A Meditation: The 22 Minutes I Disappeared

April 15, 2011— -- I have always been intrigued by the idea of meditation. I would love to be able to sit quietly, relax and let my mind wander into a trancelike rest, all at the same time.

There are reported medical benefits to regular meditation too: you can bring down your heart rate and blood pressure. Meditation has been shown to help insomniacs sleep, nervous Nellies relax and those with chronic pain breathe more easily.

Meditation sounds like a perfect dream, actually, but who has time for that? As a television producer, I would say my daily list of things to do can run longer than a pilgrimage to the Ganges. Would it be worth adding meditation to my to-do list? I needed to be convinced.

So I went to Avery Fisher Hall in Manhattan for a group meditation led by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, a spiritual leader and founder of The Art of Living Foundation. "The Guru," as he is called, traveled from southern India to kick off the "I Meditate NY" campaign, designed to introduce stressed-out New Yorkers to the powers of the ancient practice of meditation. Gathered in the hall normally reserved for plays and operas were nearly 2,700 people ready to follow the spiritual teachings of the master on stage.

The preparation began with ancient Sanskrit chants from the folk group Bakti and soulful vocals from the Grammy-nominated singer Chandrika Tandon. But before long The Guru took center stage, sitting in the lotus position on a regal loveseat.

With a creeping smile on his face, he began to explain the three platinum rules of meditation. The first, he said, was to say to oneself, "For the next 10 minutes, I want nothing." Sounded simple enough, but the truth is I did want something. I was a little hungry, even though I had a pretty big cheeseburger a few hours earlier. It even had all sorts of extras on it. My mind started to wander: Why was I hungry when I just had a big meal? Maybe it wasn't as big as I thought? Oh man, that means that cheeseburger must have clearly been full of empty calories.

But The Guru had already moved on to platinum rule number two: "For the next 10 minutes, I do nothing." Just then, my foot started to itch. I reached down to scratch it immediately, figuring the clock hadn't yet started.

Rule three: "For the next ten minutes, I am nothing." Now he was on to something. I liked that idea. It made me feel as if I had permission to float away, let my spirit drift into oblivion, all the while surrounded by thousands of people.