The Healing Power of Writing and Meditation

Across the floor of the mind and body room, a sea of mats with people lying on them, meditating to the sound of our stories, the rhythm of our words. We read about an immigrant grandmother whose garden taught her children to cherish the beauty of a blossom in bloom, we read of a balloon flight drifting high above stone barns and a wishing well that form the landscape of our home; a story of a long-ago summer at the shore where a mother stood on the beach, pale brown hair blowing in the sea breeze.

These are the stories of our lives. Our words last beyond us. They are our legacy. But legacy doesn’t belong to only the stories we share aloud; it can be found in every story you write, every reflection you choose to put down on paper. As you write and remember, you are creating something lasting, a gift for those who will come after you. The meditation offers a way to absorb our stories through the heart and the spirit. The room’s aroma is lemon-scented, soothing, and healing. Above us, trees with their branches reaching skyward on cloth-covered ceiling tiles.

I tell the group that writing is a healing journey and a path to self-discovery. I share how my childhood memories of the New Jersey shore bring me back to the little girl I once was. I remind myself to hold her close, remembering how her father’s arms kept her safe above the waves as she shouted, “Take me out to the hair combers, Daddy!”

Whenever I give a reading, either by myself or with other writers, I am reminded of why I do this. This is the connection, the spirit of being truly present with others. The outside world has slowly drifted away, and together we are one in this space. A woman says at the conclusion of our readings from our anthology entitled Moments of Love, that she, too, is a writer. She has filled many notebooks with the memories of her own grandmother. How does she organize her journals? Another woman sits up on her mat; the meditation is over. Perhaps, try organizing it by themes, she said. This is good advice, I think. This is how we share our writing journeys and leave our legacy behind.

As the readings end and the meditation comes to a close, the women roll up their mats and head to the door. Some linger to ask a question or two. Then we had to go back out into the world, where a warm sunny day awaits.

Practice meditation: As you listen, let your mind wander through the rooms of your own memory. What scents, sounds, or textures begin to surface? Perhaps there is a garden from your childhood, an open sky, or a voice on the wind that brings you back to a special moment. Allow yourself to linger there, gathering details and feelings, as our stories invite your own memories to bloom alongside them.