After a stressful day at the Wiggly, your spine crumpled, your neck compressed like a shut accordion, you press play on your phone, close your eyes, and sit.  

“Meditation is not something to be worn as a badge of honor and pride,” says a soft, enthusiastic voice. The voice belongs to Eve, your second-favorite Headspace meditation guide behind Andy.

“It’s better if we go about it quietly,” she says. “Our practice rooted in humility with the intention to benefit all.”

You take a deep breath and try to focus. But your mind wanders back to a message you sent on Slack today. It was too agressive. Your punctuation lacked character. It failed to communicate your zeal and overall goodness. It lacked an exclamation point.

“So if we are practicing meditation and experiencing lots of benefit from it, then it’s natural to feel not only excited and happy about that, but also to want to share that with our family, our friends, and the community around us. That’s a really positive thing.”

“See, pendejo!” says Duo the owl, roosting in the eaves of your mind. “You should look out for your community. You should help me out with some translations. You don’t want to see your pretty little 232 day streak get killed, do you?”

You clench your eye muscles and drive Duo away.

“But what we want to avoid is creating a new identity around this idea of being a meditator. Meditation is about letting go of identity, letting go of the labels that we wear, the labels of the things that we think we might be as a person, and instead living with a greater sense of freedom and ease, more aware of how things are changing in our own mind and in our own life. So as much as possible, not getting fixed to the idea of meditation, and instead just quietly, confidently, making it a part of your life.”

The voice goes mute. You open your eyes and check your phone.

+15 Humility Points!

Run Streak: 40 days

Mindful Minutes: 1018 —> 1023

New Rank Unlocked! Journeyman —> Psychonaut.

Nice.

You’re pleased by how well this is going. You were wary about Headspace at first—it seemed like capitalism and wellness might be oil and water—but you gave it a try because Reddit said it would help with your anxiety. And, as oxymoronic as gamified meditation may seem, you can’t argue with the results. Since you started, your happiness is up 22% and your anxiety is charting a head-and-shoulders pattern that bodes very well for your future equanimity.

“Just add mindfulness!” says a bubble on screen. “Get the occasional tip for meditating and living mindfully by turning on Notifications.”

You touch the X above the bubble. No notifications. That’s where you draw the line. Mindfulness, for you (and you realize you’re no expert—you have more Humility Points than expertise) is a chain of moments in which you succeed at being present. Notifications break that chain, even the ones telling you to be mindful. Of course, if, incidentally, momentarily, you wander down a 90-minute Tik Tok rabbit hole and the chain happens to break, it’s no good to self-judge. As Andy always says, just start again.

Which reminds you, you’re spacing again… Staring at a white play button on a deep-purple background. You press it.

A different voice, a man’s. Andy’s. Andy is a Buddhist-monk-turned-marketing-director with a voice so level and serene you wonder if he really has a body. Even if he doesn’t, you love him.

“Congratulations, Psychonaut,” Andy says. “A 40 day Run Streak is an accomplishment. On this journey, you have found humility, freedom, and ease. But now that you have them, it’s time to let them go. Letting go of meditation’s initial aims is the only way to keep ascending. Higher forms of consciousness require higher forms of discipline. Simply showing up is no longer enough. From now on, you will meditate with a singular purpose in mind: opening the Gateless Gate.

“By choosing to meditate twice in the same day after achieving a Run Streak of 40 days,” Andy says. “You have shown yourself worthy. That is why you unlocked this Bonus Meditation… Now, please listen carefully.

“Only by passing through the Gateless Gate may you ascend to the rank of Guru and obtain the fabled 1000% Happiness Boost lasting ♾ seconds, also known as Enlightenment.

“If you want this, nod your head.”

Of course you want this, who doesn’t want a 1000% Happiness Boost for ♾ seconds? Besides, by now you’re accustomed to doing whatever the voice—Andy’s voice—suggests. You nod.

“Good. Now step up to the Gate.”

Your only reference point for divine gates is the Christian one, so you envision yourself walking on a cloud toward a great white gate with little wrought-iron—

“Just kidding,” Andy says. “The Gateless Gate isn’t really a gate. And yet it is. A gate inside your mind. But you don’t step up to a gate like that. No, you approach it with ideas. Yet ideas can only get you to the Gate, they can’t take you through it. For that you’ll need to let go of ideas altogether, including of course the idea of letting go of ideas. I’m sorry if this is confusing, but I’m afraid there’s no other way. Why don’t you, uh, take a break and we’ll give the Gate a try next lesson?

“So, yeah, that’s it for today’s meditation,” Andy says. “Thanks for taking the time out of your day to prioritize your inner self. And remember, focus on letting go of letting go. You have a purpose now. See you next time!”

+10 Awareness Points!

Run Streak: 40 Days

Mindful Minutes: 1023 —> 1025

You open your eyes and the world blinks into focus. It is as it always is: plain, uninspired, short on story. You start the next meditation.

“Now,” Andy says. “To pass through The Gateless Gate, you must answer three koans.”

Koans? You fight the urge to stand up and google.

“Here is the first,” Andy says. Then, like a sheet of paper falling in the wind, he drops into this story.

THE FIRST KOAN

A businessman who has had great financial success grows dissatisfied with his life. He comes to desire the one form of wealth that money cannot give him: spiritual wealth. At first, he only wants it because he cannot buy it. But after researching the subject at length, he concludes that spiritual training, specifically training in Zen Buddhism, would make him stronger, smarter, happier, and more humble.

The businessman flies from the United States to Japan and offers the Zen master Togo a large sum of money to teach him Zen. Togo laughs and hits him on the head with a stick.

“There’s your first lesson,” says Togo. “No charge. Come back tomorrow and I’ll give you another.”

The following day the businessman returns in a plain robe like the ones the rest of the monks wear. As soon as he arrives, Togo hits him on the head with his stick.

The businessman accepts the blow and says, “I’ve come to study Zen with you. And I will pay you nothing.”

“If you believe you will pay nothing,” says Togo. “Then you will never save yourself.”

Still, the businessman sits down with the other monks for morning meditation. Togo hits him with the stick until he leaves.

The next day, bruised and weary, the businessman returns and bows to Master Togo, touching his forehead to the ground. Then he hands Togo a piece of paper. On it are bank statements recording the businessman’s recent transactions. That morning, he gave nearly all his millions to charity.

“Now will you teach me Zen?” he asks the master.

“‘No,” replies Togo.

“Well, that’s it for today’s meditation,” Andy says, breathing deeply. “Now tell me, why didn’t Master Togo allow the businessman to study?”

A white box appears on screen.

You deliberate. Maybe the businessman should have given up all of his money, instead of almost all of it. Or maybe he wanted to study Zen for the wrong reasons, maybe self-betterment is beside the point. Maybe in Zen, rich guys just get hit with sticks.  

For a moment, the don’t-let-Andy-down thought pops into your head, but then you remember that he has no idea who you are and can’t possibly be reading these. You draw a $ in the box and press Submit.

The box turns red and Andy’s voice comes back. “Sorry,” he says. “Wrong answer. The correct answer was, ‘When a Zen master sells out, he buys himself.’ Please try harder on the next koan. Remember, never forget your purpose. Even when you forget it. See you next time!”

+0 Awareness Points

Run Streak: 40 Days

Mindful Minutes: 1025 —> 1028

You can’t help feeling like you let Andy down, even though to him you’re just some rando. The zero awareness points seem to confirm it. The stat bubble fades and something new pops up.

MINDFULNESS QUIZ!

Take a moment to check in with yourself. How do you feel right now?

A) Curious, open-minded, ready to take on new challenges

B) Apprehensive but poised to strike, like a snake sensing human footsteps

C) Perplexed, lost, wishing for more clarity about the Gate

D) Ready to give up

You feel a tinge of pity for the pathetic souls who actually choose D. You press B.

Mindful Minutes: 1028 —> 1029

Thank you for your input! Your feedback helps us make this user experience better for all beings, everywhere. How about a BONUS QUESTION?

A) Yes.

B) Not right now.

You press A.

BONUS QUESTION!

How do you feel when you see the word Sponsored?

A) Enlivened

B) Suspicious

C) Ambivalent

D) Anxious

You press B.

Thank you for your input! Your feedback helps us make this user experience better for all beings, everywhere.

That’s odd. Where are your Mindful Minutes? What kind of “bonus” is this?

You close the app and google koan.

A paradoxical anecdote or riddle, used in Zen Buddhism to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical reasoning and to provoke enlightenment.

Can these things really have right or wrong answers? And how do you try harder?

“Exactly,” says Andy. “Now you’re beginning to grasp the ungraspable Zen.”

How is Andy talking to you while the app is closed? His voice must have come from within you. And though there’s something eerie and inhuman about the quasi-robotic voice of a man you’ve never met emanating from a part of you you didn’t know existed, you like it. It feels like an important self-discovery. Growth.

“That’s because it is,” Andy says. God, you could start a cult over that voice. “I’ve been here all along, in the dark corners of your mind. You only had to quiet it to find me. Well done. Though the journey is never over. Now, let’s level up that Awareness, shall we? This next koan’s a 20-pointer…”

You reopen Headspace and press play.

“Hello, Headspace listener.” It’s a woman’s voice, Eve’s. You were hoping to hear Andy’s, but you realize this is a judgment, a big no-no for meditators, so you push your disappointment down.

“I have sad news today,” Eve says. “Andy had an accident. We hope he will recover, but he’s in rough shape. From now on, I’ll guide all the meditations. That said, before his accident Andy did record a small backlog of meditations, so you will still hear those until we have to make the switch. Be well.”

Eve’s voice fades and Andy’s picks up, tranquil as a wheat field. “Remember that when you perceive a change, it is really your mind that is changing,” he says.

What a relief to hear Andy again, though his voice sounds more lifeless than before, ghostly even, both because it’s an echo of an earlier state of affairs that no longer obtains, and because the version of him that lives inside you is more lively.

“Not the flag, not the wind, but your mind,” he says. “That is what moves.”

You picture Andy lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines. He’s covered head to toe in bandages, maybe because you have no clue what he looks like. Then you remember that this is a thought, another no-no. You push it down.

“This principle of the moving mind will help you with koans. So will the practice, which comes to us from Zen Buddhism, of letting our thoughts be. Not trying to force them out of our heads but rather, observing them from a distance until they float away.”

Ah fuck, you think. You’ve been shoving your thoughts down this whole time.

You watch that ah fuck thought float away.

“In watching our thoughts without attaching them to any ego,” Andy says. “We become aware of the koan’s answer. Now, relax onto a cushion, a chair, or a bed, lengthen your spine, and breathe in from your belly. Good. Now exhale.”

Don’t die, Andy. Don’t die, you think. But the thought won’t float away.

“Let’s pick up where we left off,” he says.

THE SECOND KOAN

The businessman returned to Togo’s monastery every day for 40 days, receiving many blows from Togo’s stick. On the 40^th day, moved by his Run Streak, Togo finally allowed the businessman to sit with the monks. He lived with them for 8 years, meditating by day and scrubbing toilets by night. At last, Togo approached him.

“It is time for you to go home,” he said. “Bearing the fruit of Zen.”

The businessman understood what his master asked of him, but he did not like it. Nevertheless, he packed his things and went home to San Francisco to plant the seed of mindfulness in the fertile, untilled soil of America. His obstacle was this: in America, the spirit is moved by business. To reach a large audience, he would have to form an impressive company. He would need to incorporate, hire employees, pitch investors. To sow the seeds of mindfulness in America, he needed Seed Funding.

No entrepreneurial task was particularly difficult for the businessman—he had done them all with ease in his youth. The challenge was that this task required something diametrically opposed to his spiritual life’s mission. For to spread mindfulness to his countrymen, he would have to turn his back on it in his own life.

The businessman wrote Master Togo asking him how to proceed. Togo replied with this koan.

Once, a monk’s arm was torn off by a wolf. The monk managed to escape with his life, and when he went back to the place of the attack, the arm was still there. He brought it home and preserved it, while doctors replaced it with a prosthetic. He learned to use the prosthetic arm, but the old arm began to haunt him. It seemed to wave at him from its glass jar beside his bed. He wanted to throw it out but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he brought it to Master Shogetsu, the head priest of the monastery in the nearby mountains. He asked Shogetsu which was the real arm, the one on his body, or the one in the jar?

The arm and its soul were separated, said Shogetsu. Which is the real soul?

In that instant, the monk was enlightened.

“Why,” asks Andy. “Did the monk attain enlightenment?”

The white box reappears and you write, Enlightenment was provoked because Shogetsu’s question demonstrated the inadequacy of logical reasoning. You press submit.

A pop-up.

That’s it for your free meditations. Subscribe here and now for more great mindful content!

A wave of disappointment tumbles over you, and this time, you don’t shove it down or watch it float away. You wade into it. It’s sad to see the world asking you for money at every turn. You know this is just a rule of the game, always somewhat lamentable, yet this time your sadness is deeper than usual, consisting in the knowledge that Andy, your hero, and in a sense, your spiritual mentor, is no exception to the rule. Sadder still is the fact that he is hurt, ill, or perhaps even dead, and the structure he built lives on, continuing to carry out its mission of separating people from their money. This, you surmise, must be the true nature of immortality. Even when the last human dies, their subscriptions to Hulu, The Times, and Headspace will keep drawing money from their bank.

But you know that for Andy, this is about more than money. It has to be. A genuine effort at provoking enlightenment, that’s what this is. One that requires financial support in order to have the thrust it needs. He could explain himself, if only given the chance.

You consider looking him up and driving out to see him, wherever he may be, like a road trip movie shot through with some antiquated brand of purpose, but the idea seems futile. What could he tell you in person that he hasn’t already recorded?

“Nothing,” he says. The voice in your head settles it. With that, you reach for Andy in the one way you know how—through the app. You pay the subscription fee and begin the journey of the Premium Meditator.

Unsurprisingly, the answer box turns red. The correct answer to the koan pops up. A severed arm and a severed soul are nothing compared to the great mountain of Kasan, which, over ten thousand millennia, split itself in two.

Please try harder.

Okay, how on Earth were you supposed to guess that? You start the next track, pleading with the universe to furnish you with Andy’s voice.

But it’s Eve’s.

“Hello, Headspace listener,” she says. “I’m afraid I have some rather grave news today. My friend and colleague Andy has passed away. Everyone at Headspace is deeply saddened by his loss, and our thoughts go out to his friends and family, as well as all the listeners that have come to appreciate him. In all of us who have had the good fortune to hear his voice, Andy lives on. In the meantime, here is the final meditation he recorded.”

THE THIRD KOAN

Friends, if you are listening to this meditation, I am dead. Harbor no resentment, death is only Nature revolving around itself. The leaves of the cherry blossom have fallen, but they are still here in the dirt.

Now that this reality has come to pass, I will confess that the businessman whose story we have been following is me, Andy. As you know, I founded my company Headspace with the aim of spreading mindfulness in the West. But I’m afraid I failed. You see, the West has a deep preoccupation with rationality. What some people call “The Enlightenment” was, in reality, a war on truly enlightened thinking, and the war has left scars too deep for me to heal. I believed that now that science has “confirmed” the effectiveness of ancient practices like meditation, the West would be ready to embrace them. I was wrong. Showing people the data and emphasizing it with technology may pique their interest, but it does not inspire the kind of commitment required on the path to true enlightenment. Data only begets more data. What is needed here is faith.

Fortunately you, dedicated listener, have faith. You have shown the very persistence this journey necessitates. For that I am, was, grateful. As a reward, I’d like to share with you this final koan. It appeared to me years ago in the a meeting with a meeting with a venture capital firm. I will admit that I have no answer for it. The koan is only a question for you to ponder as you live out your days, blown to and fro by the mind’s breezes. May it live inside you, like my voice, guiding you in imperceptible ways.

A CEO asked an investor to fund his new company. “I need $100,000 to cover the lease, $100,000 for marketing, $200,000 for staffing, $50,000 for the lawyers, $150,000 more for general operating expenses, and $80,000 for the insurance policy. I’ll cover the variable costs on my own, but that’s all I can cover, so in total I’ll need at least $680,000 from you.”

“Okay,” said the investor. “What does the company do?”

“Nothing,” said the CEO.

In that instant, the investor attained enlightenment.

“Well,” Andy says. “That’s it for today’s meditation. Thanks for the taking the time out of your day to prioritize your inner self. Goodbye! Forever.”

The track ends and you wait for an answer box to appear, but it never does. All you see is the play button, that lonely white triangle on its deep purple background. A tear lands next to it. It’s as if you’ve lost a friend.

You wonder why you did it, forty consecutive days sitting still and silent, doing nothing, gaining nothing except some useless digital points. Was it worth it? asks the relentless optimizer inside you. You watch as the question drifts off, receding ever further in your mind’s eye until at last, it disappears.

“Good,” Andy says. “Very good.”

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