Unpacked: A Walker Returns Home

I would like to tell you of the tea that steeps peacefully before me. Like most things of apparent insignificance, this tea contains within it depth beyond measure.

The tea, a Tazo tea called “Om,” is a blend of green and black teas, imbued, according to Tazo, with the “spirit and taste of the high Himalayas.” I am not familiar with the spirit and taste of the high Himalayas, but I can recommend it with a touch of lemon and honey.

The tea’s paper encasing explains the name, Om, with the following: “The word Om is frequently seen on prayer wheels, stones and flags as you walk through the Himalayas. To merely say it releases a vibration of peace. Imagine what happens when you drink it.”

Let us leave Om for just a moment.

For six months, Chana and I walked. As our walk unfolded, so did the following understanding between us: If I don’t feel like speaking right now, I won’t. If you don’t feel like speaking right now, I won’t pressure you. The result was twofold:

1-Comfortable Silence: We could comfortably absorb our surroundings, relive a conversation in our heads, contemplate something, not think about anything and/or simply enjoy silence for the sake of silence.

2-Real Conversation: Because we didn’t feel compelled to speak, we had real conversations. We spoke lightly and we spoke intensely. But no matter what the conversation, we were fully committed.

Now I’m home. Within my first week back, I’d guess that I greeted more words than in the entire half year that preceded it: My dearest friends and acquaintances, countless strangers and passers-by, clerks and service-reps. Advertisements, billboards, posters, newspapers, email and books. Not to mention that little nag of a device that I’m quicker to answer and interrupt my life, then if heaven Itself were to call out my name- my cellphone. Hermits withstanding, anyone who leads a city-life faces an endless stream of words on a daily basis.

I would like you to do something: Imitate someone meditating.

Did you by any chance, close your eyes and say, “Ommmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

I thought you might. And here we are, back to me tea.

Apparently, the mmm sound, according to Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, appears like a perfect wavy line when measured on an oscilloscope. Other sounds produce chaotic, disorderly lines. But not mmm. Mmm mimics the sound of a tuning fork- like the word “hum.” The oscilloscope is expressing what many meditative traditions have known for years, that “the m sound is seen as one that leads to tranquility and inner peace” (Kaplan, Jewish Meditation, 1985, p. 129-30)

There is a food company called Humm Foods (makers of Larabar). They call themselves so because of a tradition that “Humm” foods “resonate with energy in a whole, natural state” (See the packaging on the back of your next Larabar). In Hebrew, mmm is used similarly: Am is the word for nation- a mass of people identifying a peaceful unity about them that transcends separateness and differences. Shem, the word for name, works the same way. Perhaps home has a similar foundation? But besides home, where else do we find Om in English??

You guessed it. Our meditative spirit comes creeping up, desperately trying to come through, right…um…in the middle…um…of our…um…sentences. We instinctively try to squeeze some peace of mind into our sentences, into our lives. But there is no time. There are too many words.

Furthermore, Um is not considered refined speech. Too many Ums sounds uneducated to “civilized” folk like ourselves. Kids tend to say Um more than adults, but slowly, they too learn the “correct” approach to Um- filtering it out. Do you see what’s really happening? What we have done? We try to eliminate Um! Those trained in Tazo tea bags might make time to drink Om. Masters of maditative traditions make time for their Ommmmms. But the rest of us, English speakers, at least? We bury our Ums. We have invalidated tranquility!

Back in the wilderness, tranquility was the norm. So many creations surrounding us in peaceful silence. But back in the city, due to words overload, I feel as if my tranquility has left me.

I want it back, and I am going to search for it. I happily invite you to join my quest. In the coming posts, I will try to reclaim some of my runaway tranquility, hidden within my words and the city’s lack of silence. In the end, I will do my best to commit to treasuring my words, uncovering silence and making sure even to listen for a hum I’m yet to appreciate enough- the hum of my home- the busy but harmonic music of this most precious of cities.

In the meantime, I leave you to hum. And if transcendental meditation isn’t your thing, then, at the very least, grab yourself a steamy mug of Tazo’s Om tea and enjoy taking in the taste and spirit of the High Himalayas.

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Tags: Challenges, City, Um, Words

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 1st, 2008 at 10:41 am and is filed under Challenges of the City, Words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.