I realized, at what I consider the early age of 57, that I had spent too much of my life relying on external things to find happiness. The weather. The location. What was happening in my love life. My career path. How I felt about my looks. How I felt about my body. My self esteem was delicate, and it could be damaged quickly when any of those things felt out of alignment.
I never had enough money. I was never good looking enough. I was never praised enough. I was never fast enough. I was never rich enough. Whatever the subject was, there always seemed to be some sense of dissatisfaction running underneath my life.
That dissatisfaction became the fuel. It was the thing that got me out of bed in the morning. I did not realize how much of my drive was coming from discomfort, insecurity, and the feeling that something was always missing.
Then I got tired.
I began to realize how much energy I was wasting. I was living unconsciously, trying to find some precious sense of agency, but I did not really understand presence of mind. I had heard the language before. I had read Eastern philosophy. I had listened to self help gurus talk about awakening. But I did not feel any of it in my own body because I was not practicing properly.
It was that black and white.
I had ideas. I had philosophies. I had language. But I was not doing the practice deeply enough. The practice did not really come into light for me until around age 50. And I believe strongly that it came into light because I was finally meditating with seriousness after years of struggling to maintain a relationship with it.
Then I realized that the struggle itself was part of the process.
For many years, many of us will struggle with the idea of relaxing the mind, going inside quietly, nourishing the body with better breathing, and flooding the mind with more positive, constructive thinking. We resist it. We avoid it. We make the choice not to do it, but often the choice is unconscious. Many people do not even know that this practice is available to them. They have not been taught. They have not witnessed its power.
Those of us who are fortunate enough to get a glimpse of it, understand it, practice it, and experience the benefits have a responsibility to share it humbly. We have to teach it with respect. We should not corrupt it, overcharge for it, turn it into a performance, or use it to enrich ourselves in the way fake healers often do.
Avoid teachers who take from you in that way. They usually make themselves obvious if you pay attention.
You are your own teacher. You are the guru of you.
You will have friends along the way who are also teaching themselves and sharing messages of compassion. Some of them may shine a useful light. Some may say the right thing at the right time. Some may help you remember what matters. But they are not you, and they cannot liberate you.
They can only point.
You still have to breathe. You still have to practice. You still have to sit with your own mind. You still have to notice your own patterns. You still have to return to your own body and your own life. And if you become someone who teaches self help, you have to be very careful not to inflate yourself. You have to be careful not to get lost in the power trip of being admired.
Part of the training of becoming a good teacher is learning how to disconnect from praise, worship, and fanaticism when it comes toward you. That kind of attention is not harmless. It can distract the student, and it can corrupt the teacher.
The fanatic loses themselves in worship. The teacher loses themselves in reflection. Both move away from the real work.
The real work is quieter than that. It is breath. It is honesty. It is practice. It is humility. It is returning to the present moment without needing to turn yourself into a god or turn someone else into one.