My first meditation was a hectic one. When I first meditated, it was out of pain. I was going through a very tough time mentally and emotionally. I dealt with a very close loss. The people around me refused to truly understand where I was coming from. I didn’t enjoy things anymore. My favorite food became disgusting. I stopped seeing interest in interesting things. I literally felt as if I no longer wanted any part of life anymore. The day I finally partook in meditation, it just so happened to be the last day I wanted to be here. On a morning walk, I was greeted by a monk who could see the pain in my face. There’s a Buddhist temple not too far from where I reside and the monks would take walks all over the neighborhood so it wasn’t surprising to see him, even as early as it was that day considering that it was about a quarter to 7 in the morning. He took me to his temple and into a room where they all meditated. The only person that spoke was the abbott of the temple. He explained meditation and that I was in search of something only I knew. He asked me to meditate. I asked him “how would I know if I did it right”. He answered “when you cry”. I meditated for hours. To be honest, I was confused. I didn't know exactly what the end result was supposed to be. Was I suppose to see anything special? Was I suppose to hear a voice? Do I communicate if I do hear a voice? What did the abbott mean by “until you cry”? Are we all supposed to cry after each and every meditation? I had so many questions. I asked so many questions that I ran out of questions to ask. I had more questions after talking to the abbott than before meeting him. At that time, what else did I have to lose? I tried everything else.