Reaching an Inner Peace

I am relaxed. I am calm. I no longer feel my feet because they are tucked under my legs and a tingly sensation has since replaced them. Then, a bell rings. We are coming out of the meditation. We are coming out of the meditation. We are-I am out of the meditation. I sneak a look around and people are still quiet, eyes are closed, feet are folded, and I feel like a fraud. I'm not a Buddhist, and it seems to be plastered everywhere. I'm still wearing my ring, and this afternoon, I had a chicken steak sandwich.

Right now, being Buddhist seemed hard, but when I first started, I was surprised to find how easy I thought it was going to be. The basic rules of Buddhism were simple: I couldn't wear jewelry, which didn't seem so bad, and I couldn't eat meat. I hated steak, despised ham, and couldn't tell the difference between pork and chicken when disguised under the gravy at TDR. I also had to refrain from self-indulgence. This meant staying in on the weekends, not going to parties or clubs and not shopping or spending money on unnecessary things. I figured that I could do this though. It was only two weeks. "Just don't get sucked in," my dad warned in an email. "Those fad religions are just a ploy." However, that's what I wanted. I wanted to get sucked in and I wanted to experience something different for myself. I wanted to see faith in a different light.