Meditating on Sundays

On Sundays we had to get up early and be quiet. We would walk on paths through the woods on the way to the meditation meadow or sometimes take the longer way on the rocky road when our mom didn’t feeling like trekking the steep trails through the valley with two little kids.

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Sunday meditators

Techy guys recording Sunday Services

If we made any noise we were told “sshhh”. The meadow would already be full of people who got there for sunrise and a flow of people like us silently and respectfully joining them. Most of them sitting on little pillows they had carried there tucked under their arms. And there they’d sit, hundreds of them with their backs straight and their legs folded for what seemed like forever. I would look at my mom and wonder how she could keep her eyes closed for so long. Fidgeting, but not making noise, I’d watch all these people, some I knew, some I didn’t, waiting for them to start the OMing.

The Meditation Meadow was on a hill partially covered in trees. It wasn’t as big and lush as the meadow with the stage where we had big parties. This was a sacred meadow where people went to services every Sunday and where people got married by the tall, thin man named Steven. For some reason he was real special. Everyone really liked him and wanted to do what he said. Often people would say to other people “Steven said this” or “Steven said that”. When there was a conflict, it was Steven that was consulted to judge the situation and make a decision. Everyone really liked him. Well maybe not everyone exactly liked him but they had to respect him. It was kinda like he was everyone’s dad or something. He lived far away on the other side of the Farm so I barely ever saw him but I knew who he was, of course. After they OM he will talk and talk and talk on a microphone while lots of “doobies” are passed around among the grownups. With the hundreds of people sitting there it has been utterly quiet besides the occasional cough or throat clearing for what seems like an eternity. I can barely wait for the OMing to begin. Then, finally, it starts. At first just a few people but within seconds the entire meadow is vibrating with a harmonic melody. It is awesome. I love hearing the hum of everyone’s voice intertwining and merging into one beautiful sound with countless tones.

Steven “rapping” at Sunday Services

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