I grew up surrounded by a landscape full of dazzling rocks, mist and hollows, moss, and dense shrubs.
When I visited the desert of La Sierra de Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, I was moved by the its absolute, unyielding clarity.
A few rocks and holes were the only visible hiding places, and the flowers there were tiny compared to their large thorns.
It seemed as though the thorns had sprung up dry, reaching toward the sun, straight as the most steadfast of columns; they left no room for doubt.

In a world that hums with urgency – notifications pinging like overeager doorbells, deadlines marching toward us with military precision, headlines insisting the sky is falling – again, stillness can feel like a luxury item, the spiritual equivalent of a designer handbag. And who doesn’t love a designer handbag! 
But stillness is not the absence of movement, it is the presence of awareness. It is the quiet centre beneath the swirl, the steady ground beneath the sprint. We keep waiting for the world to quieten before we do, which is funny – because life rarely gets the memo.

Sometimes life brings experiences we never anticipated—experiences that challenge our assumptions, test our resilience, and invite us into a deeper relationship with ourselves.
Recently, I found myself facing a serious health challenge. What began as an unexpected diagnosis soon became a period of uncertainty, physical discomfort and repeated encounters with the unknown.

When I first heard this phrase, it felt like a mystery to me. Only later, through practising the Ishayas’ Ascension, I began to understand it  – not as an idea, but as a lived experience.
I started to notice subtle but profound changes in my life. Situations that would normally make me anxious or nervous began to feel different. Instead of bracing myself, I found I could simply be there… and even enjoy what was happening.

The present moment can feel like uncharted territory, especially when we are so used to engaging with – and identifying as – our thoughts. From here, there is little or no recognition that we have a choice to experience life differently, or that there is something different to choose, let alone a mystery to embrace, to experience, to live.

At the beginning of my story, I saw myself as a positive and spiritual person who valued harmony and the good things in life. However, my education had not prepared me to earn a living, and I felt I had been dealt a raw hand. I was depressed, burdened with a student loan and facing the prospect of 30 years of hard work to repay it. I blamed the school for my situation.

We can create so many fascinating hypothetical stories in our minds about what surrender means in world history and in our own lives. However, true surrender came into my life in a different way, unexpectedly, leading me to experience a perpetually unshakeable peace that anchors me in this wonderful present.

A great sage once said, “If every morning for the rest of your life you say, ‘Today I will be more gentle than I was yesterday,’ you will never become too gentle.”
I love those words! You see, gentleness is one of my favourite words. It stirs something pure and innocent deep within me.

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “What you focus on grows,” right? Well, through these techniques, a gateway to wellbeing opens wide. The practice of focusing your attention never ends. On the contrary, it becomes more refined, more subtle, more harmonious and lighter. It truly is the best game in town.

Then one day, I recognised that I had been engaged in, and even had a close relationship with, the thoughts, feelings, emotions, beliefs, concepts, and voices that seemed to be happening inside me. And then I just stopped. I let go. I allowed myself to rest in the stillness of the moment.
I surrendered my attention to the presence that exists now – to the infinite field in which everything exists now, to the underlying reality of everything, to free observation, to the source that loves everything just as it is. And there I found myself. There I remembered; I woke up.

When we subtract all that is required simply to sustain the body or fulfill society’s demands, what remains? A handful of years, perhaps, that could be called truly our own. The hours of wonder, of laughter, of deep conversation and quiet reflection —these are the rare coins of consciousness amid the currency of habit.

You know that feeling when there’s something you don’t like, something that repels you, and you’d want to change everything completely? Perhaps you’ve already thought about a situation?
When this happens, what usually appears is resistance: a kind of internal confrontation, a contraction that does not allow us to live life fully as it is.