I drove into the valley for my meditation session. I am trying to catch up with my American history as I listen to the brutality and trickery of the soldiers on the Native American in the audiobook, Bury My Heart and Wounded Knee, by Dee Brown.

During the drive I am trying to memorize the names of the Native Americans as I am reminded of the soldiers names that we have branded into our minds as heroes. As the story goes on my rage is palpable as I am gripping the steering wheel until my forearms ache. I park the car and go into the session taking a moment to write down the name I mustn’t forget, …., ….. I enter the room and do the customary 5-minute mediation before we speak.

I try my hardest to focus on my breathing as the images of slaughtered Native Americans’ litter my brain. I tried to let the images and thoughts pass like bubbles bursting as they hid the ground.

My teacher states that after much thought, he believe we should work on forgiveness. I literally burst out laughing. By the way, I am challenging myself to do the entire mediation in Spanish, as it is my native language. I figured there was something symbolic and powerful about working in Spanish as it kept me more vulnerable and less articulate. I do not have the same finesse with words in Spanish as I do in English.

After the laughter subsided I told him how enraged I had become on my drive over as my need for education myself was clearly obliterating my emotions. I felt hatred.

He smiled and said we can work toward intersecting wisdom with compassion and this would allow me to hear the stories of the Native Americans and other stories of suffering without being hurt by the process. “It was about being present,” he said.

I immediately realized that I had signed up and volunteered for the suffering as I turned on the audiobook and kept it on. I did respond to my body’s queue that I should probably turn it off.

This whole mediation thing has been suggested to me for over 20 years. Instead of surrender, I wanted to fight! I don’t have time to breathe, I used to say.

Within minutes of the next mediation exercise meant to meet and release the rage, tears raced down my face, I could not suck them up, dry them, they just kept coming.

What the hell is happening?