I adore the practice of Transcendental Meditation (™). Since the three-day introductory seminar at the end of January, I have practiced TM twice a day, for twenty-minutes a pop, as called for. Sometimes I’ve done it a third, a fourth time. At its best, it centers me, makes my mind clearer and more resilient. At its worst, it relaxes me, draining some of the anxieties I feel.

            That being said, I still haven’t seen God. I’m not sure that I’ve ever entered that content-free zone, that primordial unified field of pure consciousness. But I’d like to.

            The second time I tried TM, during my training sessions, I ran into two nodes of humor that caused me to smile; I had to suppress the impulse to laugh. I wasn’t sure what the joke was, but there was something funny that had breathed down my neck. Then, during those same twenty minutes, I ran into a knot of pure sadness, and I was unable to evade it: tears came and I actually began to sob. I had to cover my hot, anguished eyes.

            Nothing comparable has happened since, though I’ve only been at it for nearly three months.

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            I do get a kick on the literature on the subject, put out by the David Lynch Foundation. It’s so relentlessly upbeat. TM, we’re told, is the key to world peace.

            The Foundation has many a folk testifying to the wonders of TM. David Lynch himself, Jerry Seinfeld, Hugh Jackman, a few business CEOs mentioned in Bob Roth’s book, “Strength in Stillness”: all high achievement, go-getting luminous individuals to begin with. In the advertising side of TM, it reminds me of those television ads for beauty products th

            I suppose all endeavors have vested interests in polishing and maintaining the brio and validity of their brands. Religions do it. Philosophical movements do it, such as the adherents of Ayn Rand and her Objectivism. Tom Waits put a lot of energy into maintaining an outsider-on-the-inside rebel/poet. We all love something and want everyone else to love it too.

            And of course the beauty industry is constantly touting its brand. Do you want smoother, rosier skin, bright sexy eyes, luscious thick glowing hair, sparkling white and straight teeth? Why of course you do. And who do they use to hawk their products? Young, beautify models who you just know have no need on earth to look like they look. Young models who look beautiful and alluring even with messy hair, dilapidated clothes, insolent facial expressions. Beauty is as beauty does. And the obvious message is, use our products and you can look like this, have this lifestyle, and be beautiful.

            It doesn’t matter that the ruse is threadbare. We fall for it every time. And of course, there’s just enough truth in the message for us, who want to be beautiful too, to take the bait, hook line and sinker.

            Bob Roth writes that what TM promises is not something you will not get. It will come, whether you try for it or not.

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            I don’t mean to be disparaging. Every brand invariably has valid claims to make. I suppose there are qualifications to everything.

            I can only go by my personal experience.

            I do my meditations, which are supposed to energize you, take away stress and center you by helping you delve into the vast ocean of a primal consciousness that predates thought and meaning. Do I get there? I’m not sure.

            The practice relaxes me, but I’m not entirely sure where it is it takes me to. Sometimes instead of getting energized, I get sleepy, and end up having to take a nap. Which, in the scheme of things, works out fine for me.

            The videos and literature, and my personal instructor during the TM beginner’s training session, stress that this form of Automatic Self-Transcending practice works like this:

            Imagine that consciousness is like the ocean. Focused-Attention meditation requires a hyper-vigilance, trying to stop and master the waves on the surface. It is a lot of work. Open Monitoring meditation does ask you to master those chaotic waves, but to watch them, observe them, and try to see them for what they are. Still, you are invited to see them, dispassionately yes, without judgment.

            In Automatic Self-Transcending meditation, which is TM, you’re drawn by inertia to where the big fish of pre-thought consciousness swim, and you get to swim with them.

Transcendental Meditation is a tool. It is a materialist philosophy in that it entails a physical way, a method – meditative exercises involving inner sound – to achieve a state of pure consciousness.

            My infatuation with things David Lynch inspired me to try TM.

            But here’s the breaking news: David Lynch was David Lynch before Transcendental Meditation.

            TM is like that drug in the Bradley Cooper movie, “Limitless.” The drug, Cooper is told, can make your brain more effective. That, in turn, can make you “smarter.”

            “It helps if you’re already smart,” says Bradley’s drug dealing ex-brother-in-law.  Meaning that if you don’t have the training, the inclination or the contextual wherewithal, a more effective brain still won’t turn you into a gifted filmmaker, visual artist, poet or writer. It might make you into a more empathetic sheep herder, or neighbor, or librarian, or auto mechanic, etc. etc. It can also allow you to tap into unforeseen or unsuspected talents. But it won’t give you talents that you do not have.

            And you’ll still need to put in those 10,000 hours.

            I wonder. If at base you’re a Hannibal Lector or a Darth Vader, then will your command of the Dark Side may become prodigious. What would TM do for Donald Trump? (Well, that was a bad example, wasn’t it? He could never sit long enough to do TM.)

            I could be wrong, but I suspect TM will not on its own bring world peace about.

            I have no doubt —would in fact welcome it — that someone better versed in TM would set me straight on my crooked thinking.

            Until then, I’ll keep on meditating twice a day. It makes me feel good. It makes me happy. It does me no harm, as far as I can tell. My son tells me that it often makes me an easier person to take.

            And who knows. I might just break through to that pool of consciousness and into the realms of the unified field.

            That would be très boo coo cool.