Perhaps because of my former religious background, I’ve only very recently been curious enough to experience meditation — yet even with only a few years of periodic practice, I’m convinced my ignorance was inevitable. That’s because, by its nature, meditation’s meaning cannot be written.

I think everyone who uses it probably experiences something different. For me, it has been a pathway leading my confrontation with the truth, not that I have been a liar to anyone else.

My fears — as metaphorical as some may be — are likely common. Isolation, loneliness, death. I’m not surprised these are the things that drive my creativity, they are the most important aspects of my life now. But, I used to avoid them altogether as if packing fear away is the best way to deal with it; today these aspects are my companions.

I’ve heard some people say there is darkness in dwelling on the negative, but that’s a selfish commentary. It ignores the reality of living; it judges the awareness of death. I’d rather be alone with my thoughts than waste my time on opinions.

The aim of any practice of concentration and meditation is to free the aspirant from his usual way of thinking, feeling and being, so that he manages to become aware of himself in a manner which is totally different from the way he is normally.

This self-awareness, inaccessible to the seeker in his ordinary state of being, is closely linked with a very special inner presence which is liberating, transforming and therapeutic at the same time.