This is supposed to be the holiest of sounds within which reverberates the rhythm of silence and chaos, creation and deconstruction. My Elders started all their journeys by uttering this word and I have this word imprinted in my mind since times gone by.
On Yonge Street, as the Go bus turns in to the Richmond Hill Centre and swings out again on its way to York University, I see this temple: The Vishnu Mandir with its om touching the sky.
Perhaps it wishes me well, perhaps I seek a deep rooted peace. All I know that my eyes seek out this Om, every time I pass that way.
Yet to many on the bus, it is an unfamiliar symbol of something 'out there'. As am I, the silver haired woman, weighed down with bags, who bows her head as the bus turns.
In the land of my birth it is already morning as I make my way to York University.
And one day at a time, I reclaim my Om, as I become another regular sight in a land far away.
Beck, U, & Sznaider, N. (2006). Unpacking cosmopolitanism for the social sciences: a research agenda. The British Journal of Sociology, 57(1), 1-23.
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