The whirling dervishes, the tabla and sitar player, the Shaolin monk, the samurai, the geisha, the bonsai master, the ancient sword maker—each of them, in their mastery, dissolves into the moment of their task. In this dissolution, the sound of breath and the awareness of impermanence illuminate the vast and mysterious sky of the mind. The mind is a cosmos, and the ego merely a tiny star system within an endless expanse.
Advanced meditation arises only through the purification of the physical body, the perfection of mindful breath, and the cessation of uncontrollable thought. The mind—like a coal furnace?—must rest before it can become clear. One cannot reach this state if the temple of the self is clouded by fear, guilt, resentment, self-centeredness, violence, decadence, or distraction. Before transcendence, one must first lighten the burden of these weights through steady meditation and deep, internal recovery.
The heart must soften. This is beyond love, beyond compassion, beyond any comparison of “this” and “that.” Advanced meditation is not an achievement—it is a merger with nature, an allowance to fully inhabit the human body.
To live purely is not to deny life’s fundamental needs. Quenching thirst is necessary. Satiating hunger is necessary. The drive for romance, for mating, for connection—let it be, for our species must continue. But amidst it all, one must return to presence.
Love your life. Live fully in the body. Seek the “now moment.” But do you truly understand what is meant by “now”? If you are reading this, can you pause, breathe, and absorb the fundamental chemistry of existence—oxygen? We are bathed in it.
If chemistry seems dull, then consider the Earth on a cosmic scale: so minuscule, it does not even register as a speck of dust within the Milky Way. And there are billions of Milky Ways. One day, consciousness itself may count the lifespan of the universe in a way we would recognize as just a single number beneath infinity.
To meditate deeply is to step beyond the illusion of control and surrender to the natural order of existence. In this surrender, one realizes that all struggle, all resistance, all grasping for permanence is futile—yet, in that realization, there is peace. The present moment is not something to attain or chase; it is the only thing that has ever been. To merge with it is not to abandon the world but to move within it effortlessly, without the weight of fear, regret, or ego. In this state, the mind ceases its constant grasping, the body aligns with its natural rhythm, and one experiences life not as a fragmented series of moments, but as a seamless flow.
In that flow, one sees the truth: everything passes, yet nothing is lost. The breath continues, the stars burn and fade, the universe expands and contracts, and consciousness observes it all. To be awake in this mystery, fully present in the fleeting moment, is the highest meditation. It is not something to conquer, nor is it something to achieve—it is something to become. In stillness, in presence, one touches eternity.