A WALRUSIAN MEDITATION

Adopt the lotus position. Close your eyes. Visualize yourself unencumbered by clothing, walking alone in the vast, nearly featureless expanse of the Arctic. You’ve never been in a colder environment, but inside you feel warm.

You know what awaits you.

And then you see it: a fat, long-tusked walrus, dominating its floe like a god. Maybe it is a god. A part of you wants to bow, but you brace yourself, approach it on unsteady legs, greet it and thank it for revealing itself to you.

The walrus studies you for a moment before reaching out and touching you with a flipper. That touch rewires your brain, your very being. Skin thickens, hardens and turns brown. Legs fuse together; hands and feet become flippers; teeth become tusks.

The walrus smiles at what you’ve become; you had no idea walruses could smile. That smile proves contagious. Flooded with newfound wisdom, you thank it for bestowing this blessing upon you. You promise never to be human again.

Now, open your eyes, grunt and flop away…