The Benefits of Meditation and the Illusion of the Seeker: Riding the Donkey You Are Already On

It is a funny thing we do, isn't it? We spend years looking for the donkey while we are already sitting on its back. This is the great paradox of the spiritual search. We are here, breathing and existing as the absolute, yet we convinced ourselves that we need a map to find the ground we are standing on. We talk about the benefits of meditation as if they were steps on a ladder, but where exactly do we think we are going? If the totality is truly total, it must include us right now, exactly as we are, in this very moment of distraction or focus. There is nowhere to go because there is no "there" that is separate from "here." When we sit in silence, something interesting happens to the body-mind. We might notice that the separate self feels a bit more relaxed. The blood vessels dilate, the muscles release their chronic grip, and the immune system finds a bit of breathing room. These are the practical benefits of meditation that make life more harmonious. It is like taking a medicine to feel better; if the head aches, we take a pill. If the mind is cluttered with useless thoughts about the future or the past, sitting still can help those thoughts prosciuugare—to dry up. But let's be frank with each other: does a relaxed body-mind make you any more "enlightened" than a stressed one? The screen remains the same regardless of whether the movie playing on it is a thriller or a peaceful landscape. We often get caught in the trap of thinking that we are practicing to "reach" a state of aware presence. But who is the one practicing? If there is no separate self at the core of this experience, then meditation is simply something that happens, like the rain or the wind. It is a natural expression of being. In some lives, meditation manifests; in others, it doesn't. Neither state is closer to the absolute than the other. To suggest that one must meditate to find the truth is like saying a wave must move in a certain way to become the ocean. The wave is already the ocean, whether it is crashing violently or shimmering in stillness. The separate self loves the idea of a journey. It loves the concept of progress, of moving from the simple to the complex, like learning to play the piano or solving differential equations. But the recognition of what we already are works in the opposite direction. It moves from the complex to the simple. It is the undoing of the complications we have built around ourselves. We often use language to hide rather than reveal, spinning webs of "I am this" or "I need that." When we stop, we might notice the silence that underlies the noise. This silence is not something we create through effort; it is the background that allows the noise to exist in the first place. Many seekers are tired of the spiritual chatter and the loud, guided apps that promise a destination. They sense that the "spiritual separate self" is just another mask for the separate self.