Spring Cleaning @Calm Chicago Center for Mindfulness and Compassion


Welcome to spring everyone. And while it may not quite feel like spring yet, perhaps it just requires a shift in mind set. A new perspective. 

In that spirit, we’ve undertaken a huge dose of spring cleaning to the website and to Calm Chicago itself.

We’re proud to announce a new look and many new services featuring mindfulness practices that can truly transform your life. (They sure did change mine!) We’ve been here since 2008, which is really hard to believe! Where has the time gone? We helped so many people: community members, students, veterans, office workers, executives and more. It’s humbling. That’s a fact. I think we’ve helped each other. Made community.

We have new instructors joining us too. Stay tuned for those bios and pictures soon. They’re some mighty kind people, dedicated to helping us all live in greater peace, harmony…more wisely, compassionately – from a place deep inside which recognizes that our essential nature is not as a bunch of lone beings, adrift in the universe, but interconnected beings, whose fate and that of our home, this blue gem, hangs in the balance.

What kind of people do we want to be? What kind of world do we wish to create? We have choices to make, moment by moment, breath by breath…I hope you will join together with us and work to make them full of unconditional love, first for yourselves and then all the rest of us, down to the smallest being. Even down to the invisible, the unknown.

If we can help you on your path, help you to find your way – please contact us. We’re here to help.

We’ll leave you with this then. A lovely poem by Mary Oliver, about setting out, persevering no matter what.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Copyright @ 1986 by Mary Oliver. First published in Dream Work, Atlantic Monthly Press. Reprinted inNew and Selected Poems, Volume One, Beacon Press.



Author: Hillary Johnson

Improvisational documentary and fine art photographer.

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