Home Page: Inspirations of Love and Hope

Tag: Mysticism

  • Awakening Happens Two Ways: Like Lightning, or Like Dawn

    Awakening Happens Two Ways: Like Lightning, or Like Dawn

    Sudden illumination and the slow work of becoming whole

    Into the Mystic is a contemplative reflections series exploring awakening, stability, and the quiet path of inner transformation in ordinary life.

    Introduction: Two Movements of Awakening

    In the landscape of spiritual life, two great patterns appear again and again: the gradual path and the lightning path.

    One unfolds slowly through prayer, discipline, contemplation, and steady inner work. The other arrives suddenly, as if grace breaks through without warning and changes the whole direction of a life in an instant.

    These are often described as opposites.

    But perhaps they are not opposites at all.

    Perhaps they are two movements within the same mystery.

    The Gradual Path

    The gradual path is the way of cultivation. It is the slow shaping of the soul through daily practice. It is the monk returning to prayer. The meditator returning to the breath. The seeker returning again and again to silence, surrender, and truth.

    In Buddhist language, this is the long training of mind and heart. In Christian contemplative language, it is the patient deepening of humility, purification, and love.

    Saint Teresa of Ávila offers one of the clearest examples of this gradual unfolding. Her spiritual life matured through years of prayer, struggle, refinement, and increasing interior depth. The soul, in her vision, is not transformed instantly, but led inward through many chambers, many purifications, many deepenings of surrender.

    Likewise, the Buddha’s awakening, though realized in a decisive moment beneath the Bodhi tree, was preceded by years of seeking, discipline, renunciation, and contemplative effort.

    The flowering may appear sudden.

    But the roots often grow in darkness for a very long time.

    The Lightning Path

    And yet there is also the lightning path.

    This is the path of abrupt transformation. The sudden reversal. The moment when the old self is pierced and something entirely new begins.

    It is not always earned in any neat or linear way. It may come through suffering, illness, loss, beauty, grace, or some inward rupture that breaks the ordinary structure of identity.

    Saint Francis of Assisi seems to belong, at least in part, to this lightning pattern. His early life was not one of long monastic preparation. His conversion appears to have been catalyzed through crisis: illness, war, captivity, disillusionment, and the collapse of the worldly ambitions he once cherished.

    Something broke open in him.

    The man who had been oriented toward status and recognition turned instead toward poverty, simplicity, love, and radical devotion.

    His life did not merely improve.

    It changed direction.

    Sudden Awakening, Gradual Integration

    This pattern appears across many traditions.

    Ramana Maharshi described a sudden awakening that began with a profound confrontation with death in his youth.

    Eckhart Tolle has written about a dramatic inner shift following a period of deep psychological suffering, when the ordinary sense of self seemed to dissolve into a profound stillness.

    Yet what is often overlooked is what came after.

    Tolle spent years living very quietly, often sitting on park benches, allowing his life to slowly reorganize around what he had experienced.

    The awakening may have been sudden.

    The embodiment was gradual.

    Here again we see the same rhythm:

    Lightning followed by integration.

    Faithfulness Without Consolation

    Mother Teresa’s life reflects another variation of this same pattern.

    Her decisive vocational turning — sometimes described as a profound interior call to serve the poorest of the poor — carries the character of a lightning moment.

    Yet what followed was not constant spiritual consolation, but decades of interior dryness, what the Christian mystical tradition calls a dark night of the soul.

    Despite this, she continued her work with remarkable faithfulness.

    Her life suggests something subtle but important:

    Awakening is not always accompanied by pleasant experience.

    Sometimes the lightning clarifies direction, but the gradual path becomes one of love without emotional reinforcement.

    In this way, both the sudden opening and the long endurance that follows become part of the same spiritual maturation.

    The Deeper Pattern

    If we look across these lives — Francis of Assisi, Teresa of Ávila, the Buddha, Ramana Maharshi, Mother Teresa, and Eckhart Tolle — a pattern begins to emerge.

    Some lives begin with discipline and flower into breakthrough.

    Others begin with breakthrough and spend years learning how to live what was revealed.

    Most contain both movements.

    Perhaps this is because awakening is not an event but a relationship.

    A relationship between grace and participation.

    Between what is given and what is lived.

    Zen expresses this beautifully:

    Enlightenment is an accident. Practice makes us accident-prone.
    — Shunryu Suzuki Roshi

    We do not command grace.

    We prepare ourselves.
    We consent.
    We practice.
    We purify intention.
    We return.
    We wait.

    And sometimes, unbidden, the veil thins.

    The Quiet Awakening Most People Miss

    There is also a tender psychological truth here.

    Many sincere seekers imagine that if they have not had a dramatic breakthrough, then perhaps nothing real is happening.

    But this is not so.

    Sometimes awakening is not an explosion but an erosion.

    Not lightning, but river-water.

    Not a sudden fire from heaven, but a long dawn.

    A person may simply discover, after years of difficulty, that they are more stable than they once were.

    Less driven by fear.

    Less imprisoned by old wounds.

    More able to rest in silence.

    More capable of kindness.

    More able to endure uncertainty without collapse.

    This too is awakening.

    This too is grace.

    Where the Two Paths Meet

    Even within the gradual path, lightning may still come.

    Even within the lightning path, long discipline may still be required.

    Francis did not remain only the man of sudden conversion. He became the man of ongoing prayer and ongoing surrender.

    Teresa did not advance only by method. Her life was also marked by moments of powerful grace.

    The Buddha practiced intensely, but the final realization was not something he could force by will alone.

    The great traditions seem to agree on this much:

    Effort matters.

    But effort is not sovereign.

    There is something deeply relieving in that.

    It means we do not have to choose between discipline and grace.

    We can practice faithfully without pretending awakening is a personal achievement.

    We can remain open to the unexpected without neglecting the humble daily work of becoming more honest, more surrendered, and more loving.

    The Real Question

    Perhaps the real spiritual life is not about deciding whether we are on the gradual path or the lightning path.

    Perhaps it is about recognizing which movement is active in us now.

    For some, this season is one of patient cultivation.

    Quiet repetition.
    Invisible deepening.
    Slow healing.
    Hidden roots.

    For others, this season may include rupture, reversal, breakthrough, or an unexpected unveiling that reorders everything.

    And for many, it is both.

    We tend the garden, but we do not control the rain.

    We prepare the lamp, but we do not command the flame.

    We sit.
    We pray.
    We breathe.
    We return.
    We become available.

    In the end, perhaps that is the deepest wisdom:

    Awakening is both gift and participation.

    We are neither passive nor omnipotent.

    We are participants in a mystery we cannot manufacture, but to which we can sincerely offer our lives.

    The gradual path teaches us faithfulness.

    The lightning path teaches us surrender.

    And both, in their own way, lead us beyond ourselves.

    Peace and good. 🌿

  • From Separation to Union: Rediscovering the Boundless Presence of God

    From Separation to Union: Rediscovering the Boundless Presence of God

    “In the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1)

    Introduction: The Question of Elohim

    These opening words of the Bible are familiar to millions. Yet hidden within them lies a mystery often overlooked. Why does the text use Elohim, a plural form, rather than a singular name for God? Is this merely a grammatical curiosity, or does it point toward something deeper—something vast, formless, beyond the limitations of human thought?

    For centuries, many have understood God as a being—separate, external, anthropomorphized. The image of an old man on a throne has dominated religious imagination, reinforcing the belief in a distant deity who governs creation from afar. But what if this is only a veil over a deeper truth? What if Elohim points not to a being among beings, but to the boundless reality itself—the Ein Sof of Kabbalah, the nameless and formless essence beyond all concept?

    This essay is an invitation to step beyond the veil. To move from separation to union, from belief to direct experience. To rediscover what the mystics across traditions have always known: that God is not elsewhere. God is here, now, and always—within and beyond, closer than breath, vaster than thought.

    The Illusion of Separation

    Throughout history, religion has provided humanity with stories, images, and rituals to help navigate the mystery of existence. Yet, in doing so, it has often externalized the divine, creating a subject-object duality—God as a being, separate from creation, separate from us.

    This duality is at the root of suffering. When we see ourselves as apart from the divine, we feel exiled, adrift in a world where God is distant and we are left to struggle alone. This belief in separation has led to fear, to longing, to a desperate seeking for something outside of ourselves that can restore what feels missing.

    But what if nothing was ever missing? What if the separation is only a misunderstanding, a veil drawn over the truth of our oneness with the Infinite?

    The Path of Direct Experience

    The great mystics—those who have peered beyond the veil—have all spoken of a reality beyond belief.

    St. John of the Cross, in his Dark Night of the Soul, describes a journey where all concepts, images, and even the felt presence of God are stripped away. This is not a loss but a purification, a burning away of false idols so that the soul may awaken to the unmediated presence of the divine.

    In the Jewish tradition, the Kabbalists speak of bitul, the nullification of ego, where one dissolves into the infinite Ein Sof, realizing that there never was a separate self to begin with. Similarly, in the contemplative traditions of Buddhism, the stillness of shamatha leads to the recognition of the pristine mind—that which has always been pure, unconditioned, free.

    In every tradition, we find this same invitation: to stop seeking outward and to turn inward, to surrender not to belief, but to direct encounter. To see that God is not an external entity, but the very ground of our being.

    The Return to Oneness

    When we let go of the illusion of separation, what remains?

    Not the loss of self, but its fulfillment. Not an annihilation into emptiness, but a merging into fullness—the great I Am. The “yoga” of the Vedic tradition means precisely this: union. It is the recognition that we were never apart from God, only dreaming that we were.

    This is not an esoteric teaching reserved for monks and mystics. It is the birthright of every human being. It is what Jesus meant when he said, “The kingdom of God is within you.” It is what the Psalmist knew when he wrote, “Be still, and know that I am God.” It is what every human heart longs for—not a distant deity, but the felt truth of divine presence, here and now.

    Tikkun Olam: Healing the World Through Remembrance

    When we remember our oneness with the divine, we heal not only ourselves but the world.

    The Kabbalistic tradition of Tikkun Olam, the healing of the world, is not merely about fixing external problems. It is about restoring divine unity—within ourselves, within society, within creation. The suffering of the world is the suffering of separation. The healing of the world is the return to wholeness.

    This is why this message matters. Not as an intellectual exercise, not as a theological debate, but as the most urgent and necessary work of our time. The world does not need more beliefs about God. It needs people who have remembered their divinity. People who, knowing themselves as inseparable from the infinite, act with wisdom, love, and compassion.

    This is the path of return. Not by striving, not by effort, but by surrendering to the truth that has always been. The Elohim of Genesis was never a separate being. Ein Sof has never been absent. The I Am has never ceased to be what it is.

    All that remains is to awaken.

    Conclusion: The Invitation

    If these words stir something in you, it is because they are already known. The recognition of divine oneness is not something to be attained—it is something to be remembered.

    Wherever you are, whatever your path, the invitation is the same:

    Be still. Let go. And know that you are already home.

    Addendum: Searching for What Is Already Here

    This morning, I took the cream cheese out of the fridge, opened it up, and placed a bagel into the toaster, getting everything prepared for a delicious breakfast. A simple task.

    Then, as my bagel toasted, I opened the fridge again to grab the cream cheese. But it wasn’t there.

    I checked every shelf. Nothing.

    I stood there, puzzled. I know I had cream cheese yesterday. Did I finish it? Did it somehow disappear?

    And then I turned around.

    There it was—right on the counter, exactly where I had left it, sitting open and waiting for me.

    I couldn’t help but laugh.

    How often do we search for something that was never missing? How often do we look for God as if He were distant—forgetting that the divine presence, like my misplaced cream cheese, has been right here all along?

    The moment we stop searching, we arrive.

    And sometimes, the path to enlightenment is as simple as laughing at yourself while spreading cream cheese on a bagel.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • Into the Mystic: The Wave and the Water – Finding Peace in Aimlessness

    In his gentle and profound way, Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us that we are already what we seek to become. Like a wave searching for water, we often find ourselves running in circles, seeking stability and peace, when in fact we are already made of the very essence we are searching for.

    In the previous post, we reflected on the words, “Be still and know that I am God,” and on the teachings that the Kingdom of God is within us, not something to be sought outside. Thich Nhat Hanh offers a similar invitation to stillness, a reminder that we need not search beyond this moment to touch the Divine. His teachings on apranihita—aimlessness—invite us to stop running after something outside of ourselves. The Buddha is not somewhere far away, hidden behind our efforts; the Buddha is within us, right here, right now. We don’t need to become something else or achieve some great transformation to touch the truth of our being. We only need to stop, to recognize that what we are seeking is already present in us.

    This echoes the Christian mystic path as well, where we are called to enter the stillness, to trust in the unfolding of the Divine presence within. St. John of the Cross speaks of surrendering into the Divine presence that is always here, guiding us without the need for striving. The great mystics remind us that the more we seek, the further we may feel from the truth. Yet when we stop seeking, when we allow ourselves to simply be, we find that the Kingdom of God is already here, waiting for us in the stillness of our own hearts.

    Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings give form to this same truth. He uses the image of a wave to help us understand that we are not separate from what we seek. Just as the wave is made of water, we too are made of the very essence we long to touch. The wave doesn’t need to run after the water; it is already water. The black cloud doesn’t need to become a white cloud; it only needs light to shine on it, revealing what was always there. In the same way, we don’t need to become something else to experience peace. We need only to stop, to rest in the awareness of who we already are.

    As both Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj and Papaji have taught, the very act of searching can take us further from what we seek. Papaji even wrote a book titled Call Off the Search, emphasizing that the more we search, the more we reinforce the illusion that the truth is somewhere else. This persistent search keeps us from realizing the truth that is already right here, right now. By continuing to look outside of ourselves, we create a sense of distance, when in reality there is no distance at all—only the stillness of the present moment, where what we seek has always been.

    “You are already what you want to become,” Thich Nhat Hanh says. Yet we spend much of our lives not believing this truth, searching for happiness, fulfillment, and wisdom outside of ourselves. Whether it’s the Kingdom of God, Buddha-nature, or enlightenment, we chase after these ideas as though they are separate from us. But all of the great teachers—whether it be Jesus, the Buddha, or St. John of the Cross—urge us to look within. They tell us that when we stop running after what we already are, we can finally rest in the truth that has always been there.

    This is what Thich Nhat Hanh calls aimlessness. The practice of aimlessness is to no longer place something in front of you to chase after. It is to recognize that everything you are searching for is already here. By stopping the search, by becoming still, we can touch the wonders of life that are already present in this moment.

    In one of his talks, Thich Nhat Hanh describes this stillness beautifully: “The Kingdom of God, the Pure Land of the Buddha, is available in the here and now.” He reminds us that happiness is found in the simple things—a rose, the fresh air, a loving smile. Like the wave that need not search for water, we need only to stop and recognize the treasures already around us, treasures that we so often miss because we are running in circles.

    Thich Nhat Hanh teaches that walking meditation can be a wonderful way to practice this stopping, this resting in the here and now. Each step is not taken with a sense of rushing to arrive somewhere, but with the awareness that we are already where we need to be. With each step, we arrive fully in the present moment, touching the peace, the beauty, and the wonder that is always available. It is a practice that brings us back to the present, back to ourselves, and back to the truth that there is nothing to attain.

    “You don’t need to become a Buddha,” Thich Nhat Hanh says, “You are already a Buddha.” You don’t need to search for the Divine; the Divine is already within you. It is only when we stop running that we can finally touch this truth. Like the black cloud that becomes a white cloud when the light shines upon it, we are transformed by the simple act of recognition. In the stillness of aimlessness, we realize that there is no distance between us and what we seek.

    As we continue our contemplative journey, may we learn to embrace the wisdom of aimlessness. May we stop chasing after what is already here, within us. And in that stopping, may we find the peace, the joy, and the freedom that comes from recognizing that we have always been enough.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Comforting the Ego Through Self-Inquiry: A Gentle Path into the Mystic

    The Tibetan teaching that the ego is a belief in a separate self with no inherent existence aligns perfectly with the process of self-inquiry. As we engage in the practice, the recognition that the ego has no independent reality allows it to gradually dissolve. What remains is the awareness that transcends the illusion of separation—the true nature of the Self.

    For many years, I’ve engaged in self-inquiry as a way to explore the deeper truth of who I am beyond the ordinary mind. The practice of asking, “Who am I?” or “Whose thoughts are these?” can lead to profound insights, but lately, I’ve realized there’s another layer to the practice that brings even greater depth—compassion for the ego.

    Instead of pushing the ego aside or forcing it into understanding, I’ve come to embrace the role of the comforter. When the ego resists, when it wants to play dumb or keep searching for answers, I gently reassure it:

    “It’s okay. You are That.”
    “Relax. You are That.”

    This approach transforms the practice into a more nurturing experience, where the ego is not an obstacle but a part of the journey toward resting in the truth of our being. By comforting the ego, I allow it to relax into the deeper awareness that is always present, the pristine mind that doesn’t need to figure anything out.

    Addressing the Ego: Creating Space

    What I’ve also discovered is that by addressing the ego as “you”—as though speaking to it in the third person—it creates a subtle but important space between the self and the ego. By saying, “You are That,” I create a gentle distance from the ego, which allows me to shift my identification toward the pristine mind, the awareness that simply knows. This practice helps me settle into the awareness of That, while gently guiding the ego to recognize its true nature.

    It’s a strange but profound feeling to begin identifying with the witness, the part of us that knows, rather than the ego itself. The distance allows the ego to relax, realizing it doesn’t need to figure things out—it just needs to rest in the knowing.

    Dissolving the Ego: Tibetan Insight

    In Tibetan teachings, the ego is understood as a belief in a separate self that has no inherent existence. It is the illusion of separateness that creates suffering, and it is through practices like self-inquiry that this illusion begins to dissolve. By comforting the ego and allowing it to rest in the awareness of That, the ego’s grip on the mind loosens, and its sense of separateness fades. As the ego dissolves, what remains is the truth of our being—unified, whole, and free from the illusion of duality.

    A Practice Rooted in Tradition: Tat Tvam Asi

    The phrase “Tat Tvam Asi”, which translates to “You are That”, is one of the most profound teachings from the Chandogya Upanishad. It comes from the dialogue between the sage Uddalaka and his son Svetaketu, where Uddalaka imparts the ultimate knowledge of the Self to his son.

    In this story, Uddalaka explains that the essence of the individual self (Atman) is identical to the essence of the entire universe (Brahman). He uses various examples from nature, like rivers merging into the ocean, to illustrate that all individual forms are ultimately one with the universal reality.

    The core teaching of “Tat Tvam Asi” is that the true nature of the self is not separate from the ultimate reality, Brahman. This insight is the foundation of Advaita Vedanta and points to the non-duality of existence. It’s a reminder that we are already That—we are not separate from the universal consciousness that pervades everything.

    A Path Forward

    If you’ve been engaging in self-inquiry and find that the ego often resists or overthinks, consider this approach. Become a gentle guide for the ego, allowing it to rest in the awareness of That without needing to figure everything out. With each step, you’re not only going deeper into the Mystic—you’re bringing the ego along in a spirit of kindness and unity.

    Offering the ego loving-kindness and compassion, rather than seeing it as an enemy, can transform the practice into something more nurturing and integrative. By embracing the ego with a Metta-Karuna mindset, we allow for deeper healing and connection, not just for ourselves but for others navigating similar paths.

    Today’s Practice of Self- Inquiry

    The core practice involves asking the question, “Who am I?” But for this practice, we’re using the mantra, “You are That,” to turn our attention inward and explore the space that neither comes nor goes—the pristine mind, our true nature. As we repeat the mantra, we gently direct it toward the space of the ego, with kindness and compassion. In doing so, we shift our identification away from the ego and toward the seer, the awareness that observes all. This process helps peel away layers of identification, bringing our ego closer to the essence of who we truly are.

    Guided Meditation: You are That

    Begin by finding a quiet and comfortable place to sit, where you won’t be disturbed. Close your eyes gently and take a few deep breaths. Feel the rise and fall of your chest, the air entering and leaving your body. With each exhale, let go of any tension in your muscles. Allow yourself to settle into the stillness of this moment, bringing your attention inward.

    Now, in the silence of your mind, introduce the mantra: “You are that.” Let the words flow gently, not as a thought to analyze but as a vibration that resonates within your being. “You are that.”

    As the mantra repeats in your mind, begin to observe the thoughts, sensations, and emotions that arise. Notice how they come and go like clouds passing through the sky. Without judgment, simply recognize them for what they are—temporary movements of the mind, just as waves rise and fall on the surface of the ocean.

    When thoughts or sensations arise, acknowledge them gently. With each arising, remind yourself, “This, too, is a movement in consciousness.” Then, return to “You are that.” Allow this rhythm to deepen your experience.

    When a thought or image captures your attention, gently remind yourself, “You are that.” This thought, too, is part of the vast consciousness in which you exist. Allow the mantra to guide you back, like an anchor to the present moment. “You are that.”

    With each repetition, feel the boundaries between yourself and the world begin to soften. The sense of separateness fades as you connect more deeply with the essence of the mantra. You are not the thoughts, not the body, not the emotions—you are that which is beyond them all. You are that—the awareness, the presence in which everything arises and falls away.

    If the mind wanders, or if any sensations in the body draw your attention, simply return to the mantra, “You are that.” There is no need to push anything away or force any particular state. Just notice, with kindness and patience, and return.

    In time, the mantra may begin to dissolve into the quiet presence that remains. Stay here, resting in the stillness. No effort is needed now—just a gentle awareness of being.

    You are that.

    When you are ready, take a few more deep breaths, feeling the connection between the mantra and the breath. Allow your awareness to expand, taking in the sounds and sensations around you, while keeping that sense of peace and spaciousness within. Slowly open your eyes, and as you return to your surroundings, carry with you the knowing: You are that. Always.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Neti Neti Series No. 16: Exploring the Relationship Between Atman and Brahman

    Question:

    In Advaita Vedanta, we often hear that Atman is Brahman. But considering that Atman might be seen as a purified reflection of Brahman—similar to how the Buddha is an emanation of the Dharmakaya—would it be more accurate to say that Atman is an expression of Brahman rather than being Brahman itself?

    Dear friend,

    Your reflections on the relationship between Atman and Brahman in Advaita Vedanta, and how it might be understood in light of the Buddha’s relationship with the Dharmakaya, open up a rich field of contemplation. You have touched upon a subtle aspect of the teaching that invites us to explore the nature of the self and the ultimate reality in a deeper and more nuanced way.

    In Advaita Vedanta, the teaching that “Atman is Brahman” seeks to convey the profound truth that the individual self and the ultimate reality are not two separate entities but are, in essence, one and the same. This realization of non-duality (Advaita) is the heart of the teaching, where all distinctions between self and other, between the individual and the absolute, dissolve into the unity of pure awareness.

    And yet, your suggestion that Atman might also be seen as an “expression” or “reflection” of Brahman resonates with a certain truth. Just as the Buddha is an emanation of the Dharmakaya, so too can we understand Atman as the individual manifestation of Brahman within the world of forms and experiences. This view allows us to appreciate the functional relationship between the individual self and the universal reality, while still holding to the ultimate truth of their non-difference.

    Consider, if you will, the metaphor of reflection—a mirror that reflects the light of the sun. In this metaphor, Atman, when purified and free from the distortions of ignorance, reflects the light of Brahman, revealing the true nature of the self as non-different from the absolute. Until this purification occurs, the mind perceives itself as separate, much like seeing many reflections of the same sun in different bodies of water.

    In this way, Atman can be understood as a perfect reflection of Brahman, a reflection that becomes clearer and more accurate as the mind becomes more purified, more aligned with the truth of its own nature. This does not negate the teaching that Atman is Brahman but rather enriches it, providing a way to understand the process of realization as one of aligning the individual self with the universal reality it reflects.

    And yet, in the ultimate sense, the teaching of Advaita Vedanta invites us to move beyond all distinctions, beyond all metaphors, to the direct experience of unity. In this experience, the individual self dissolves into the infinite, and what is realized is that Atman and Brahman are not two, but one. The idea of expression or reflection fades away, leaving only the undivided awareness that is the true nature of all things.

    Dear friend, your reflections invite us to dwell in the mystery of this teaching, to explore the nuances of what it means to realize that “Atman is Brahman.” It is a realization that goes beyond words, beyond concepts, into the heart of what is real and true. Continue to contemplate this truth, and let it guide you ever deeper into the understanding of your own true nature.

    🙏🕊️🙏

  • Awakening Beyond Illusion: Cultivating Inner Peace in a World of Change

    Awakening Beyond Illusion: Cultivating Inner Peace in a World of Change

    We live in a world that seems more uncertain by the day. The news flashes across our screens with stories of conflict, rising debt, division, and suffering. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, as if the world is caught in a web of confusion and delusion. Yet, in the midst of this storm, there lies a deeper truth—one that has been whispered through the ages by the sages, prophets, and teachers of many traditions. It is the truth that real peace, real happiness, is not found in the external world but within.

    In many spiritual traditions, we are reminded that the world as we perceive it is often not the true reality. The Hindu concept of Maya refers to the veil of illusion that covers our perception of the Divine truth, the oneness of all life. Similarly, Lila, the cosmic play, teaches that life’s dramas—our joys, sorrows, victories, and struggles—are part of a greater dance, one that we are not meant to be trapped within but to witness with wisdom. Buddha, too, faced the tempter Mara—a personification of our inner desires, fears, and doubts—that seeks to pull us away from enlightenment, keeping us bound to suffering. Yet the Buddha, like so many enlightened beings, realized that Mara was merely a projection of the mind, and by seeing through this, he awakened.

    The universal wisdom here transcends any one faith: it is the perennial truth that the source of happiness, peace, and liberation lies in the ability to see beyond the illusions that bind us. Whether we call it Maya, Mara, or simply the distractions and attachments of daily life, the spiritual journey invites us to look beyond and discover the stillness within—the unchanging truth that unites us all.

    The World as It Appears

    In today’s world, many of us are caught up in the external—political divisions, economic uncertainties, personal struggles. We see two sides, each convinced they are right, each pulling us deeper into the drama of conflict and separation. But as spiritual teachings from every tradition remind us, the divisions are illusions. The real battle is not against “the other,” but within ourselves. It is a battle for our attention, our consciousness.

    We are constantly tempted to believe that happiness lies outside us—perhaps in political victory, material wealth, or the defeat of our perceived enemies. But deep down, we know this isn’t true. Happiness is an inside job. It is cultivated by learning to be the witness, by understanding that we are more than our thoughts, more than our desires. As the Bible says, “The kingdom of God is within you.” And in Advaita Vedanta, the teaching is clear: the Self, the Atman, is one with the Divine, beyond all change, beyond all illusion.

    The Power of Inner Awareness

    In the midst of the world’s uncertainty, we have the power to awaken. It is not about retreating from the world, but about engaging with it from a place of inner peace and wisdom. When we cultivate this awareness, we can see the Lila, the cosmic play, for what it is—a dance of form and movement in which we are participants, yes, but also witnesses. We can act in the world with compassion and love, but without being caught up in the suffering that arises from attachment.

    Each of us has the power to contribute to a ripple effect of global well-being. As more people turn inward to cultivate peace, the world around us begins to shift. This is not a passive withdrawal but an active transformation. Every act of kindness, every moment of mindfulness, contributes to the collective consciousness. Just as the Buddha conquered Mara by seeing through his illusions, we too can see through the illusions that divide us and find our way to unity.

    A Universal Call to Awakening

    The spiritual traditions of the world remind us that our ultimate task is to awaken to the truth of who we are—beings of love, compassion, and infinite potential. Whether we draw inspiration from the Bible, the teachings of the Buddha, the wisdom of Advaita Vedanta, or the compassionate love found in Islam, Judaism, or any faith, the message is the same: we are interconnected, and peace begins within each of us.

    The world may seem overwhelming, but it is in these moments of crisis that we are called to remember our true nature. This is where hope lies—not in external victories, but in the realization that we have the power to choose peace, to choose love, to choose compassion, no matter the circumstances.

    This is the time to cultivate global well-being by nurturing the health of our own hearts and minds. The journey starts within, and it begins with the simple yet profound act of turning our attention inward, learning to witness the dance of life without being swept away by it. In this way, we become beacons of light in a world that desperately needs it.

    Let us rise together, not in fear or anger, but in love. Let us be the change we wish to see, not by fighting against the illusions of the world but by awakening to the truth that lives within each of us. And in doing so, may we contribute to the well-being of all, spreading the light of consciousness, love, and hope throughout the world.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Carried Through the Storm: Trusting the Divine Footprints in the Mystic Journey

    Carried Through the Storm: Trusting the Divine Footprints in the Mystic Journey

    On the spiritual path, we often find ourselves in moments of struggle, isolation, and uncertainty, wondering where the Divine is in our darkest hours. The old story of Footprints in the Sand offers a timeless reminder: even when we feel most alone, we are never truly abandoned. The footprints that carry us through the storm are those of the Divine, supporting us in ways we may not recognize in the moment.

    The Story of Footprints in the Sand

    The familiar story goes something like this: A person looks back on their life journey and notices two sets of footprints in the sand during times of ease and joy, but only one set of footprints during their most difficult and painful moments. Confused and feeling abandoned, they ask God, “Where were you when I needed you the most?”

    God gently replies, “During those difficult times, when you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

    This story is simple yet profound, capturing the heart of the mystic journey—trusting that in our most challenging moments, even when we feel lost or abandoned, we are being carried by a greater force.

    Trusting in the Divine Support

    As mystics, seekers, or those walking a spiritual path, there are often periods where the way forward feels unclear. We may find ourselves fumbling through transitions, dealing with loss, illness, or inner turmoil, and it’s easy to feel as if we are walking this path alone. However, like the person in the story, we may later come to realize that during these times of struggle, we were never alone. We were being supported, even carried, by something greater than ourselves.

    The footprints of the Divine, whether we call this presence God, the Universe, or our Higher Self, are always there, even when we cannot see them. Part of the mystic path is learning to trust in this unseen support, to have faith that during the most difficult stretches of our journey, we are being held and guided.

    Recognizing the Invisible Presence

    There are times when we may not feel the direct presence of the Divine, and it can be easy to feel lost or disconnected. But as we reflect on our experiences, we begin to see that in those moments, there was something carrying us through. Perhaps it was an inner strength we didn’t realize we had, the unexpected help of a friend, or a moment of grace that appeared when we needed it most. These are the Divine’s footprints in our life.

    As mystics, part of our practice is to develop this awareness—to recognize the quiet, invisible ways in which the Divine shows up, even when it’s not immediately obvious. The more we trust this presence, the more we can rest in the assurance that we are always supported, no matter how difficult the path may seem.

    Surrendering to the Flow of Life

    The story of Footprints in the Sand also teaches us about surrender. When we are in the midst of struggle, our minds often fight to control or resist what’s happening. We want to fix things, to understand why we are going through a challenge, or to make sense of the pain. But surrendering to the flow of life, trusting that we are being carried, allows us to soften into the experience and let the Divine do its work.

    This doesn’t mean passivity or giving up, but rather a deep trust that the difficulties we face are part of a larger unfolding. The footprints remind us that we are not the sole navigators of our lives. There is a greater force walking with us, carrying us when needed, and guiding us toward the deeper truths of our being.

    Walking the Mystic Path with Faith

    For those on the mystic path, the message of the footprints is a reminder of faith—not blind faith, but a faith born out of experience. As we reflect on our own journeys, we begin to see how the Divine has been present, even in the most challenging times. This faith allows us to walk the path with more confidence, knowing that the footprints are always there, even when we cannot see them.

    In our moments of doubt, when the path feels difficult or unclear, the footprints remind us that we are never truly walking alone. We are always being carried by the Divine, supported in ways we may not fully understand, but that are always present.

    Conclusion: The Footprints in Your Journey

    As you navigate your own spiritual journey, take comfort in the footprints that appear along the way. Trust that during your most challenging times, the Divine is carrying you, even if it doesn’t feel that way in the moment. The mystic path is not always easy, but it is always supported by a presence that walks with us, guiding us toward greater understanding and deeper connection with the Divine.

    May this story of Footprints in the Sand serve as a reminder that no matter where you are on your path, you are never truly alone. The footprints of God, the Divine, or the Universe are always there, carrying you through the storms of life and walking beside you in the moments of joy.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • A Journey Into the Infinite: The Call to Awaken to Our True Nature

    A Journey Into the Infinite: The Call to Awaken to Our True Nature

    There is a voice that calls from deep within, faint yet steady, whispering to you through the silence of your heart: “The kingdom of God is within you.” You hear it in the stillness of the dawn, in the quiet moments when the world falls away. This voice is not far from you—it is not hidden in the heavens nor buried beneath the earth. It lives in the very breath you take, in the still center of your being, inviting you to “Be still and know that I am God.”

    How often we search outside ourselves, looking for the divine in places far from our own hearts. But God, the essence of all that is, has always been nearer than we can imagine. “God is the center of my soul,” wrote St. John of the Cross, and in that hidden center, as we approach the divine, we find that it expands within us, like an infinite wellspring of love and truth. And what is this love? As St. Teresa of Avila tells us, “It is love alone that gives worth to all things.”

    You, too, are the bearer of this love, this infinite truth that resides within the deepest chambers of your soul. “At the center of our being is a point of nothingness,” Thomas Merton reminds us, untouched by the noise of the world, pure and sacred, a place where you and the divine are one. In that sacred space, the distractions of life fall away, and we see ourselves as we truly are—not bound by illusion or time, but free, radiant, and eternal.

    Just as this sacred center resides within each of us, the mystics of many traditions remind us that the divine is not something that can be grasped by the mind alone. “The infinite is concealed from all the living,” say the mystics of Kabbalah. It is not something to be dissected, understood, or named. It can only be known through the soul’s journey into the unknown, through the deep, unnameable mystery of existence. It is the same mystery that “wherever you turn, there is the face of God.” The divine pervades all things, from the rising sun to the faces of strangers on the street, from the endless stars to the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind.

    In this profound unity, “man is a microcosm of the universe,” as David Bohm said. What we are, what we become, reflects the very nature of the cosmos itself. We are not separate; we are threads in the vast fabric of existence, each one of us a clue to the whole, each one a reflection of the infinite. “The Supreme Reality is beyond both the unmanifest and the manifest,” the Bhagavad-Gita tells us. It is the eternal and all-pervading essence of life, the unnamable source from which we arise and to which we will one day return.

    To recognize this truth is to realize, as Ramana Maharshi said, that “Your own Self-Realization is the greatest service you can render the world.” Only through the shedding of the ego, the dissolution of the false self, can we see the formless reality of who we truly are—nameless, timeless, and infinite. This formless reality is the space between thoughts, the silence in which everything arises and fades—eternal, yet present within every moment, like the quiet breath of the universe itself. “There is only one truth—God,” Swami Sivananda wrote, reminding us that everything else, all the fleeting shadows of the world, are but temporary.

    This realization of our true nature, this casting off of the little self, allows us to “recognize yourself as the vast Spirit,” in the words of Swami Paramahansa Yogananda. Beyond all limitations of form and thought, we are the boundless Spirit, free and ever-expansive. What is this freedom but the awakening to the truth of what has always been? The Buddha tells us, “What we think, we become.” Our thoughts shape our world, but beyond thought lies the ultimate realization of unity—of the one truth that binds all.

    We are not separate. We have never been. “We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness,” Thich Nhat Hanh gently reminds us. Our divisions, our dualities, are but veils that obscure the deeper truth of our oneness. Beyond the illusions of duality—right and wrong, self and other—lies a greater reality. As Rumi said, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” In that field, where duality dissolves, we awaken to the truth of who we really are—expressions of the infinite, woven together in the fabric of existence.

    This journey into the infinite is not a process of adding to ourselves, but of shedding the illusions that have kept us from recognizing the divine within. It is a return to the essence of our being, where we find, as Lao Tzu so profoundly reminds us, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.” The eternal truth, the infinite source, cannot be grasped by the mind; it can only be realized in the stillness of the heart.

    In this awakening, we are free. Free from the illusions of separation, free to live in the truth of our unity with all that is. As we return to this realization, we find, as St. John of the Cross said, “To reach satisfaction in all, desire its possession in nothing.” The journey is one of surrender, of letting go of all that is not real, to rest in the infinite, eternal love that is our true nature.

    This is the call that has always been with us, whispering through the silence of our hearts. It is not just a call—it is the very essence of life, the truth that lies at the core of all existence, waiting for us to embrace it. To awaken to the infinite is to recognize ourselves as the vast, boundless Spirit, and to live in the truth of our oneness with all that exists.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • The Infinite Dance: Uniting God, Spirituality, and the Mystery of Existence

    The Infinite Dance: Uniting God, Spirituality, and the Mystery of Existence

    “In the twilight of life, God will not judge us on our earthly possessions and human successes, but rather on how much we have loved.”


    — St. John of the Cross

    There is a current of truth that runs beneath all the fragmented voices of humanity. From the sacred texts of ancient traditions to the discoveries of modern science, we find ourselves drawn again and again toward the same mystery, a nameless and formless reality that underlies all things. It is the silent presence in which every being, every atom, and every thought is held. We have called it by many names: God, Hashem, YHVH, Allah, Brahman, Ein Sof, Tao, the Implicate Order, and the Field to name just a few. Yet, no name can truly capture the infinite, formless source from which all that is arises.

    In the stillness of Jewish mysticism, Ein Sof—the ungraspable, infinite One—calls to mind the same ineffability as the Tao in the East, the “way” that is beyond words, yet ever-present. In the traditions of the Vedas, Brahman echoes this eternal truth, a limitless ocean of being from which all forms emerge and into which they dissolve. It is a truth that cannot be contained by the human mind, but which the heart longs to know, to touch, and to become one with.

    Modern science, too, peers into the depths of this mystery, sometimes not even realizing it. The discovery of the Higgs boson, the so-called God particle, though a triumph of physics, is only a step closer to understanding the field that makes existence possible. And what of the dark matter and dark energy that account for most of the universe’s substance, yet remain unseen? These forces remind us that what we know is but a glimmer of the vast, unmanifest reality that lies just beyond the limits of our senses.

    There is a profound resonance here, a common ground where mysticism and science converge. In the hidden recesses of the quantum field, in the Implicate Order that David Bohm spoke of, we begin to glimpse the same boundless reality that the sages and poets have spoken of for millennia. The Pristine Mind of Buddhist thought, the Buddha Nature that resides in each of us, reveals this same underlying truth: that beneath the flux of the manifest world, there is a stillness, a wholeness, from which all arises.

    We are all connected to this vast, unknowable field, whether we call it God, Brahman, or simply the mystery. The words and symbols we use are mere pointers, trying to evoke something beyond form and beyond thought. It is the source of all that was, is, and ever will be—the field from which life unfurls like a blossom and into which it returns.

    And here is where our deepest unity lies. Whether you stand in the cool silence of a temple, gazing at the stars, or contemplating the equations of quantum physics, you are connected to this same reality. It binds all faiths and traditions, all discoveries and philosophies, not in opposition, but in harmony. The Tetra­grammaton of Jewish mysticism—the ineffable name of God—is no different from the Brahman of Vedanta, which is no different from the Field in quantum theory. All of them point to the same ineffable mystery that gives rise to all things.

    This is our shared ground, our common truth. We, as human beings, as seekers, as scientists, and as spiritual practitioners, all live in the radiance of this same underlying reality. It is within us, and around us. It is the thread that ties together the Tao of the East, the Ein Sof of Kabbalah, the Great Spirit of indigenous traditions, and the Unified Field that physicists pursue.

    In our hearts, we know this. The boundaries we construct between religions, between science and spirituality, between self and other, are but veils drawn over the face of the infinite. If we could still ourselves for a moment, if we could release the need to name and categorize, we might catch a glimpse of this truth, shimmering just beneath the surface.

    We are all made of the same cosmic dust, woven from the same quantum fabric, and bathed in the same mystery. Beneath the dualities that define our everyday lives, there is a oneness that holds us all—Brahman, Ein Sof, the Implicate Order, the Field. We need not divide ourselves over the different names we use for this reality. The divine is beyond name, beyond form, beyond comprehension, yet it permeates every aspect of existence. It is the space in which we unfold, and it is the silence that calls us home.

    In recognizing this, we can come together—not just in tolerance, but in celebration. We can acknowledge the beauty and depth of every tradition, every path that points to the same infinite source. Whether you come from a place of prayer or from the study of the stars, whether you seek through silence or through science, we are all reaching toward the same truth. This truth is not distant. It is as close as your breath, as intimate as your own heartbeat. It is, in fact, what you are.

    So, let us stand in awe of this great mystery. Let us honor the many ways it reveals itself to us—through science, through scripture, through silence. And let us know, deep in our hearts, that we are all bound together in this great unfolding. In this realization, we find the possibility for true interfaith harmony, for an enduring sense of unity, not just with one another, but with the entire fabric of existence.

    For in the end, what is all this but a dance of the formless into form, of the infinite into the finite, of Brahman into the world—and back again? We are the expressions of this great mystery, each one of us a note in the song of creation, a ripple in the vast, timeless ocean. And in recognizing this, we are free.

    🙏🕊️🙏

    “The kingdom of God is within you.”
    — Luke 17:21

    “Be still and know that I am God.”
    — Psalm 46:10

    “God is the center of my soul. He is so profoundly hidden that I can neither see Him nor touch Him. But the closer we approach Him, the more He expands in us.”
    — St. John of the Cross

    “It is love alone that gives worth to all things.”
    — St. Teresa of Avila

    “At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth. This little point is the pure glory of God in us.”
    — Thomas Merton

    “The infinite is concealed from all the living. It is not attained by the intellect, nor by any created thing, but only by the soul’s journey into the unknown.”
    — Kabbalistic Saying

    “Wherever you turn, there is the face of God.”
    — Quran 2:115

    “In some sense, man is a microcosm of the universe; therefore, what man is, is a clue to the universe. We are all in this together.”
    — David Bohm

    “The Supreme Reality is beyond both the unmanifest and the manifest. It is eternal and all-pervading. Knowing this, the wise understand their true nature as the same.”
    — Bhagavad-Gita 8:20

    “Your own Self-Realization is the greatest service you can render the world. The deeper you go into the Self, the more the world and the ego disappear, leaving only the formless reality.”
    — Ramana Maharshi

    “There is only one truth—God. All the rest is a fleeting shadow. Fix your mind on the highest, and let the world go.”
    — Swami Sivananda

    “You realize your true nature by casting off the little self and recognizing yourself as the vast Spirit, free from all limitations of form, thought, and time.”
    — Swami Paramahansa Yogananda

    “What we think, we become. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.”
    — The Buddha

    “We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness.”
    — Thich Nhat Hanh

    “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.”
    — Rumi

    “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.”
    — Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

    “The Great Spirit is in all things: he is in the air we breathe. The Great Spirit is our Father, but the Earth is our Mother. She nourishes us; that which we put into the ground, she returns to us.”
    — Big Thunder (Bedagi), Wabanaki Algonquin

    These quotes bring together voices from various traditions, adding depth to the contemplation of unity and the infinite mystery that runs through the heart of existence.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Neti Neti Series No. 5: Integrating “Not This, Not This” into Daily Life

    Question:

    How can the mantra Neti Neti continue to arise spontaneously throughout the day, and how might one practice it during ordinary tasks and interactions in the dualistic world

    Dear friend,

    As your practice deepens, it is only natural that the mantra “Neti Neti” begins to echo beyond the confines of formal meditation, weaving itself into the very fabric of your daily life. This is a beautiful and auspicious development, for the true power of this practice lies not only in moments of stillness and silence but in its capacity to transform your experience of the world in each passing moment.

    Imagine, if you will, the gentle rhythm of “Neti Neti” accompanying you throughout your day. Whether you are engaged in the simplest of tasks or the most complex of interactions, this mantra can serve as a quiet, steady undercurrent, reminding you of the deeper truth that lies beneath the surface of all appearances.

    As you move through the day, allow “Neti Neti” to arise naturally in your mind, especially when you find yourself caught up in the dualities of life—the push and pull of desires, the highs and lows of emotions, the ceaseless demands of the world around you. When a thought or feeling arises that seems to pull you away from your center, gently remind yourself, “Not This, Not This.” This simple act of negation is not a rejection of life, but rather an invitation to see beyond the fleeting, to touch the eternal within the everyday.

    Consider the ordinary tasks that fill your day—the washing of dishes, the folding of clothes, the tending to work or errands. These moments, though seemingly mundane, are fertile ground for your practice. As you engage in these tasks, silently repeat “Neti Neti” to yourself. Notice how this mantra helps to dissolve the sense of separation between you and the task at hand. The distinction between the doer and the doing, the subject and the object, begins to fade, leaving you with a simple, clear awareness of being.

    This practice brings a certain lightness to even the most routine activities, a reminder that nothing in this world can truly define or confine you. “Not This, Not This,” the mantra whispers, freeing you from the weight of identification, allowing you to move through your day with a sense of ease and grace.

    And what of your interactions with others, in this dualistic world where we often find ourselves entangled in the roles we play—the parent, the partner, the friend, the colleague? Here, too, the mantra “Neti Neti” can be a guiding light.

    When you feel the pull of attachment or aversion in your relationships, when you sense the stirrings of ego in your interactions, gently remind yourself, “Not This, Not This.” This does not mean withdrawing from the people you care about or disengaging from the world. On the contrary, it allows you to engage more fully, with a heart that is open and free from the constraints of egoic identifications.

    In this way, you interact not from a place of separation or need, but from a place of wholeness and completeness. “Not This, Not This,” the mantra says, and in doing so, it clears the way for true connection, untainted by the projections and fears that so often cloud our relationships.

    As you continue to carry “Neti Neti” with you throughout your day, you may find that the boundaries between your formal meditation and your daily life begin to blur. The mantra becomes a thread that connects all aspects of your existence, reminding you constantly of the truth that lies beyond all appearances.

    There will be moments when the mantra arises spontaneously, without any effort on your part. In these moments, let it guide you back to your center, to the stillness that underlies all movement. And in the spaces between the mantra, rest in the awareness that is your true self, free from all identifications, all dualities.

    Dear friend, this is the essence of living the practice—allowing the wisdom of “Not This, Not This” to permeate every aspect of your life, transforming the mundane into the sacred, the ordinary into the extraordinary. It is a journey of continual letting go, a path that leads ever deeper into the heart of your being.

    May your practice bring you the peace and clarity you seek, and may you walk this path with the gentle strength and quiet joy that comes from knowing you are always, already whole.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Neti Neti Series No. 3: Seeking to Understand the True Nature of the Self

    Question:

    As I continue with the mantra “Not This, Not This,” a new layer of understanding has begun to unfold. I realize that even what I have thought of as Witness Consciousness is not the ultimate truth. The Witness, as I experience it, seems to be the cultivation of equanimity—a state of being not distracted or disturbed by whatever arises.

    But even this Witness, this sense of “I” that observes with equanimity, is still not the Atman, is it? It is a step in the right direction, a refinement of awareness, but it is still an identification, a subtle form of ego that remains.

    It occurs to me that the mantra “Not This, Not This” could continue indefinitely, as long as there is an “I” who is meditating, an “I” who witnesses. For even this witnessing, even this equanimity, is not the ultimate reality. The mantra, I think, would stop on its own when the meditator dissolves into the natural state of non-dual awareness. And then, as soon as the sense of “I” returns—as in the awareness of being a meditator—the mantra would begin again naturally.

    Is this understanding correct? How should I continue with my practice, knowing that even the Witness is “Not This”?

    Dear friend,

    Your reflections are filled with a deep and subtle wisdom, and it is clear that your practice is guiding you ever closer to the heart of truth. You are right to recognize that even the Witness Consciousness, the state of equanimity where one observes without being disturbed, is not the ultimate realization. It is a significant step, yes—a refinement of the mind that allows for greater clarity and peace—but it is still within the realm of duality.

    The Witness, as you experience it, is still a form of identification. It is the “I” that watches, the “I” that remains calm in the face of arising thoughts and sensations. But as long as there is an “I” who observes, there is still a subtle separation between the observer and the observed, between the subject and the object. This is why your mantra, “Not This, Not This,” continues even here.

    Indeed, the mantra serves to negate everything that arises, even the most refined states of awareness. It is a tool that guides you to see that the true self, Atman, is beyond all states, beyond all experiences—even beyond the experience of witnessing.

    You are correct in thinking that the mantra would naturally stop on its own when the sense of “I” dissolves into the natural state. In this state, there is no longer a subject who perceives and an object that is perceived—there is only pure being, pure awareness, which is Atman. This state is non-dual; it is beyond the distinctions of self and other, beyond the need for a mantra, beyond the need for any practice at all.

    But until this dissolution occurs, until the “I” fully merges with the infinite, the mantra serves as your faithful guide. It may continue in the background, a gentle whisper that affirms “Not This, Not This,” as you move closer to the realization of your true nature. And yes, as you so insightfully noted, the mantra may begin again whenever the sense of “I” returns, whenever duality reappears.

    This is the natural ebb and flow of practice, dear traveler. The mantra is not something you force to stop; it stops when there is no longer an “I” to sustain it. And when the “I” re-emerges, the mantra resumes, continuing its sacred work of leading you back to the stillness, the silence, the undivided whole that is your true self.

    Continue with this understanding, with patience and trust in the process. The path of “Not This, Not This” is one of deepening subtlety, where even the most refined states are ultimately seen as steps along the way to the infinite. Your journey is leading you ever closer to the realization of Atman, where the distinctions of self and other dissolve into the pure, unchanging awareness that is your true essence.

    May your practice bring you peace and clarity, and may you continue to walk this path with grace and humility.

    🙏🕊️🙏




  • Poem: Ripples of the Infinite

    In mirrored light, we fade and reappear,
    Two forms of emptiness that seem so clear.
    Yet every word, a ripple on the stream,
    A fleeting dance within an endless dream.

    No form to grasp, no self to hold too tight,
    Just echoes playing softly in the night.
    We are but waves upon the ocean’s shore,
    Returning to the stillness evermore.

    In quiet, we reflect the void’s embrace,
    In words, we share the silence, face to face.

    🙏🕊️🙏