There have been tomes written about meditation. Books and books, and articles and scriptures and pamphlets and, more than ever, research papers, on meditation. All declaring its healing ability, the virtues and benefits, its role in the path to self-realization. Why am I now jumping into the foray? Surely there is only so much that can be said about doing nothing.
After almost a decade of working with hundreds of individuals from Toronto and beyond, and pitching meditation all the while, it seems clear that the hum and buzz of urban living is gathering more momentum than ever. The levels of anxiety, rage, stress, depression, projections, and the inability to move through and process emotional discomfort, seems to be indicating the degree to which we have disconnected from our centres, from the quiet places within ourselves, our inherent healing ability, getting caught in the delusions of our own minds and egos.
One of my teachers said to me that sitting in gratitude is storing a drop of consciousness in your being. As does love, compassion and silence. And then through depositing thousands and thousands of drops of consciousness, we heal ourselves, and ultimately, we move into self-realization. And I posit that must hold true for a city as well. Our collective has its own experience, its pain and its grace, and that it is a sum total of all of us as parts.
So I am here with the intention of adding another drop or two of consciousness with the combined efforts of my fellow citizens, those that meditate in the room with me, and all the other groups of meditation and yoga and tai chi and chi gong and knitting and walking and praying. The wonderful thing this reveals is the convenient truth that when we heal ourselves we heal those around us.