I used to uphold airport meditation as a measure of accomplishment; a rite of passage so to speak in the quest to “be a good meditator” regardless of outer circumstances. I pursued this goal off and on over a decade or so, sitting with equal vigor in the relative quiet of NW Arkansas’ XNA and the multi-linguistic clamor of New York’s JFK.
It wasn’t until February, 2012, however, that I first experienced a profoundly immersive airport meditation. It happened in Terminal B (I believe) of Dallas Fort Worth’s International Airport (DFW). Arizona-bound to see my father who was in the final days of his life, I settled into the crowded gate area and closed my eyes, seeking not some pre-defined success or self-affirmation but rather Love’s solace and radiant silence. What else can one do when approaching a convergence of vulnerability and the profound need for courage, grace and strength?
I recalled that spontaneous DFW experience last weekend as I wandered through O’Hare International after an embracing weekend with family in Chicago. Surrounded by routine boarding calls and urgent gate change announcements, I was reminded that the primary obstacle to hearing the Heart’s Song rises not so much from outer noise but from the inner clatter of scattering thoughts and emotions and the agendas they agitate.
I still practice airport meditation on occasion, although thankfully no longer compelled by the noisy desire for accomplishment. The simple possibility of once again registering the sweet Note of our Togetherness is more than enough.