Today’s Writing Challenge is: Who’s the most interesting person (or people) you’ve met this year? Turn this into a character study.

As we sit in our tranquil circle, Luis–the meditation leader of our Buddhist sangha (group)–asks us to introduce ourselves (first names only). He only does this when there are new people who have joined the meditation group for the evening. This evening there are two new people. I know the other eleven very well.

Luis suggests with the mere nod of his head that the person to his left starts. Since I’m sitting closer to his right, I’ll be one of the last names announced to the group.

One of the new people is Paul. The other is Lorna.

Immediately, my mind starts shouting: “What? Another Lorna in such a small group? How is this possible? I’m the only Lorna in this group! Heck, I’m the only Lorna in this rinky dink town!”

I stare at her until I realize it’s time for me to say my name. Almost apologetically, I say, “Lorna.”

Luis chimes in, “Yes, the other Lorna.” General chuckling ensues.

Again, my mind was furious and I possibly cursed. I know it said, “The other Lorna? Wait a minute, Buster! I’ve been coming to this sangha for five years. She shows up once and all of a sudden I’m the ‘other Lorna?’ What’s up with that?” Clearly, five years of Buddhist meditation is not enough for a calm and equanimous mind.

My entire half-hour of silent meditation was occupied by Lorna–not me, but her. Well, both.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

Meditation begins.

She looks older than me, but I look pretty young for my age. She probably doesn’t take very good care of herself. Clearly, she’s fatter than I am and covers it up with baggy clothing. Cheap trick, Enemy Lorna. I used to do it, too, before I started eating healthy.

Breathe. In. Out. In.

She’s blonde, but I definitely saw dark roots. Tsk. Tsk. Intruder Lorna. Who are you trying to impress? I’m a natural blonde. I impress people without peroxide or trying.

Breathe. Out.

Her nose is abnormally long and straight. It looks like it was meant to be on the face of some Roman male statue or something. Very unattractive. My nose is big, I’ll admit it, but it fits my face. Plus I have all this naturally blonde hair and big blue eyes to draw the eyes away from my nose. She’s got nothing but those baggy clothes and dark roots.

Breathe. In.

She’s sitting on a chair, the meditation sissy! I’m doing it right, using a zafu, on the floor. What a rookie. I never used a chair. She probably has bad knees or sciatica. If she dropped a few pounds, she probably would feel better. I don’t know of a single case of bad knees that was cured by baggy clothes.

Breathe. Out.

I hate her. She doesn’t even look like a “Lorna,” which would be a woman who looks exactly like me.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

Meditation is over.

She’s still here. Shizzle. Maybe I should meditate on why I hate a woman I don’t even know because of her name.

Gosh darn it. Buddhism is hard.