Within seconds, a conference hall of over 1,000 people quickly turned into a quiet meditation room for a whole therapeutic fifteen minutes. At the flip of a switch, the hall went from a place of chatter and lectures to pure pin-drop silence. This large room that had served as a conference hall for the past 24 hours had now become a place of deep reflection, like a sanctuary. Strangers who sat next to each other on chairs were now side by side on the ground, forming circles around the stage. The speakers themselves went down on their knees, doing the same. All in unison, we closed our eyes and drew our heads toward our chests. The speaker calmly asked us to imagine looking into our hearts. What is currently occupying our hearts? How can we filter out any worldly distractions in our hearts? Where does God fall in place? How can we make God the center of our thoughts and actions?
Here was each and every one of us in the room, people who had flown for hours to get here, people who left their families for a spiritual retreat, all on different journeys but in this moment, united by our thoughts of God’s remembrance, joined by a process of spiritual healing.
Overtaken by the power of mindfulness, I forgot where I was, but not for a moment did I forget where I belonged: with Him, Our Creator and Sustainer who fashioned the very heart I was contemplating. For years, I had worried about the intrusion of death, which strips you away from all people meaningful in your life. But for once, I was comforted by the thought of being stripped away from everything but what truly mattered: my presence with God. I imagined myself in my grave, hearing the voices of loved ones around me but not wanting to engage; leave me be, I am rejoicing with my Creator.
Before the fifteen minutes were over, which felt like a lifetime of removing the dirt within, I couldn’t help but reflect on the Day of Judgment. Would it be this quiet and peaceful? My wonder took me places until the speaker stood up, and the silence was overtaken by chatter and the true intruder: life.
Here was each and every one of us in the room, people who had flown for hours to get here, people who left their families for a spiritual retreat, all on different journeys but in this moment, united by our thoughts of God’s remembrance, joined by a process of spiritual healing.
Overtaken by the power of mindfulness, I forgot where I was, but not for a moment did I forget where I belonged: with Him, Our Creator and Sustainer who fashioned the very heart I was contemplating. For years, I had worried about the intrusion of death, which strips you away from all people meaningful in your life. But for once, I was comforted by the thought of being stripped away from everything but what truly mattered: my presence with God. I imagined myself in my grave, hearing the voices of loved ones around me but not wanting to engage; leave me be, I am rejoicing with my Creator.
Before the fifteen minutes were over, which felt like a lifetime of removing the dirt within, I couldn’t help but reflect on the Day of Judgment. Would it be this quiet and peaceful? My wonder took me places until the speaker stood up, and the silence was overtaken by chatter and the true intruder: life.
