The brochure for the retreat
promised to give us
peace of mind and tranquility.
I was shown down to the main hall
and instructed to sit cross-legged
on the carpet.
You need to repeat a mantra, the guru said.
A word or phrase, to repeat to yourself,
for relaxation and to focus your mind.
There are lots of ancient words in Sanskrit
I will give you your own mantra.
I explained that I would prefer a term
I could comprehend, that I understood,
rather than repeat something
I didn\'t know the meaning of.
I\'ll give you until the end of the day,
my guru said,
if you don\'t have a mantra
by the morning,
I will give you a word to chant.
In the small bedroom chamber
that night,
on the hard single bed
I lay in the dark
and thought it over.
Names and phrases went around
and around in my mind,
lines from poems,
bits of film dialogue,
trying to find the perfect
word or phrase to
use as my mantra.
And then I found it.
I repeated the words to myself.
Yes, it was perfect.
It spoke to me of relaxation,
of calm, of unwinding,
of switching off,
and zoning out.
Just perfect.
The following morning,
my guru found me in the retreat
kitchen, where I was eating
my muesli and sipping green tea.
Good morning,
he said with a smile,
do you have your mantra?
Oh yes, I grinned.
And what have you decided on?
Strawberry Fields Forever.
I declared.
For a moment he said nothing,
closing his eyes and
trying my 60\'s psychedelic mantra
out for size.
Then he opened his eyes
and nodded.
Perfect, he said.