Before Sunday, I did not know what a "meditation mob" was.
The term sounded oxymoronic.
But I had an inkling it might be something like a Flash Mob. And when my friend Sarah invited me to join her on Sunday, at a meditation mob held at the Texas State Capitol, I was too intrigued not to go.
When I walked into the rotunda, the ground floor was packed with quiet meditators. Smaller clusters huddled together on the floors above, while regular tourists to the Capitol grounds simply strolled around us. Anxious mothers grabbed their toddlers' hands. Whole families tried to non-awkwardly step over mediators' heads. Two preteen boys in UT shirts whispered to each other: "whoa ... dude. It's like a protest."
And it was. Sort of. When I sat down to join everyone, I had the distinct feeling of being part of a critical mass, and the immediate kinship you feel with strangers who are simultaneously performing the same delightfully unconventional act you are.
But that's not the coolest part.
The whole meditation lasted about an hour, but in the last 45 minutes, everybody started chanting. I had no idea this was going to happen. Another girl and I instantly made eye contact, with looks that said: "are you hearing what I'm hearing?" Because it honestly sounded like a professional choir.
(Note: If you're reading this on an RSS reader, I highly recommend coming over to the blog site where you can watch this video. I promise you won't be sorry.)
Doesn't it take your breath away?
(To learn more about meditation mobs, which I've just discovered are a worldwide phenomenon, click here).