Having tried, and indeed found useful, both Transcendental Meditation and the other method I mentioned earlier, the importance of those fleeting moments of stillness—of no thoughts, of forgetting the body and mind, and the bliss they offer—was not unfamiliar to me. However, these two types of meditation did not involve music, though to my knowledge they didn’t exclude it either.

The third method, which I chose as my preferred path for meditation, was slightly different. My elder son often took me to satsangs in Seattle. Apart from these, a few other followers known to my son would meet on different days of the week for group meditation. Later on, my son even organized these group meditations at his own home.

One thing that always accompanied these satsangs or the group meditations was a potluck.

The difference I hinted at is the music. The Master himself had composed numerous songs, or hymns, in both Hindi and English, all with the same melodies and meanings. In fact, Western musical notations were also available. Whether it was the raga or the scale, the music touched your heart and tugged at the strings of devotion, peace, calmness, and happiness. There were always a few accomplished singers with sonorous, divine voices at the satsangs. Even in the smaller group meditations at home, a few of these singers would be present. The accompaniment was always a harmonium.

All the households that organized these meditations had their own harmoniums.

What is it about the harmonium’s sound that pulls your wandering attention back to the song, the music, and the melody? What is it in the singers' voices that captivates the mind? Is it the lyrics, the melody itself, or the voice that creates this powerful aura of devotion?

After a brief prayer, when a few notes are played on the harmonium, there is an immediate quiet. Not a gradual transition from 0 to 60, but rather from 60 to 0 in half the time. Your mind suddenly goes blank, your body feels as though it’s in free fall, and the tension releases in an instant. A sudden wave of relaxation is followed by an effortless drift into this rippling stillness. As the song fades, with the voices growing softer and the harmonium's sound lowering, it all comes to a stop. In that sudden stillness, tranquility explodes.

How can one not meditate in such an atmosphere?

And as time passes, seemingly without effort, the music slowly starts again, and you gently come out of meditation—calmness still surrounding you.

At home, while trying to meditate alone, I missed this music. As an alternative, I kept a framed photograph of the Himalayas. Staring at that photograph, thinking of the stillness of the mountain, the frozen state of the snow, and the rippleless calmness of the lake, my mind would slowly settle.

Continued in 151. Tired But Not Retired