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“Meditation does not admit gradations, scales, or hierarchical categories. It is not a sequential process or a step-by-step ascent, as if climbing rungs on a linear ladder. Its unfolding does not respond to a quantifiable progression, since its essential core—enlightenment—cannot be measured. Its presence cannot be measured out: either it has been revealed, or it remains absent. Its quality is absolute, not relative. A single clear vision is enough to radically alter the structure of consciousness, just as a spark is enough to consume the night, or a drop can contain the form of the ocean. However, although enlightenment is not fragmented into degrees, it can mature over time. The initial light does not increase by accumulation, but it can spread, penetrate more delicately, reach areas of being not yet integrated. This expansion does not imply a transformation of the essence, but a deepening of its radiance. Like wine, whose substance remains constant but gains body, density, and harmony with age, consciousness also acquires texture, stability, and depth as the state of presence becomes more consolidated. The parallel is eloquent. Newly made wine is authentic. It is already wine. It does not need to prove anything to be legitimate. But wine that has been left to rest in silence, without alteration or haste, acquires an internal complexity that distinguishes it. Its aroma becomes more subtle, its impact more lasting, its presence more rounded. Nothing is added to it: everything has emerged from what it already was, but without interference. In the same way, meditation, once it has taken place, is complete in itself. It does not need to develop to be valid. However, when it is intertwined with everyday actions, when it penetrates language, perception, and breathing, it becomes more stable, more silent, more real. Not as a result of a voluntary action, but because the subject has learned not to obstruct it.
Time does not create it, but it can clarify its presence. Comparison and judgment are frequent obstacles on this path. Measuring experience, competing with others, or seeking inner recognition is tantamount to abandoning the very essence of the practice. To meditate is to be. To be with increasing simplicity.
Being with increasing totality. Everything else—understanding, stillness, discernment—arises unforced, like fruit ripening or rain falling: without calculation, without will to dominate, without haste.
Enlightenment is not cultivated by accumulation nor achieved by effort. It is allowed. It does not require perfection, it requires availability. Where the mind ceases its inertia, and where the heart stops searching, the essential unfolds naturally. What should concern us is not reaching a higher state, but learning to remain available. Because in the silence of that availability, truth finds space to reveal itself in fullness.”
Prabhuji
Nature is sufficient

Nature is sufficient

“There is no need to rush the process or anticipate its outcome. The essential is already within you. You are not incomplete: you are potential waiting to be realized, not a deficit to be corrected. The seed does not design the tree it will become. Its entire future morphology—leaves, flowers, fruits—is contained in its original architecture. It does not project: it allows the unfolding to happen. Likewise, human beings do not construct their destiny through individual will, but rather accompany a direction inherent in their most intimate structure. They do not need external intervention, but rather internal conditions that favor development: sustained attention, watchful silence, non-reactive receptivity. Organic growth does not obey commands or require instructions: it emerges from within if the environment allows it. Attempting to guide the process of individuation through closed doctrines or prescriptive rituals interferes with its flow. It introduces dissonance between what is implied and what is imposed. It fragments the continuity of becoming. Consciousness cannot expand if it is subjected to fixed forms. It is the ratio universalis—not private intention—that legitimately guides us. As the Stoics affirmed, the logos spermatikós structures from within, without violence.
Human beings are not born as finished, complete entities. They are an opening, an ontological orientation in progress. At their core lies a tendency that aspires to a mode of existence beyond the restrictions of the egoic nature. This transformation does not require inherited beliefs or imposed renunciations. It does not demand external regulations or institutional validation. It requires a willingness to let this internal dynamic act without interruption.
Any demand for guarantees prevents transition. If the seed needed certainty before breaking its shell, it would remain inert. If the bird avoided leaving the egg for fear of the unknown, it would remain motionless. Growth is incompatible with the search for absolute security. It requires exposure to risk, passage through uncertainty, renunciation of the known. Transformation implies vulnerability, but without it, no expansion is possible. Those who wait for infallible promises become paralyzed. The only authentic certainty is the possibility that dwells within you. To be realized, this potential requires deliberate openness and suspension of control.
ὁ δὲ θεὸς παιδὶ ἐοικώς, παίζων πεσσεύων· παιδὸς ἡ βασιληίη.
“God is like a child playing dice; sovereignty belongs to the child.”
(Heraclitus, fr. DK 52)
The divine does not act as the engineer of a predetermined order. It does not execute a plan or impose an external purpose. It behaves like a free player who creates without calculation. Heraclitus introduces here an image that destabilizes all metaphysics of predictability: the sacred operates without rigidity, through a structuring spontaneity that needs no justification.
Entering into this logic requires abandoning the pretense of mastery and assuming a lucid surrender. Remaining attached to the shell of personal convictions prevents flight. Freedom does not emerge from control, but from trust in an orientation vaster than the autonomous self.
Ἐγγὺς ἐστὶν ὁ λόγος, ὁν ἀνθρώποι διατελοῦσιν ἀγνοοῦντες.
“The Logos is near, but men continually ignore it.”
(Heraclitus, fr. DK 72)
Truth is neither distant nor inaccessible. It dwells in immediacy, but becomes indiscernible when proof is demanded, when prior certainty is desired. The accumulation of knowledge does not guarantee access. Openness, on the other hand, does make it possible. Only those who abandon resistance mature. Only those who yield to this silent dynamic attain a broader state of being.
No agonizing effort or compulsive asceticism is required. It is enough to allow that original structure to express itself without interference. Transformation does not come from voluntaristic imposition, but from lucid consent. It is not achieved through confrontation, but through availability. Nature is sufficient. Trust in it’s knowledge.
Prabhuji
This moment

This moment

“It begins as a whisper that does not come from outside.
At first, there is nothing spectacular or extraordinary. There are footsteps, breathing, a cup of tea, the wind brushing against your face, your back feeling the back of the chair. There is no sudden vision or fireworks. The morning is like any other. The body moves through the world like a fish in water: unaware of limits, never suspecting for a moment that what it seeks has always been and always will be here.
It is not a matter of searching or finding. Nor is it a matter of fleeing or escaping. The mistake is not in taking the wrong path, but in believing that somewhere the path ends. The real is not found in distance, nor is it revealed in accumulation. There is no accumulation that can hold what has never been separated.
A leaf falls without interrupting the silence. Thought moves, but without you moving with it.
Something begins to let go without needing to assert itself. There is no image to protect, no story to continue. A space begins to open up, not in the world, but in the gaze. Not toward something, but from everything.
Language is no longer enough; it proves insufficient. Categories slip away. What seemed solid becomes soft, without center, without outline. The boundaries between inside and outside, between the observer and the observed, between the thinker and the thought, dissolve. The moment expands. There is no time, no before, no after. Only that, breathing through you.
Then, effortlessly, without warning, without anyone provoking it, the knot dissolves. The horizon folds inward. The outside no longer demands conquest. The inside no longer demands defense. Everything that was two is recognized as one. Everything that was one dissolves into nothing. Everything that was nothing vibrates as totality.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם,
שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶּה.
“Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe,
who gave us life, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.”
And now, there is no word to define or contain it. Only a formless certainty, a stillness that does not oppose movement. A clarity that does not depend on the eyes. A presence that needs no affirmation.
There is no achievement, success, or triumph. There is no arrival. Only the impossible return to what has never left.
The breeze continues to move the trees.
You will realize that it is not you who has arrived because you have never left…”
Prabhuji

“I remember that gray afternoon in Haifa in 1996. The sky was overcast. The sunset was effortlessly making its way across the sky. I sat down, as I did every day, to meditate, without intention, without expectation, without any goal. There was no purpose behind the gesture, no hidden desire to achieve anything. I was just there, sitting, without needing to understand why. The silence was no different from other days. But this time something changed without changing. It was not caused by practice or sought with effort; it was natural. Nothing extraordinary happened. The body remained still. The world around me remained the same. Yet everything seemed more open, cleaner, as if things were weightless, without history, without a name.
It was not a revelation or a breakthrough. It was more like the fading of separation. The evaporation of all fractures or divisions. There was no longer a clear difference between the observer and the observed. No idea, image, or understanding arose. Just a formless sensation, a presence without origin, which seemed to have always been there. It did not come from anywhere. It was neither internal nor external. It simply was.
From that moment on, everything remained the same. And, at the same time, nothing was ever the same again.
What had previously seemed separate—the sky, the body, thought, the world—was no longer so. It was not a new unity, nor a total vision. It was rather the absence of all division. Things, people, and everything were as they always had been, but without the distance that named them.
I didn’t find anything new. I didn’t get or gain anything. I didn’t achieve anything. I just accessed what had always been there, without having been hidden. There was no longer a path to the real: the real, the true, the authentic was not elsewhere.
I learned to be without taking up space. To be without defining myself. To live in the moment without needing to capture it. The place no longer had a center. The self no longer had limits. Time did not disappear, but it no longer divided. Although the mind did not shut down, its weight was lightened.
It was not an achievement. It was not a prize or a success. It was the moment when every attempt, every effort was exhausted. When there was nothing left to hope for, when even silence had dissolved, only that remained: formless, wordless, undefined, without need for confirmation. Since then, everything happens there. Not in me, not because of me, not for me. Only in that which is neither born nor dies.
There is no path, technique, or method that leads to it. There is no key that unlocks it. There is no map that names it. All that remains is to sit, look, do nothing, observe. Don’t push, don’t resist. Don’t look for meaning. Just let life, when we don’t measure it, show itself as it is.
Nothing is missing. Nothing is superfluous. There is no destination, because there was never any distance. What we are is not at the end: it is always, permanently, even before the journey begins.
Prabhuji
Enlightenment

Enlightenment

“Enlightenment is the most essential thing in human life, not because it replaces the rest of experience, but because it gives meaning to every aspect of it. Awakening is not a rarity reserved for those who renounce the world, nor is it an experience confined to the extraordinary. It is a latent possibility in everyday actions, in the way we relate to each other, in the way we speak or remain silent. Although awakening is fundamental, not every word should revolve around it explicitly. Understanding does not advance through repetitive insistence, but through gradual integration. There are those who pursue truth in abstraction, forgetting that it is only in lived experience that truth manifests itself and is verified.
The Buddha did not restrict his teaching to meditation. He spoke of suffering, human relationships, food, language, behavior, and work. He understood that the dharma cannot remain isolated from the concrete realms of life. “I teach suffering and the end of suffering,” he declared. Understanding this cycle requires observing its appearance in the immediate present.
Nāgārjuna did not formulate emptiness to evade the world, but to show that nothing exists by itself. Everything depends on everything else. To see this interdependence is to understand that enlightenment does not occur apart from reality, but rather by recognizing that nothing is separate. To speak of time or language is also to walk the path.
Śāntideva taught that compassion cannot be separated from understanding emptiness. It is not about escaping the world, but about inhabiting it with a mind that does not cling. Enlightenment is not about withdrawing, but about transforming the intention from which one acts.
Dōgen affirmed that practice is itself enlightenment. Sweeping the floor, washing rice, or lighting a fire, if done with presence, are not minor acts. In Shōbōgenzō, he wrote: “The way is not in the other world; it is in this moment.” Body, speech, and posture were, for him, expressions of awakening.
Ramana Maharshi, when asked how to live without straying from the truth, replied: “Do whatever comes, but remain as the doer.” For him, it was not the type of action that mattered, but the root from which it was performed. Talking about family, work, or decisions does not imply distraction, as long as one does not forget who is acting.
This is what the wise recognized: enlightenment does not require the exclusion of any subject, because it is present in all of them. The mistake lies not in being concerned with the world, but in confusing oneself with it. Even when not referring directly to awakening, one can speak from its presence. If a word arises from attention and is oriented toward truth, it becomes practice. Living to awaken does not require reducing discourse to a single formulation. It requires remembering the essential while traversing the multiplicity of the concrete. Sometimes silence reveals the ultimate. Other times, a just gesture, a serene response, or a pause in the noise also express the same path.”
Prabhuji