The Geography of Bliss

“Did you really greet them, or was it a formality” he
asks. “Were you like a flight attendant saying, ‘Have a nice
day’ You don’t really mean it.” A titter of laughter ripples
through the crowd.
Guru-ji tell us that a baby smiles four hundred times a
day. Adults only seventeen times. Married adults even less,
he says, and the crowd breaks into laughter again.
“What is life with no smile, no laughter A stressed
person cannot smile.”
Guru-ji moves from one end of the stage to another,
including the entire audience in the event, like any good
speaker. He tells us that we need to create a space for
imperfection in our lives.
“Why do we lose our temper Because we love
perfection. Create a little room for imperfection in your life.
Are you still with me”
“Yes!” shouts the audience, in perfect unison.
The lights are dimmed, and we’re told to massage our
jaws and eyebrows. It feels good. Then, we’re instructed to
make the “om” sound. The word is Sanskrit, the language
of the ancient Hindu texts. It is a language based on
vibrations. In Sanskrit, you don’t merely hear words, you
feel them.
Hearing and feeling about one thousand people saying
“om” at the same time is something to behold. The whole
room feels as if it is vibrating. I like this, I think, yes, I like
this, and it dawns on me how much I associate India with
sounds—the singsong call of a street hawker, the bleating