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A lonely journey…

A lonely journey…

by | Jun 10, 2025

“Institutionalized religions, considered from their historical formation, are founded on a misunderstanding that not only runs through them, but constitutes them from their very foundations. When confronted with mystery, the disciples were unable to sustain the tension of a quest that demanded solitude, silence, surrender, and radical exposure. Unable to inhabit that wilderness, they sought in the proximity of others the illusion of a certainty they could not yet find in their own experience. They confused closeness with clarity, group cohesion with a lucidity that can only be achieved individually. They clung to each other like blind people who, holding hands, imagine that contact can replace vision, clarity. From there, from that impulse to alleviate vertigo, arose the institutional machinery of the sacred: temples, doctrines, theologies, superstitions, beliefs, hierarchies, and authority. Not as the natural unfolding of a shared truth, but as protection against the impossible to define.
However, truth does not circulate through accumulation or contagion. It is not inherited, transferred, or sustained by numbers. Its appearance is always singular, unrepeatable, and belongs to the non-transferable realm of the inner self. It is not born of the relationship between disciples, but of the fire that each one, in the solitude of their presence before the master, decides to light—or not. For this reason, it is imprecise to speak of community or collectivity in this context. There is no established brotherhood among disciples, but merely a convergence. They are not linked horizontally, but share a direction. They advance separately, without proclamation, guided by a common light that is not shared, even though they all walk toward it. And if they cross paths on that journey, they do not hold back: they recognize each other, perhaps smile, and continue on their way. There is no bond that ties them together, no form that organizes them. What remains is a discreet, real resonance that does not fix identities or raise emblems. Only that deserves the name sacred. Everything else—systems, creeds, institutions, doctrines, hierarchies—is administration wrapped in fervor. It is only domination and control disguised as spirituality or religious enthusiasm.
The true disciple does not found organizations. He does not build structures, institute traditions, or leave schools or organizations. His last gesture is simply to disappear.”
Prabhuji
That inevitable loneliness…

That inevitable loneliness…

by | Jun 9, 2025

“Perhaps you share your life with someone: a space, a bed, habits that are part of your routine, gestures that mark the passing of the days. Perhaps you live with voices that call your name, with presences that surround you, with bonds that, through repetition, seem unbreakable. Perhaps you laugh with others, respond to messages, fulfill what is expected of you. And yet—and perhaps precisely because of this—you live alone. Not because you lack relationships, but because there is a radical impossibility for someone else to inhabit your being. Your uniqueness does not allow for occupation. That internal, irreducible space cannot be transferred or shared.
No one perceives the world from your point of view. No one experiences your exhaustion with your exact weight. No one thinks your thoughts with your cadence, your way of falling silent, your way of stopping. No one feels your heart and its emotions. You can live with someone for decades without ever knowing what dreams wake them up, what silences stop them in their tracks. You can love someone intensely and yet never reach the exact core where their pain takes shape. This is not a lack of affection, but a structure. Loneliness is not a dysfunction of the human condition: it is its core. We are not what we show. Nor are we what we express. We are that which resists all translation.
And yet we insist on denying the obvious. We equate closeness with understanding. We project onto others the fantasy that they are our shelter, our reflection, our company, our protection, our guarantee. We expect those who love us to intuit our needs, decipher our absences, interpret our silences, feel our feelings. We behave as if loving meant accessing a higher form of knowledge. But no such faculty exists.
What we call love is often a dance between two solitudes that, at their best, learn not to invade each other. Sometimes they meet, and other times they simply coincide. Accepting that we are strangers is not the same as giving up.
It is a form of clarity. Abandoning the illusion of being understood means giving up a childish expectation: that of being saved. No one is coming. And that realization is not tragic… it is liberating. As long as you wait for someone else to fill your voids, you will continue to deny that those voids are yours. That the loneliness that constitutes you is not a mistake: it is your true form… your most real outline.
You have tried to silence it. You have resorted to noise, acceleration, hedonism, compulsive attachments. Not out of desire, but out of fear. Not out of openness, but out of evasion. But that loneliness you call a burden is not a condemnation, it is a certainty. It is the beginning of every search that aspires not to lie to itself. Only when you stop running away from yourself can the true encounter begin.
We are inevitably strangers. It is not a matter of suppressing that distance, nor of forcing a union that denies it. It is about inhabiting the separation, recognizing it without drama. Offering it to the other without asking them to eliminate it. It is unreasonable to expect to be rescued from our loneliness. No one can do that, not even for themselves.
When this truth is no longer resisted, its texture changes. What once seemed like a burden becomes an opening.”
Prabhuji
The genuine spiritual life

The genuine spiritual life

by | May 22, 2025

“Spiritual life, when experienced authentically, constitutes an inner journey, silent and irreducible to external models. Every genuine search begins in the deepest recesses of the soul, where the voices of social approval and the murmur of established formulas cease. However, it is not uncommon for this original impulse toward inner transformation to be absorbed by the institutional dynamics of religious life in community. Far from fostering freedom of spirit, such environments often impose a normative structure, a codified morality, and a collective identity that dissolves uniqueness in the name of belonging.
The community can offer refuge, guidance, and comfort. But it can also become a system that, under benevolent appearances, stifles individual expression through the repetition of ritual gestures, the subordination of thought, and the suspension of self-judgment. In the name of the sacred, obedience is institutionalized, consciences are standardized, and any questioning that disturbs the tranquility of consensus is marginalized. Simone Weil warns that “thought is not easily welcomed where power reigns,” and power—even religious power—resists what it cannot control. Where authenticity is replaced by fidelity to a form, spiritual life vanishes as a living experience and is preserved only as protocol.
Those who enter a religious environment in search of inner guidance often find themselves subjected to a pedagogy that does not cultivate freedom but reinforces dependence. They are taught to venerate memorized formulas, not to discover the meaning that justifies them. They are required to have faith, but they are not offered a path to understanding. Love is invoked, while any form of thought that has not been previously legitimized is discouraged. In this context, the soul that tries to advance on its own is viewed with suspicion, and the contemplative impulse is replaced by the mechanical repetition of what has been prescribed. Far from being kindled, the inner flame is consumed under the weight of custom.
Not every form of shared life deserves to be discarded. But when the community demands the suspension of personal judgment as proof of virtue, what is formed is not a spiritual consciousness, but a subject functional to the logic of the group. Where rituals are valued more than inner transformation, one ends up revering an empty form, not a living presence. In the words of Kierkegaard:
“The crowd is the lie.”
(Diary, 1851), and it is precisely because it nullifies individual responsibility in the name of undifferentiated belonging.
True spiritual experience does not require external approval, uniformity, or regulatory validation. It can mature in anonymous retreat, in the silence of an ordinary life, or in the lucidity of a consciousness that dares to think without guidance. It does not impose external abstinence as a merit in itself, but demands constant vigilance of the inner world. It does not call for separation from the environment, but rather a transformed gaze that illuminates its meaning. It does not depend on the recognition of a group, but on fidelity to an inner voice that does not always coincide with the dominant voice.
Meister Eckhart expresses it with radical clarity:
“As long as the soul seeks outside itself, it will not find the truth. The truth is found only in the depths of the soul, where God dwells without image.”
This is not an anti-institutional experience, but a demand for ontological depth that cannot be administered collectively. Those who have known the truth at the center of their being understand that this experience cannot be organized, transmitted by decree, or administered as doctrine. It is revealed in the unrepeatable space of intimacy, in the thrill of lucidity, in the solitary decision to live according to what one has understood. And that fidelity, even if it is not celebrated by others, is enough.”
Prabhuji
Solitary thinking

Solitary thinking

by | May 22, 2025

“When the aspiration is to reach a wide audience, it is necessary to recognize that truth, in its entirety, does not lend itself easily to that end. Its structure demands to be stripped down, reduced, reformulated in terms that prioritize immediacy, emotion, or familiarity, to the point of diluting its original density. Where discourse abandons nuance, critical rigor, or reflective complexity, it tends to find a wider audience, albeit at the cost of a substantial loss of fidelity to its content.
Language aimed at the masses does not only demand expressive clarity; it often imposes a partial renunciation of meaning. Not because listeners lack intellectual capacity, but because the functioning of the masses does not replicate that of an individual consciousness.
Martin Heidegger says in “Time and Being, lecture 1962:
”Thinking that questions is solitary thinking. It cannot shout to be heard by everyone.”
The crowd does not ponder: it reacts. It does not examine fundamentals: it reproduces slogans. Against this backdrop, those who wish to please end up replacing thought with formulas that, under the guise of accessibility, conceal the trivialization of the essential. The wider the circle of recipients, the more the conceptual rigor of the message is compromised.
In contrast, those who choose to preserve the truth in its unmediated form—demanding, unstable, uncomfortable—must accept the conditions of selective discourse.
Truth offers no immediate comfort, flatters no inclinations, and does not accommodate pre-established expectations. It requires a disposition that cannot be improvised: time, sustained attention, and asceticism of judgment. For this reason, any discourse that aspires to be faithful to reality is offered only to those who have cultivated the patience and effort necessary to receive it without distortion.
Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa contra Gentiles I, chapter 4, says:
“Pauci sunt qui veritatem inquirunt.”
“Few are those who seek the truth.”
The dilemma is structural. One can choose the path of easy consensus, saying what many want to hear, or one can insist on the demands of thought, even knowing that few will persevere in listening. But if among those few there are those who have arrived without having been flattered or seduced, then there is a possibility that they are truly willing to understand. And that understanding, though rare, has no equivalent in immediate acclaim, because it is based on the authenticity of the message, not on its rhetorical usefulness.”
Prabhuji
Ideologies and “ism”s

Ideologies and “ism”s

by | May 21, 2025

“I do not accept ideologies, whatever ‘ism’ they may be and whatever they may be called, because any thought that is confined to a doctrinal system abdicates its most demanding task: to understand without distorting and to judge without resorting to automatic patterns. All ideology operates through a conceptual reductionism that impoverishes the complexity of reality. In its quest for coherence, it simplifies the multiple and eliminates what does not fit into its pre-existing categories. Isaiah Berlin observed that closed systems of ideas sacrifice the plurality of human values for the sake of artificial consistency, which limits the capacity for discernment and restricts open-mindedness.
This impoverishment is accompanied by a normative dogmatism that presents its principles as self-evident truths, thus closing off any possibility of critical review. Karl Popper argued that falsifiability is the criterion that distinguishes rational knowledge from dogma. Similarly, thought that renounces the possibility of being refuted ceases to be thought and becomes doctrine.
Ideology does not describe the world: it shapes it discursively to generate adherence. Its use of language responds to a strategic rather than a cognitive function. Confucius already warned in the Lún Yǔ:
“If names are not correct, language is not adequate; if language is not adequate, actions are not carried out.”
Semantic manipulation not only corrupts discourse, it also distorts the action that derives from it.
All ideology eliminates singularity in favor of categories that are functional to the collective narrative. No individual can be reduced to an identity assigned by their position in a narrative system. Emmanuel Levinas asserted that the other cannot be understood as part of a whole, since their otherness transcends any conceptual structure. A similar insight is found in the Dhammapada:
“No being is identical to another; each must walk their own path.”
By subordinating the individual to an abstraction, ideology erases their concrete uniqueness. Added to this is the inhibition of self-criticism. Every ideological “ism” contains mechanisms that neutralize internal examination and exclude dissent. Michel Foucault showed how regimes of truth are intertwined with structures of power that legitimize certain discourses and silence others. In such an environment, thought is not questioned: it is reproduced. Ideology is not born of the desire to understand, but of the will to influence. Its purpose is not knowledge, but effectiveness. This subordination of thought to extra-theatrical ends betrays its original vocation. Nagarjuna, from the Madhyamaka philosophy, warned that “wisdom is not directed at an object or a utility; its nature is the emptiness of clinging.” Thinking implies stripping oneself of all self-interested uses of knowledge.
I do not reject ideologies out of moral neutrality, but out of fidelity to a more demanding form of rationality. Philosophy begins where dogma ends, not because it offers greater certainties, but because it keeps questions open. Therefore, instead of adhering to closed systems, I cultivate a questioning attitude, conscious, as Socrates pointed out, that “I only know that I know nothing,” and convinced, with Zhuangzi, that “the wise man is not attached to any form, for all forms are transitory.”
Prabhuji