
I realized, though, that people pay big money for this. Women's retreats and silent yoga spa mud retreats and meditation classes. I'm just paying the surgeon and the anesthesiologist instead of the Zen Master. And while I feel a little cynical about the whole experience, the neuroses has calmed a bit, and contentment has set in. I have to be selective about what I choose to write on the 'Doodle, and I don't get to talk to my dogs about whatever, and I have a mandated inner monologue (whereas before it was pretty much all outer monologue). So, as the new beau put it, "it'll change your brain chemistry and stuff." Let's hope it's for the better.
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