I was a typical teen growing up in the 1960s, when everybody was

When David Suchet reflected, “I was a typical teen growing up in the 1960s, when everybody was into gurus and meditation,” he was not simply describing the fashion of a bygone age. He was pointing to a moment in human history when the youth of the West looked eastward, yearning for spiritual guidance and inner stillness amidst the turbulence of change. The 1960s were an age of rebellion and awakening, of breaking the chains of old conventions, yet they were also a time of searching, when restless hearts sought meaning beyond materialism. His words capture the spirit of a generation that thirsted for wisdom, meditation, and the presence of teachers, or gurus, to calm the storm within.

The origin of this truth lies in the cultural upheaval of that era. War raged in Vietnam, civil rights movements shook nations, and new music and art challenged the rigid orders of the past. Amidst such chaos, many turned inward, discovering practices like meditation, yoga, and spiritual discipline, often introduced by Eastern masters who brought their traditions to the West. Figures such as Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and others became symbols of a deeper longing—the hunger for silence in a world of noise, for truth in a world of shifting lies. Suchet, like countless others of his generation, was swept into this current, shaped by a movement that sought eternity in the midst of impermanence.

History has seen such currents rise before. In the days of Ashoka the Great, after his violent conquest, he turned from the sword to the teachings of the Buddha, embracing meditation and spreading it across his empire. His transformation was not merely political but deeply spiritual, showing how meditation can calm even the most war-torn of souls. Likewise, the 1960s bore witness to youths, weary of conflict and division, turning to gurus and practices of the spirit, hoping to transform themselves before transforming the world.

The power of meditation is not in escaping reality but in grounding oneself amidst it. To meditate is to draw deep breaths when the world spins in frenzy, to listen to the quiet voice of the soul when all other voices clash. The teenagers of Suchet’s age were not wrong to seek this path; for while some found only fads, others discovered practices that became lifelong companions, granting them resilience and clarity. In this, we see a universal truth: each generation, when confronted by upheaval, must look both outward for change and inward for peace.

The lesson here is enduring: trends may fade, but the pursuit of inner stillness is timeless. Whether in the 1960s or in our own troubled age, the call to sit in silence, to breathe, and to seek guidance from those who walk ahead of us on the path, remains vital. The gurus may change, the names of the practices may differ, but the human heart’s thirst for meaning never dies. We are, as Suchet reminds us, bound to seek, for to be human is to hunger for both truth and tranquility.

For us, the children of tomorrow, the counsel is clear: do not dismiss the practices of spirit as relics of a passing age. Instead, take them into your own lives. Begin with stillness each day; allow meditation to calm your mind. Seek out wise teachers—not for blind devotion, but for learning the discipline of focus, compassion, and self-knowledge. In a time where distractions are many and noise is constant, this practice is not merely helpful—it is essential.

Thus let Suchet’s remembrance be a torch: the 1960s youth sought light in meditation when the world seemed dark. So too must we, in our own age, return to the well of inner silence. For it is there, in the still waters of the heart, that wisdom speaks, and where the soul learns to walk in harmony, even when the world trembles.