Judith Merritt

Since I retired, I have been exploring the area around my home. I walk for miles on local trails, on city sidewalks and in my favorite place, the Arnold Arboretum. For anyone who loves trees, walking in the Arboretum is paradise, with a different view around every curve. I watch the leaves bud out in the spring and then welcome the summer’s lush foliage providing cooling shade. As the days become shorter, the trees perform their magic, turning their green leaves into a palate of red, orange, yellow and brown. In winter, the bare fingers of the branches allow me to see the architecture of the trees, especially when they are silhouetted against a snowy backdrop.

The history of my meditation practice begins in the early 1970’s when my husband and I scraped together the money to pay for Transcendental Meditation training. We met with a trainer several evenings and learned about how to meditate. In great secrecy, we were each given a special mantra…a nonsense word…that we would repeat during meditation. Trainers instructed us to never tell anyone about our mantra, and to this day, I have never told anyone. For all I know, we might have all received the same word.