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Breaking free from the spell of waiting

Breaking free from the spell of waiting

by | May 29, 2025

“By waiting so long, you haven’t realized that you’ve let life pass you by. Not because of inertia, or lack of desire or enthusiasm, but because of a hope that stubbornly revolved around what was not yet. In the name of something more promising, more beautiful, more delicious, more elevated, more complete, more perfect, you ignored the only thing that never repeats itself: this moment. You wanted to become, forgetting that you already were. While you projected yourself toward an ideal version of yourself, life went on. It didn’t stop. It just stopped including you.
Frustration, then, is no accident. It is the predictable consequence of misplaced hope. You expected from the world, from others, from the future. But what could be given was already being given. Not beyond, but here. Not outside, but inside. It was not the world that denied you its promise; it was you who looked away.
Breaking this cycle cannot be achieved by accumulating willpower. It requires something else: a form of renunciation that is not resignation, but lucidity. It is not about repressing desire, or judging or condemning it, but about observing how it works. The desire that postpones life is often the one that prevents us from recognizing it. Wanting life to be different can be the most effective way of never seeing it as our own. What you are looking for is not further ahead, higher up, lower down, or at a distance. It is right where you least expect it: in what already is. But as long as you insist that something is missing, that there is a lack, you will lose even what is within your reach. Awakening is not about getting to another place or reaching another destination. It is about breaking free from the spell of waiting. It is about remembering, without embellishment, that you are already here and that what is essential is already with you, within you, as what you truly are. Nothing you have obtained belongs to you; everything you have accumulated, achieved, and attained will sooner or later be taken away. You came here with nothing, and you will leave with nothing. But while you are here, a decision must be made: will you continue to chase images of yourself, or will you stop and embrace who you already are?
Neither success will shape your being, nor will power guarantee any permanence. Even religion and spirituality, if they become a means of climbing or merit, can lead you even further astray. Fulfilment is not a trophy or a medal. It reveals itself, effortlessly, when the search ceases. Being is enough. Being—just that, without adjectives—is the only miracle. Life does not need to be attained or achieved. It is not postponed; it is simply waiting for you to stop. Because only those who truly stop begin to see. And those who stop projecting themselves forward discover, perhaps for the first time, that the sky also opens up inward, toward the interior. Do not fall into the opposite temptation now. Do not idealize despair. Do not confuse it with lucidity. It is merely the flip side of hope. Both feed off each other, sustain each other, demand each other. Two different ways of denying life as it is: without guarantees, without the need to become something else.
Breaking that pendulum movement does not mean giving up, but opening up. The middle ground is not mediocrity. It is the exact place where tension stops and transforms. There, in the silent center that neither pushes nor pulls back, something different emerges. It is not sought. It is not imposed. It sustains without showing off. They called it transcendence. But it is not a theory. It is a way of being.
Being without urgency. Without escape. Without postponement. That—and only that—is freedom. And if you are still waiting for something to motivate you, perhaps it is time to let go of that demand as well. There is nothing to wait for. And precisely because of that, everything can begin.
This life won’t be yours tomorrow. It won’t be yours when everything falls into place, when everything settles down. It is yours now. This moment will never be repeated. And if you’re not there to receive it, no one will live it for you.
So breathe, stop, let go. The essential has already happened: you are alive. And that is enough.”
Prabhuji
The religion to come

The religion to come

by | May 28, 2025

“There is no higher religion than a fully lived conscience. However, we remain surrounded by doctrinal systems, creeds, rites, ceremonies, and names that attempt to replace what can only spring from authentic inner transformation. Religiosity is not reduced to the repetition of scriptures, attendance at temples, or the recitation of formulas. In its most genuine form, it consists of a way of being in the world: touching reality with reverence, looking with discernment, loving with integrity.
Those who are truly religious are not defined by the tradition they profess or the text they recite. They are not Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Jain, Druze, or Buddhist. They are, in essence, devoted to truth, beauty, and love. Everything they touch is ennobled, not by supernatural powers, but because they have learned to see with respect. That gaze is their prayer; that attentive gesture, their form of consecration.
It is inconsistent to live in the emotional turmoil of a home marked by conflict and then expect to find, for one hour a week, the serenity of the sacred in a religious space. No one can dwell in anger, judgment, or violence for most of the day and then suddenly proclaim themselves at peace. The sacred cannot be improvised. Love cannot be represented. That which is not born of inner silence cannot be sustained.
Being religious is not adhering to a belief system, but embodying a way of being in which compassion flows without calculation, gratitude becomes a vital breath, and the search for God dissolves into its immediate recognition. Those who have attained this sensitivity perceive the divine in every manifestation of life: in trees, flowers, clouds, and stones; in the weary face of a stranger; in the eyes of an adversary; in the sleeping body of a partner; in the laughter of a child; or in the frailty of an elderly person. Wherever there is conscious life, there is a meaningful presence. What is truly sacred does not dwell in stone idols, but in ignored faces. It does not reside in repeated ritual gestures, but in the dignity with which those who have been excluded are treated. Those who do not recognize God in the poor, in the marginalized, or in foreigners have not yet understood what is divine. And those who do not glimpse that same presence in a woman have not understood what it means to venerate.
Until now, religion, like civilization, is still an unfulfilled promise or an untransformed form. However, that possibility remains open. We can choose to realize it. We can make our homes true temples, transforming kitchens, bedrooms, and streets into spaces of care, beauty, and respect. Even our simplest actions—the way we look, speak, and touch—can become daily offerings. The religion that is to come will not be just another doctrine. It will be a lucid way of living. It will not be directed toward the distant, but toward the present. It will not depend on authorities or structures, but on an awakened relationship with the immediate. It will have no name, no headquarters, no hierarchies. It will be silent as dawn, solid as tenderness, luminous as the truth that needs no defense. We must not wait for this transformation to come from outside. It begins within oneself. It is born when we choose to see the world with wonder, when we leave behind inherited gestures that no longer mean anything, when we listen with real attention, when we give without interest, when we forgive without being asked. Then, without the need for proclamations or dramatizations, true religion emerges: the one that is not taught, but embodied.
And if that fire begins to burn in you, it can ignite in others. Perhaps, for the first time, we can say without artifice that religion has happened. That the spirit has descended into the realm of the lived. That the divine has ceased to be an idea… and has begun to be life.”
Prabhuji
Are you enlightened?’

Are you enlightened?’

by | May 21, 2025

“Sometimes I am asked a question that, although understandable, rests on a fundamental misunderstanding: ‘Are you enlightened?’ or ‘Are you an enlightened person?’ The question presupposes that enlightenment is a state that can be possessed by a subject, like someone who obtains a merit or reaches a higher category. However, if we accept the term “enlightenment,” it should be understood not as a personal achievement, but as radical disillusionment. It is not an inner achievement that the “separate self” can display, but the collapse of the very idea of an “autonomous self” that must or can achieve something.
When someone declares themselves enlightened, they have not awakened: they have constructed a new fiction around their ideal image. It is the ego that utters the phrase “I have awakened,” but genuine awakening consists precisely in seeing that this “I” was an illusory structure, sustained by the habit of self-assertion and the fear of dissolution. At the moment of awakening—if such a moment is possible—the urgency to define oneself, to defend oneself, to validate oneself vanishes. What once seemed essential loses all weight, as when at dawn the contours of dreams dissolve and there is no longer any need to flee or hold on. It is not a matter of denying subjective experience or rejecting ordinary forms of identity. It is about understanding that suffering finds its most constant root in the assumption that there is an autonomous, fixed, and central self. Enlightenment, in this sense, is not an extraordinary experience, but a lucid perception of what has always been so. It does not burst in with fanfare. It arrives without an owner, without an argument, without affirmation.
When that structure falls, an idealized version of oneself does not emerge. The real appears, in its elemental nakedness. Air, light, and minimal gestures appear, without the need to attribute transcendent meaning to them. The one who has awakened is not the one who accumulates answers. It is the one who no longer needs to hide behind justifications. Language ceases to be a shield. It becomes seeing silence.
The question is not who has awakened, but how much illusion remains to be let go. To seek enlightenment as a form of exceptionality is to remain trapped in the logic of the self. Awakening, if it occurs, does not confer superiority. It frees one from the suffering that arises from identifying with an image that was never stable. No one awakens to become something different. One awakens to stop fearing what one is when one has stopped pretending.
Like bamboo, which does not know it is hollow, but allows the wind to pass through. Like the mountain, which does not know it is high, but transforms with its presence. So too, consciousness does not need to proclaim itself enlightened. It is enough that it stops casting a shadow.
Rūmī, in his luminous poetry, whispers it with the sweetness of one who has seen:
“Come out of yourself, as water comes out of a spring. What you seek, you already are.”
The essential is not in achieving something. Nothing needs to be added to what already is. There is no further state to which we must ascend. What we are does not need to be perfected: it only needs to be remembered. When the representation of a self that acts to assert itself ceases, there is no superior individual left. What remains is life, as it is: open, silent, irreducible.
And that, without embellishment, is enough.”
Prabhuji
Authenticity

Authenticity

by | May 21, 2025

“There is a moment—not always obvious, but decisive—when the compulsion to accumulate weakens and the need to understand imposes itself with silent force. The desire remains, but its orientation is transformed. It ceases to be driven by quantity and begins to seek direction. It no longer aspires to excess, but to truth. This vital inflection does not usually manifest itself with spectacular gestures or fireworks. It bursts into the ordinary: into the emptiness that follows a goal achieved, into the unease that follows a meaningless celebration, into the fatigue that cannot be explained by physical exertion alone. In this unscheduled interruption, a question arises that, although it has no definite form, demands an answer.
My friend, the search for meaning does not consist of avoiding suffering or idealizing joy. It implies, first and foremost, a willingness to listen. Listening not in the passive sense, but as an act of radical attention to that which has been buried by the demands of others, unconscious repetitions, and narratives that one has accepted without having chosen them. As Søren Kierkegaard points out, truth is not imposed from outside; it is appropriated through existential internalization. Authenticity, then, is not equivalent to arbitrary self-assertion. It is a form of responsibility to what has been clearly and lucidly recognized as true.
In a historical context marked by acceleration, simulation, and the imperative of visibility, choosing an authentic life is an act of resistance. It is not a matter of ideological opposition, but of silent fidelity to a truth that does not need to be justified. Rejecting prefabricated scripts requires the courage to declare, “This does not represent me.” But it also requires accepting, “This commits me, even if it makes me uncomfortable.” As Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” However, that why is not inherited: it must be discovered and chosen or elected. Meaning is not achieved like solving an equation. It is cultivated, as Zen master Dōgen observes, in the way one walks, eats, speaks, and works. It does not require heroic gestures. It dwells in consistency without witnesses, in words that do not betray, in silent decisions. In this mode of presence, time ceases to push forward. It begins to unfold as a livable space. Heidegger put it precisely: it is not a matter of occupying time, but of “dwelling” in it from being.
Authenticity is not about being right or obtaining external validation. It is about reconciling oneself with what one has become. It is not about belonging to all environments, but about finding a place where it is not necessary to pretend. Laozi teaches that “the wise man does not show off, and therefore shines; he does not justify himself, and therefore convinces.” Authenticity does not seek applause. It generates silence. And in a world saturated with noise, that silence is the unmistakable sign of a presence that does not need to impose itself.
Seeking meaning is not a luxury reserved for exceptional moments. It is a structural necessity of existence. Living authentically is not an occasional privilege. It is a constant demand. It requires decision, renunciation, and vigilance. And when you fail, start again. And when you lose your direction, stop. Sometimes, it is enough to stop running away from silence to begin to see. As Simone Weil said, “Attention, taken in its highest sense, is the purest form of generosity.”
And then, without artifice or effort, life begins to reflect soberly who one is. And in that discreet correspondence between being and living, time ceases to be a race. It becomes a dwelling place.”
Prabhuji
The meaning of life…

The meaning of life…

by | May 21, 2025

“Life is not an object; it is a process. It is not ”something” that can be possessed, nor is it a goal to be achieved. It does not present itself as a fixed point on the horizon of existence, nor as an achievement attainable through will or calculation. Life manifests itself in the flow of time, moment by moment, like a flower that opens without witnesses, like a sky that requires no interpretation. To try to capture it or take possession of it is to exclude oneself from its unfolding.
The meaning of life is not achieved through effort. Effort can refine the ego, discipline it, or make it more functional within a given normative framework. It can construct a more acceptable or effective image of the subject. But it does not lead to the essential. What transcends—whether conceived as fulfillment, consciousness, divinity, or revelation—is not conquered, not obtained: it is received. It only appears when the tension to achieve it ceases. It is not the result of will, but the effect of an opening.
From this perspective, the attitude promoted by the Zen tradition is based on suspending all internal compulsion. It is not a renunciation understood as resignation, but a lucid surrender to the present. It is not the renunciation of the defeated but the surrender of the lover. There is no need to ascend, overcome, improve or conquer. It is enough to simply be. The here and now, when inhabited without expectation, without projection or desire for change, are enough. Inhabiting the moment only requires observation. It is not about correcting or judging. Authentic observation does not produce judgments or classifications. It does not determine what is good or bad. Judging interrupts the gaze, turning experience into interpretation. Instead, the witness remains: contemplating without appropriation, without interference, without intention. Observing as the sky observes the clouds. This form of undirected attention—unattached to purpose, free of moralism—generates a silent clarity. From this lucidity arises an understanding that does not aspire to change the world, but to inhabit it. In this understanding, the ordinary reveals itself as truly extraordinary. Eating, walking, talking, drinking, breathing, or looking are not means to achieve something else: they are the place where totality unfolds. There is no other state to reach. What is presented, as it is, is enough. It is not necessary to transform oneself into something else. It is not necessary to reach a higher state. The subject, in its present form, is whole. There is no urgency. There is no demand. The desire to construct a complex spirituality through techniques and methods is nothing more than a form of evasion. The essential is not found elsewhere: it is already here.
Therefore, it is enough to stop. To breathe. And allow the door to open.
Because it has never been closed.”
Prabhuji