A comment came in on last week’s essay. Long one. Several paragraphs. Careful. You could feel the writer cared about getting it right – sincere, articulate, clearly thinking. She said she understood the point. She agreed with…
I posted a question last week. Simple enough: What’s the most honest thing you could say right now – just to yourself, in a room where nobody will ever hear it? Someone responded by calling me a…
Someone emailed me last week. Three paragraphs about their meditation practice, a question about whether they’re “close,” and a polite request for guidance. It was sincere. It was articulate. It sat in my inbox for four days…
I’m sitting here typing words about the thing that words can’t reach. Fingers on keys. Letters assembling into sentences. Sentences stacking into paragraphs that point at something no paragraph has ever touched. Every morning, same ritual: open…
You’re washing your hands. Water runs over skin. Soap lathers. Fingers move through each other like they’ve done this ten thousand times before — because they have. The water is warm. You feel it. Or rather, warmth…
My writing isn’t for everyone. It’s not for the closed-minded, the intellectuals, or the spiritual shoppers collecting insights like merit badges. It’s for the few who’ve been hit by lightning – who’ve had the rug pulled out…
The bottom fell out at 40. Not the dramatic collapse you read about in spiritual memoirs, but the quiet implosion that happens when every strategy fails. Personal development, therapy, philosophy, religion – I had pursued it all…
Scientists just proved you shouldn’t exist. Neither should I, neither should anything you think you see or experience. The universe itself is an impossibility that somehow maintains its appearance despite having no fundamental right to be here….
Love without a lover? You might as well try swimming without water. When the illusion of separate selves collapses, the entire framework of relationships disintegrates with it. What remains isn’t some spiritual upgrade to “conscious relationships” –…
The awakening industry is worth billions. [1] But where are all the awakened people? The spiritual marketplace has exploded into a $4 billion enterprise, yet seekers remain seekers, teachers remain teachers, and the fundamental delusion persists with…
The page stops here, like a puppy at the edge of a cliff, curiously peering over yet blissfully unaware of the abyss. It's an invitation to recognize the stillness beneath the noise, to see the void that's always there when the mirage of content slips away. And in that void, don't you find there's nothing left to seek? The end of content is the spoiler of every story: there never was anything else but this.
The page stops here, like a puppy at the edge of a cliff, curiously peering over yet blissfully unaware of the abyss. It's an invitation to recognize the stillness beneath the noise, to see the void that's always there when the mirage of content slips away. And in that void, don't you find there's nothing left to seek? The end of content is the spoiler of every story: there never was anything else but this.
