Hayashi

Daydreaming and seeing in illusion has always been my reality. I’m an easy target for conspiracy theories and unconventional wisdom. So naturally, in college I took a course on “Spirituality and Empowerment”. I wasn’t a stranger to meditation and certainly not the cartoon labyrinth of my own mind. All of my adventures inward had been psychedelic catapults or solo attempts at reaching enlightenment, I can only compare to an insect trying to build Apollo. Professor Hayashi was the teacher I’d been searching for. On Tuesdays and Thursdays about 20 college students would show up to the 23rd floor of some building on Michigan Ave at 10 AM. Most of us stoned and too many wired on prescription speed. We’d do a short meditation and spend the rest of class talking on spiritual theory and different approaches laid by various ancient masters. I ate up every second of it, but even the cynical kids who didn’t want to appear too eager, started chiming in. Attendance wasn’t strictly enforced, but everyone kept showing up. I recall early in the semester lying on the floor as Professor Hayashi led us through a meditation. I felt ignited with the present moment as I flooded my body with breath until my peer parallel began snoring, ripping me back to reality. The downside of 10AM for college students. In an effort to become more present individuals, Professor Hayashi had us keep journals entries of conscious moments. By week 4, he could no longer grade them on the content because we all got in the habit of well exceeding the word count. As someone who was already sold before I entered the door, it was exciting to watch those initially apprehensive become more vulnerable in the process. Deeper in the semester we set out for our most ambitious meditation yet, we would meet some sort of “spirit guide” if I recall the proper term. Instead of sitting close to each-other, we all took our own space and began the journey. I went into the meditation with no skepticism and when the time was appropriate I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned around I found myself in the photography dark room of my old High School. The man there was an idol of mine whom I’d never met before his passing. We sat there and talked for a while and now, I do genuinely believe it was his spirit I communicated with. When we returned to the moment and shifted our awareness back to the room there was a tranquility. Upon opening my eyes I struggled at first to understand if what I had experienced was actual. Across from me was the girl most cynical at the start, crying in amazement. The rest of the hour we spent with the lights low sharing our experience. Students talked with grandparents, friends who’d passed on, and even younger versions of themselves. When I shared my story not one person snickered or made me to feel it was “fake”. We progressed to a point further than just classmates. When I would see my peers of Hayashi around Chicago, we would greet each other like old friends, a connection I failed to reach in my “Accounting & Accountability” class. We would share what we experienced since our last meet and what we could do better the coming week. I laughed more in that room than any classroom before. I wondered if Professor Hayashi’s other students had fallen in this well or if we were some isolated incident of cinematic camaraderie. A few weeks after the spirit guide meditation Professor Hayashi cancelled class, and then another week, and then an e-mail. Professor Steve would be taking over the course starting the following Tuesday. Steve was an incredible teacher and a great man, but knowing Professor Hayashi was ill and wouldn’t return was a blow we couldn’t come back from. Some stopped coming to class and when they did Steve taught about the theory behind spirituality instead of the experience. When the semester ended none of us stayed in touch but I think about them and Professor Hayashi all time. He was just a professor, so I suppose we didn’t deserve any sort of follow up on his health, but I wish we’d gotten one. I was never going to be hard to teach and am no partiuclar story of interest. It’s the cynics that were able to put down their walls and share in a strange fantastic journey that prove to me what happened was real and impactful. A half-baked “easy-a” choice undoubtedly changed lives forever. Professor Hayashi’s influence beyond the 23rd floor will forever be immeasurable.