The Last Laugh

by Arjuna Ardagh

  “You have to focus. You have to focus. Stand up.”

  I did. “Joey, that really hurt.”

  “We can call this off right now,” said Joey. “You can beat it out of here this afternoon. But if you’re serious, you need to go all the way.”

  “I’ll go on,” I said, my arm throbbing. It would be severely bruised.

  “You can’t think,” he said, cutting his words crisp and short. “You can’t think. There’s no room here for thought. You must focus. You must focus so clearly on this moment that nothing else exists. If you let yourself follow thought for even a second, the ball could be in your face.”

  My body convulsed. I felt sick and shocked and very cold.

  “Focus,” he said. “Focus so that the past and future die. Focus so that only this moment remains.”

  He placed the bat back in my hands. He walked away. My body was gripped with fear and excitement. I didn’t know which was which. Then, somehow, the magic began. Ball after ball: whiz, the crack of bat meeting a hard ball. With every ball, I relaxed even more. I was pure thrill. Something, not me, would hit the ball. My chest was on fire. I was laughing, yelling sounds that echoed off the walls of the valley. I felt huge, filled with light, bursting. Finally, it stopped. He walked over, untied the bandanna and looked into my eyes.

  “This is pure response,” said Joey, “with no thought. This is how you will learn to live your life. No past, no future, no understanding. Action without thought. Learn to act before you think.”

  I grinned at him. “Thank God it’s over,” I said. “I was afraid I would be killed.”

  “It’s not over,” he said, “and you may be killed. That was just rehearsal.”

  He led me to the rock jutting out over the sheer drop of the cliff. I wanted to protest, but I knew it was no good. He stood me there, my back to the drop, my feet inches from the edge. It was either my life on the line or the bus home. He tied the bandanna over my eyes and walked back several paces. I tested the rock with my foot. It was not dry. I could easily slip, lose my balance, and fall. I remembered there were a few trees growing out of the steep drop. Would they catch me? I was blindfolded. Even if I missed with my swing, the ball would go sailing past my head into the valley, thousands of feet below. If I lost focus, as I had before, if the ball hit me, it would almost surely send me over the edge.

  “Focus,” I heard him say crisply. “Focus. It’s no longer a game, Matt. Now it’s your life. Take your time. You know the knack now. Find the current; find the place which knows what to do. Breathe deeply.”

  I breathed through the knot in my solar plexus. I breathed through my thoughts. Time stopped.

  Then it happened.

  The ball whistled, the response came, the crack, all in the same moment.

  I don’t know what to call it. Laughter, orgasm, joy, knowing the pure and original face of God? It’s virtually impossible to describe that moment. I could try, but it would miss the essence of the thing. I knew. I absolutely knew that life was happening totally independently of my efforts and decisions and thoughts.

  That was the last ball. He picked it up and removed the blindfold. He looked into my eyes and we embraced. He knew that I knew. We said nothing.

  We walked back down the dirt path and then the dirt road, virtually in silence. Now and then Joey would stop to point out a bird or a tree. My whole body had changed. It was light, strong, determined. It moved from the belly on its own. I was not moving it; it knew. It was not responding to the environment around it; it was absolutely a part of its environment, moved by its environment. It had returned to something more natural than I knew anything about.

  Back to the house. Katie had made soup and bread. I said nothing; there was nothing to be said. I tasted the food, felt the people, felt my own body. Every movement was like the hands holding the bat without seeing the ball. Everything was moved and guided by a force which knew, unquestioningly, the next move.

  CHAPTER 20

  HOW ABOUT NOW

  I went outside after lunch and stacked wood. I gave myself to pure action, this human body a simple animal, engaged in simple tasks.

  “Ready?” Joey asked quietly. I looked up. He must have come from around the corner of the shed and been standing there watching me.

  “What now?” I asked. I was ready for anything.

  “Let’s head on back to the city.”

  There was a great to-do of good-byes on the front porch. Katie and Joey embraced again like newlyweds. Sam and Cheryl and Tim and all the others came one by one to send us off. Finally, we were back in Paul’s Honda, plentifully equipped with cake wrapped in tin foil and other little snacks. Joey got started on them before we were even out of the driveway.

  He said nothing for a while. I was driving the car just as I had held the bat, with a precision that left no room for thought.

  “It’s not over yet,” he said finally.

  I took a breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Keep digging for what is between you and perfection.” He went back to his bag of nuts, seemingly uninterested in whether I accepted his challenge or not.

  “Money,” I began. “Money. It’s all very well teaching me to hit a baseball with my eyes closed … ”

  “ … while perched over a fourteen-hundred and eighty-three foot sheer drop,” Joey added with relish.

  “And it’s great that you have somehow persuaded my wife that I am worthy of reconsideration, but I still have no money. And no prospect of any. That is my real problem, more than learning blind man’s baseball. Until I can reenter the job stream, none of this really helps me too much. I’ve lost my house. I’ve lost my job. Unless I find a way to turn that around, in my books I have a problem.”

  “How about now?” asked Joey.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This moment, how is this moment?”

  “This moment is fine. I’m driving home. In my friend’s car. With a chocolate addict. But what about tomorrow, what about my family cooped up in Chicago? I’m really no closer to solving any of that.”

  “Now,” said Joey, putting aside his food and straightening his spine. “Tell me about now,” he said with military precision.

  “Okay. We are driving the car.”

  “We?”

  “Okay, I’m driving the car. You’re holding a bag of nuts.”

  “And fruit,” added Joey. “And Katie’s chocolate cake. Want some?”

  “No.”

  “Not hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Thirsty?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “What else? Tell me about your body.”

  I radioed in to the poor creature. It had been pushed out of the scene for a while. “I can feel my belly. I can feel my breath.”

  “Got any life-threatening diseases?” Joey asked, chewing something.

  “No, I feel good.”

  “Is there gas in the car?” To my surprise there was. The gauge was full. Must have been Katie.

  “Are you too hot?” He looked at me with concern, reaching for the heater controls.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Too cold?”

  “No. I said I’m fine.” I was getting irritated.

  “Do you need to stop to pee?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you, I’m fine.”

  “What about number two?” He grinned like a five-year-old.

  “I told you I’m fine. If I need something I’ll tell you. I’m fine. Fine. Great.”

  “Good,” he said. He went back to chocolate-covered raisins for a minute or so.

  “Are you tired? Do you need to rest?”

  “No, I’m cool.”

  “We’re in no hurry; you can have a nap if you need to.”

  “Listen, Joey, no nap, no food or drink or heat or cold or pee or … ,” I paused, “number two needed. I am fine like this. Don’t need anything. Okay?”

  Joey went quiet. Looked hurt, reprimanded.

  “Do you
need some money?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

  “No, Joey, we have gas and you have food and I’m not hungry, I don’t need any money.”

  “You sure?” he pressed, leaning toward me, offering a bunch of bills.

  “Look,” I was almost shouting. “What am I going to do with money in the middle of nowhere? There are no shops. And if there were, I don’t need anything. What’s gotten into you? I don’t need anything.”

  Joey shrugged and put away his wallet. “I thought you said you had a problem with money,” he mumbled.

  “Yes, I do, but not now.”

  “Ah,” said Joey, sounding confused. “When?”

  “Well, later. Before. Generally. But not this moment. I don’t need money right now.”

  He scrutinized my face, bewildered.

  “So why were you thinking about it?”

  “Well, it is something I have to take care of. It’s a problem in my life.”

  “Hmm.” He considered. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I need a job.”

  “How do you know?”

  I was ready to hit him. This was idiotic. “I have a family. I have responsibilities. Of course I need to work. I need to get a job. Soon. Tomorrow.”

  “What’s the evidence?”

  “Joey, do you think I don’t need to work? Are you suggesting I just drift along like this forever?”

  “I suggest you be where you are. Here. Where you have told me with great conviction that you do not need anything. You’ve told me that a bunch of times. What happens to this drive, to being in the car, to this not needing anything, when you start thinking about money? Do you enjoy the ride more by bringing in your money story?”

  I hesitated. Was this another trap? “No … ” I said slowly, tentatively.

  “Do you have more money by thinking these thoughts?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What happens to you here when you think about all this? What happens to your body, to your being with me?”

  “I guess I feel tense when I think about money. Everybody does.”

  “Everybody?”

  “Most people.”

  “What most people do has never seemed to me a very good guide for how to live one’s life,” he mused. “Just look at how half of them just voted.”

  “Almost half. Bush did not get the popular vote. He stole the election.”

  “Try to just be here for a few minutes. Breathe. Feel your body; feel me with you. Crack the window a little and breathe the air.” I did as he suggested. “And think about … ” He hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Sam.”

  And so we drove together in silence. I went back over Sam’s confession of her life story to me the first day at the farm. I lingered on our embrace near the cabbage patch.

  “How does that feel now?” He interrupted my reverie.

  I took a breath. I felt alive, rested. The air in my nose and lungs felt refreshing.

  “So what makes for a brighter day? Thinking about money, about a lack of something, or thinking about a beautiful woman? Or … ,” he added as an afterthought, “just breathing and feeling this fine December day?”

  I looked at him and did not need to answer. I conceded the round to him. Again. My breath was getting deeper and fuller, as though it were pushing out not only against the walls of the lungs, but the walls of the car, too. It pushed out into the ferns and trees beside the road.

  “Feel all this. Feel your full belly. Feel your healthy body. Feel me here with you. Feel the full gas tank. Feel the power of the car, lunging forward as you touch the gas pedal. Feel this, this is life. Your wife and children are safe. They love you. Feel it.” There was a pause. “Now tell me about this moment.”

  “My body feels good. I feel alive. I can feel you.” In the saying of it, which was something of an experiment, I found that it was actually true.

  “Good,” he said. “Tell me about the texture of this moment. What do you bring to meet this?”

  “I feel alive.” I waited for more words to come. “I feel hungry and horny and ready to sing, all at the same time but with no desire for anything. Gratitude, I feel grateful.”

  “Yes,” he said. “And in this is there any lack of money?”

  A small, green, furry demon wanted to argue. But I was getting to know him by now. There was no way to win. Joey had reality on his side, and all my demon could bring to the contest were thoughts of past and future. It was a losing battle; my demon went back to sleep.

  “Desire creates lack. Simple. The more you desire anything, money, love, security, anything, you manufacture a universe in that moment where it is missing. Without that thought you are already full, whole. Desire is a disease. The antidote is the conscious practice of gratitude. Gratitude flips you into now. Into a now that is already full, and lays the foundation for greater and greater fullness. To be free you must learn to recognize the monkey mind. It is always jumping ahead and wanting something more. It skips over this, and so creates a precedent for a life of not enough. Dissolve desire through the practice of gratitude. Start now, and continue till you notice that your heart has stopped beating and your life is over.

  “I’ve made money and given it all away more times than I can remember in my life. Money does not come to you from desire. Or if it does, it’s like a whore, all show and no real satisfaction. Learn to sing ‘Hallelujah’ for what is here before your nose. I swear you will be given more than your desire could ever imagine.”

  We drove in silence, he nibbling, me feeling. The eternal battle between this, which is real, and the world of thought. A soft decision relaxed, in a moment out of time. What he was pointing me toward was not a hobby or a quick fix technique to accommodate my schemes for success. It was a death of how I had always lived. After some time he spoke again.

  “You are doing well. Your training is almost done.”

  “How much more is there?” I asked.

  “You need to finish all the lessons. The hardest are the last.”

  “How many have we done?”

  He was silent. He looked out of the window. “Seven,” he said finally. I tried to remember.

  “Feel what you most resist, that was number one,” he said. “Become the other, number two. Just like me, three. The real teacher, four.”

  “What about the first night I met you?” I interjected.

  “That doesn’t count. The remembering is grace. Not to forget takes practice.” He paused, and nibbled on something. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, Drop the past, five. Act without thought, six.

  “Blind man’s baseball?”

  “Yep. And practice gratitude, that’s seven.”

  “How many are there altogether?”

  He paused for a good time while nibbling on nuts. Like he couldn’t remember. When he did answer, it sounded random, like he was picking a number out of the air to satisfy me.

  “Ten.”

  CHAPTER 21

  CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE-CHIP CHEESECAKE

  “Pull over here,” said Joey. I was surprised at his choice. The Terrace is a fashionable up-market restaurant, about 40 minutes out of town, just off the road. It has magnificent views of the surrounding canyon, thickly covered with trees. The walls on all sides are glass, floor to ceiling, with no interior walls, so wherever you sit you feel you are flying over a forest.

  Joey strode into the restaurant, straight past the sign requesting guests to wait to be seated, with the air of a man who has just bought the whole place. He stopped at a table where a couple in their 50s were dining with a young man and woman. The young man looked impatient, brewing a fight for later. Had to be their son, the resemblance was striking. The older woman was obviously disapproving of everything. The young woman looked nervous, fiddling with a diamond ring, ready to do handstands at the drop of a hat, if that would help her chances of being accepted. Must be the prospective daughter-in-law.

  “Are you enjoying your lunch?” Joey asked the elder lady.
She assented dismissively, but that did not dissuade Joey. “How are the fries?” he went on.

  “They’re just fine, thank you,” the woman replied curtly.

  “Yep,” said Joey. “I like ’em crispy. Now you look like the kind of woman who’s never going to be happy in a restaurant.” Everyone at the table tightened. “Because I bet you know you could always do better at home.”

  The woman’s manner changed completely. She looked up into Joey’s eyes, as though he were announcing himself as her long-lost brother. On he went. “I can tell a good cook a mile away, because all the men in her life look well fed and well loved. You could put these fries to shame any day of the week, couldn’t you?”

  She flushed. Joey bent down and took a couple of fries from her plate and put them in his mouth. She looked up at him in wonder, and pushed the plate toward him in case he wanted more.

  “She’s got a world of good things to teach you, my dear,” he said to the younger woman. “She knows the secret to making a man happy.” He did that funny thing with his eyebrow. The younger woman leapt into an animated monologue, as though she had been waiting for her cue at a school play. “Oh yes, Maude is a wonderful cook.” She flashed a nervous smile at Maude, and giggled. “Dan loves his mother so much, and I feel so lucky to be joining this family. She’s also a really wonderful seamstr—”

  Joey moved on, leaving the table in electrified confusion. His next stop was a table where an overweight couple was sitting with their five overweight children, all fighting indiscriminately among themselves. Both parents looked exhausted—with each other, with the whole chaos they had landed for themselves. The man was wearing a very loud sweatshirt, Christmas greetings blazing from it in neon letters, in every language known to man.

  “Now that, sir, is a magnificent garment,” said Joey. The wife beamed, as if to say, “See, I knew it was a good choice.” The kids stopped and stared up at Joey in fascination.