“Viral” by Emily Mitchell – a book review by Michelle Welch

Once in a while I discover things reminiscent of Buddhist teachings in unexpected places. Viral, a collection of short stories by Emily Mitchell, is another one of these examples. Like most short fiction in this literary style, the stories in this collection deal with the truth of the human condition, but the selection “Guided Meditation” is a particularly striking example of themes we study in the Shambhala tradition. (The following is an analysis of the story that contains excerpts and spoilers.)

“Guided Meditation” begins with a tone that mocks the modern self-help approach to meditation, and demonstrates how often the mind can run away with discursion:

“Remember: this is about finding the pose that is right for your body. As long as you are comfortable, you can even stand up if you want. At least, I suppose you could… I suppose you could stand on your head if you wanted, although why you’d do that, I’m not sure. Once, I taught a guided meditation class at a local community center and there was a man who came every week… and then when class began… [he would] flip up into a shoulder stand… Can you imagine how distracting that was for the other students? For me? …I hope that one day he’s doing a shoulder stand and his neck gets stuck so his head is permanently frozen at a 30-degree angle…”

After more of this self-conscious instruction, the narrator moves on in the guided imagery, asking the student to imagine walking down a corridor to an elevator and taking the elevator down. “The elevator should be empty. I hope, for your sake, it is.” But it’s possible that there’s someone else in the elevator, a frightening stranger who appears ugly and misshapen, disturbing and frightening.

“Don’t blame me if that is happening. I didn’t put the man into the elevator with you, you did. In fact, I told you to imagine the elevator was empty and then warned you not to get in the elevator if it was occupied. So this is not my fault… So if you can, try to visualize him disappearing…”

Returning to a now-empty elevator, the guided meditation continues down until the elevator doors open to some desired place, a forest glen or a beach or even an office building, if that’s what will make the student most happy. “Walk forward and explore this place that you have come so far to find.”

But there’s a catch. Some people, the narrator says, might not have made the strange man in the elevator disappear, and he might still be there when the elevator doors open. “You could, as you planned, run away from him,” suggests the narrator, but you might not be able to. He might run after you. This is the part of the story that most resembles my understanding of the meditation techniques we learn in Shambhala, the idea of making friends with ourselves, even the ugly parts.

“So I suggest that you don’t run away… Turn to face the weird man in the corner. Try looking at his face if you can stand it. Then try holding out your hand to him… See, he’s not so terrifying after all, just ugly and a little sad. But even though he’s not the companion you might aspire to have, he’s the one you created for yourself, so don’t let go of his hand. Keep leading him forward. Now you are not alone anymore. Now you have a friend. Now you can go out and look around together.”

It’s a touching example of what literature can do, and it resonates deeply with some areas of our practice.