It's Like This

It’s Like This

- Kelly Corrigan

“IT’S LIKE THIS.”

That’s what Will liked to say. Will, the meditation guy from my husband Edward’s office. Will, who had interesting answers to hard questions and didn’t wear shoes. I met Will when I used to write in a sunny corner of Edward’s office—a wonderland of adjustable desks, nap pods, and unlimited kombucha. When Edward’s boss offered me an empty desk and welcomed me to partake in all the employee benefits, including mindfulness sessions with Will, I said, “Amen, brother.”

Most of the time, I slipped into Will’s class, lowered myself onto a gray foam brick, and did a crappy version of whatever he told us to do (breathe, notice, release). Sometimes I’d linger and we’d talk. 

One morning, after Will had led us through a meditation about relationships and conflict, I said to him, “When the shit hits the fan, even in situations where I should have been able to see trouble coming, I get crazy—like furious-crazy.” He nodded: “It’s a very cool feature of the human mind that we keep hoping our interactions are going to be different.”