I learnt TM at the Glasgow centre in 2012 from William Marriott and started volunteering there later that year after visiting Angela for a checking. I had been out of work and I mentioned that I was thinking about getting a volunteer job now that I wasn’t quite so anxious. Since William had just left to teach in England, Angela was looking for some help so it worked out perfectly. 

Over the years I had lots of different jobs at the centre. Cleaning, polishing, hoovering, shredding papers, washing dishes, chopping, cooking, painting the office and the bookshelves, moving furniture, mounting the TV, scanning, photocopying, filing, database entry, updating the website, filming wee videos, editing, writing, drawing, graphic design, printing T-Shirts, even lifting the carpet. I’ve also taken many classes and participated in many events. Sanskrit classes, marma therapy, aromatherapy, light and gem therapy, classical Vedic music concerts, talks from scientists and musicians and even the late Bevin Morris. I learned about Ayurveda from Dr Donn and Dr Rajvinder. And I got to spend time with Brian, the amazing cook taught me some of the wonderful recipes he made for the centre over the years, and Stan who built the lovely wooden money boxes. 

This is all to say, I spent a lot of time at the TM Centre. And I’m so appreciative of the time I spent there. And all the teachers that have built it over the years. Angela, Sarah, Lewis, Ian and Anna, David Rae. And all of the other volunteers. And all the regulars from the coherence days and the rounding courses here in Scotland, and the unforgettable trips to Inishraher. I appreciate that the community allowed me to be myself. To be awkward and weird and aloof and still participate in the community on my own terms and contribute in a way that I’m able without having to force myself into a particular box. TM gave me to tools to go within and to reflect, but being a part of the TM Centre and the community there has given me an insight and a perspective that I don’t think I could have ever gained on my own. 

Angela and Sarah’s positivity since the fire has been lovely and inspiring but I’ve got to say I’ve been quite upset about the destruction of the centre. It’s hit me pretty hard. There was a calmness in that wee shoebox of a room that I don’t think exists anywhere else in Glasgow and I’m sad that it’s not there anymore. 

I don’t like waste. Whether it’s energy or things or money. I think of all the time and energy spent building such a comfortable space. The furniture. The foam. The carpet. The book shelves and tables. The TV. All those amazing books. The DVDs. The pictures, paintings and photos. The computers. The printer. The desks. The trolley. The cooking equipment. The utensils. Fifteen years of scavenging, gathering, hunting and buying. Now it’s all gone. 

I love fire as well. Nothing more relaxing than sitting next to a nice camp fire, feeling the warmth and watching the flames dance in the dark. Seeing that turret go up in flames, the one that we had so many meals in, was tragic and beautiful all at once. The thing about a fire like that though is that it’s so powerful that it demands a level of acceptance. Everything’s gone. Burnt up. There’s nothing to do but accept it. The surreal nature of such a catastrophic event provides a new perspective on the nature of the universe and our place in it. Our lack of control becomes palpable. And our desire to accept the true nature of reality becomes a necessity in the face of such destruction. 

It reminded me of a movie from the 1950s called The Incredible Shrinking Man. In it, a man begins shrinking, incredibly. He’s faced with the knowledge that he won’t ever stop shrinking and that he is going to shrink into nothingness which leads to this realisation: “So close, the infinitesimal and the infinite. But suddenly I knew they were really the two ends of the same concept. The unbelievably small and the unbelievably vast eventually meet like the closing of a gigantic circle. I looked up, as if somehow I would grasp the heavens. The universe. Worlds beyond number. Gods silver tapestry spread across the night. And in that moment I knew the answer to the riddle of the infinite. I had thought in terms of man’s own limited dimension. I had presumed upon nature. That existence begins and ends is man’s conception, not natures. And I felt my body dwindling, melting, becoming nothing. My fears melted away and in their place came acceptance. All this vast majesty of creation. It had to mean something. And then I meant something too. Yes, smaller than the smallest, I meant something too. To god, there is no zero.”

I know the centre will go on the bigger and better things. Angela and Sarah are doing such an amazing job. There have been so many obstacles and disruptions over the years but things have only continued to expand and improve. It’s fun to imagine all the possibilities with them at the helm. 

I’m sure in the coming weeks and years we’ll have time to build new memories in a new centre but for now I think it’s okay to take some time to mourn the loss of the best wee bubble of bliss in the city.