life that had proven to be quite a challenge being comprised of retirement

and aging. I had gone from practicing medicine for 40 years to becoming

the patient requiring complex back surgery, a hip replacement and other

treatments. I had gone from running long distances for 40 years to zero

running and I had gone from being fairly even keeled to anxious.

I had walked (more likely, ran) by Naperville Meditation hundreds of times

in the past 20 years as I live about 4 blocks away. I decided to stop at the

Center to see if meditation could offer me a way to cope with chronic pain

and anxiety.

I was welcomed by two genuinely caring, devoted Korean ladies who, from

the first few minutes, conveyed compassion and confidence. I have been

coming twice per week ever since. I liken the meditation journey to that of

playing a musical instrument. The more one practices, the better one

gets. I can see that meditation is a marathon, not a sprint. It is a targeted,

planned method to sift through thoughts and emotions that have been

learned since birth, often to our detriment. The learned anger, biases,

judgments and images of ourselves are akin to many feet of snow sitting

atop a mountain. The image can appear beautiful, tranquil and pure, but

may harbor rocks, tree stumps and crevices. The snow can slide down

the mountain either quickly or slowly over time. The rapid release is an

avalanche and is a crisis. A slower release might look like a large ball of

snow rolling down the mountain gaining mass and speed until it ends up at

the bottom. Either way, thoughts and emotions that were once “spread

out” in the snow become compacted, and meditation can be the

restorative practice that heals.

Meditation seeks to melt the snow away, not with flamethrowers, but

rather with the heat given off by a cup of tea, a candle, the sun, or the 98.6

degree innate temperature of the body. When the snow is gone and

obstacles have been “released”, what is left is what we started with that

has perfect purity and order, that which was endowed by Our Creator.

I have told my guides many times that I see myself continuing this journey

for whatever time I have left. I am 76 years old and cherish every moment

I am inside 920 Loomis St. This is truly an oasis in a parched desert.