An Unexpected Gift: Deepak and Oprah's 21-Day Meditation

Deepak Chopra proved that even someone like me, a harried mother of teenagers, frustrated writer, married to the second-coming of the Energizer Bunny, can learn to meditate. I’ve tried to meditate in the past. I’ve lit candles, bought wordless music, inspirational books and audibly exhaled. Then the phone rings. Like a magnetic force, I draw every nearby animate being in the vicinity (my kids, my husband, a stray salamander, the cat). Somehow, when our cat cocks his head as if to say “What the hell are you doing?” it shatters my concentration. I’ve dreamt of far-off ashrams where I could loft into spiritual ecstasy, but something critical always interferes. Like my daughter’s high school field hockey. In August. In Dallas. In 105 degrees.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Last May in the Winspear Opera House, however, with a couple of thousand other people, Deepak helped me feel the pulse within my fingertips. Meditation within minutes. This was especially impressive because the woman who sat next to me, unavoidable in my peripheral vision, had a masseuse for a boyfriend. I’m not sure if he was really a masseuse, or even her boyfriend, but he determined her bare thighs (in a short skirt, of course) required deep tissue massage. While Deepak quoted Rumi (You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the ocean in a drop.), boyfriend rubbed. My mind skipped from curiosity, to indignation, to outrage, to an idea. If I can meditate through this, I ought to be able to ignore my cat.

Deepak encouraged us to focus on three questions: Who am I? What do I really want? What is my purpose? I left the lecture so inspired I meditated three days in a row. I felt fantastic, less stressed, more thoughtful, and less rushed. Then, as soon as I hopped on the meditation wagon, I fell off. The minutia of life turned too pressing to let go of minutes for an abstract cause.

When I saw the email for Oprah and Deepak’s 21-Day Meditation Challenge, I decided to try again. I crafted my own version of the plan. I’d dedicate twenty minutes a day, read something inspirational, and then think about the questions Chopra asked. Who am I? What do I really want? What is my purpose? A few days ago I added one more suggested by Rae Marie Jaeger from the Chopra Center: What deserves my gratitude?

I thought I might have to buy a book for my “inspirational reading,” but something told me to look on my shelf. I found an old copy of Teilhard de Chardin’s Building the Earth. I must have taken this book from my parents' shelf when my mother died a few years ago. Both my parents, both now dead, were ardent Catholics. As I held the book in my hand, I wondered if they ever met de Chardin. I feel certain that they had both held this book. Knowing my parents, they debated its contents. Fiercely. Probably over martinis. I ran my finger across Theilhard's signature, wondering if my parents had done the same.

On the first page, I read something that felt like a blessing from them, an "atta-girl" message from whatever energy form my parents now inhabit:

“But today something is happening to the whole structure of human consciousness. A fresh kind of life is starting.” Teilhard de Chardin, Building the Earth

Each day of meditating has brought an gift like this, all gleaned from a book I already own, in my own office, in the sweltering heat of a Dallas summer. Most mornings I’m not ready for the alarm, 20 minutes earlier than usual, but I’ve become curious as to what those minutes might bring. “The Who am I?” question has rendered visuals that range from routine to abstract: a candle, a flower, a lighthouse, a walking stick, an outline of a body filled with bluish-white light in a yoga position I don’t recognize. That last image came with words: a spiritual being seeking sustenance.

Even in six days (I started a few days earlier than the August 5^th Meditation Challenge start date), my concentration has improved. Oprah and Deepak have simultaneously made the Texas heat more tolerable and saved me a cost of a plane ticket to a far-off place. I'm grateful for this insight gained in just the first week. A fresh kind of life doesn’t need an ashram, but only minutes carved into our own sacred space.

The key is starting. And ignoring the cat.

If you want to join into the 21 Meditation Challenge (it’s free), just press on this link for more information.

Go to the Struck by Living website for more information about Julie K Hersh, her book or speaking engagements.