When we look at something, and we’re thinking, we’re seeing the content of our thoughts:
But, since we’re thinking, our thoughts might not correspond to what is really in front of us.
In meditation, our mind becomes quiet. There are no thoughts. We perceive directly, and enjoy fully, what is really in front of us.
I had told my boss that I teach Sahaja Meditation at a local library. A few days ago, on a particularly stressful day at work, she sought me out, and asked if I could help her to meditate. We found a quiet place with no distractions, and, using the simple techniques of Sahaja Meditation, we were soon both in a quiet, calm state. She felt some relief from the traumas of the day (her thoughts slowed down, with perhaps a minute of complete mental silence), and was open to trying to meditate on her own at home.
A friend of mine tried Sahaja Meditation, and after five months or so, decided to try meditating before one of her regular blood pressure checks. Her doctor was surprised by the result, and measured her blood pressure a second time, to confirm the reading: Her blood pressure, usually high, was completely normal.
Nine months after she had started meditating, her schedule got so hectic that she stopped meditating every day. When she went to get her blood pressure checked, it had gone back up again. She knew what she had to do: get back to meditating every day.
Entering a state of meditation is like being in a forest with a road running through it. You stand in the silence of the forest and absorb the grandeur around you. Then, a lone car drives along the road, is audible and visible for a few seconds, and then is gone again. In the stillness of Sahaja Meditation, that’s how a thought is: it comes, it’s briefly in our attention, and then it’s gone. We don’t fight it, we just watch it.
A special public program introducing Sahaja Meditation will be held at the
New York Society for Ethical Culture,
2 West 64th Street at Central Park West
on Tuesday, May 3, 2011 at 7:00 p.m.
The program is in honor of the memory of Mrs. Nirmala Srivastava, the founder of Sahaja Meditation, known throughout the world as “Shri Mataji”, or revered mother.
I was feeling agitated, a bit off-balance. Then I overheard the voice of a good friend on the telephone (he was having a conversation with my wife). I couldn’t make out the exact words he was saying, but I felt the effect of his voice right away. He meditates and teaches Sahaja meditation in high schools. His voice soothed me down. My mood lightened. The negative thoughts were gone.
On Wednesday, February 23, 2011, my best friend passed away. Mrs. Nirmala Srivastava, the founder of Sahaja Meditation, and the founder of Sahaja Yoga, the universal spiritual path, passed away in Genoa, Italy. She was 87 years old.
I first met Mrs. Srivastava in Bombay in January 1982. I spent the next three months travelling with her to different parts of India, and I visited her at her residence in London.
I had the opportunity to see her and talk with her several times over the past 29 years. No matter what my emotional state, she was always glad to see me. She never asked me why I seemed to be learning how to meditate so slowly. Maybe she knew me better than I knew myself. The first time I met her, in 1982, she said to me, “Sometimes it takes a long time.”
Like many others around the world, I addressed her as “Shri Mataji” — Mother. She was always welcoming and gracious. She gave to me only pure love. She was like my Godmother. She saw only my potential, and never my shortcomings. She always encouraged me.
She taught me how to attain a state of sublime inner peace and calm. Meditating with her in India, I experienced for the first time what it meant to stop being separate from everyone else, and instead feel — and enjoy — another person without any distance between them and me.
She showed me that in a state of inner silence, in meditation, every human being shared the same awareness: that we are all connected, we are all part of one human family. It wasn’t a theory or concept. In deep meditation, I could simply feel another human being, and know everything about them.
As I learned to accept other people as they were, I gradually learned to accept myself. I discovered I could actually give compassion and love to others, and the gift of inner silence and peace. All this I received from Shri Mataji. This ability to give love to others is Shri Mataji’s greatest gift to me and to everyone who knew her and loved her. This is her legacy.
–Mark Taylor
“Nicholas Carr, author of ‘The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains,’ says technology amplifies everything, good instincts and base. While technology is amoral, he said, our brains may be rewired in disturbing ways.
” ‘Researchers say that we need to be quiet and attentive if we want to tap into our deeper emotions,” he said. “If we’re constantly interrupted and distracted, we kind of short-circuit our empathy. If you dampen empathy and you encourage the immediate expression of whatever is in your mind, you get a lot of nastiness that wouldn’t have occurred before.’ ”
–Excerpted from a column by Maureen Dowd in The New York Times, Sunday Opinion section, page 11, Sunday, February 20, 2011. She wrote that
T w i t t e r and the ability to post anonymous comments on the web can work against civil discourse.
At a recent Sahaja Meditation meeting, someone was explaining a little about the meditation. What I noticed was how much more relaxed and quiet I felt inside when the speaker stopped talking every few minutes. The real message about the power of the meditation wasn’t conveyed in the words; it was in the enjoyable inner peace in the silences between the words.