Aryan was keen to explore the practice of returning back to awareness. Somehow, despite feeling overwhelmed and besieged by anxious thoughts, he was able to connect to the practice taught by the monk, of leading his mind and awareness back to the sensation of the stone in his hand.

“I should continue with this practice. It has helped me. What if…what if I could return to a state of awareness of the present moment while I am in the midst of a chaotic situation or an endless stream of overbearing thoughts. Is that possible?”

“Why not? It is possible!”

“I was not born a monk.”

“I have faced the same challenges which you face with the mind. I have not known deep inner peace and abiding joy from the very first day I embarked on this quest of knowing myself.

But I got there slowly and steadily.

All because I wanted to.

I wanted to redeem myself from my suffering and connect to that aspect of myself which is ever free, joyous and peaceful. That is the Self or Being within,” the monk answered.

Aryan was listening keenly.

“You have to want peace, Aryan.

Seek it in the boardroom, seek it when you are anxious or upset, when thoughts cloud your mind and judgement. Seek out peace, wherever you are. Make the quest for peace your priority! And then, you will find it,” he smiled.

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After an intentional pause, the monk continued.

“Here is what the revered Indian sage Patanjali, who distilled the science of inner mastery into the ‘Yoga Sutras’, had to say:

Abhyāsa-vairāgyābhyāṁ tan-nirodhaḥ.

“The mind becomes still through sustained practice and non-attachment.”

“It is simply about these two words, Aryan—abhyāsa (practice) and vairāgya (non-attachment)—this is the entire path to mastering the mind.”

Patanjali does not define practice as only sitting in meditation for twenty minutes each day. That is foundational, of course. But practice means repeatedly returning the mind to where you consciously want it to be.

Remember, he says: sustained practice.

Every time your mind wanders into worry...you bring it back to your breath.

That is practice.

Every time anger arises...you choose not to react impulsively.

That is practice.

Every time you catch yourself replaying the past or imagining the future...you gently return to the present.

That is practice.

Practice is not measured by how long you meditate. It is measured by how many times you return.

Patanjali does not expect the mind to stay perfectly still. The mind’s nature is movement. But stillness arises by not following the mind every time. That is practice. The act of returning is the practice.”

“Naturally, with practice, the mind loses its hold over time. Then stillness, which is your true nature, begins to unfold and make itself known. Then you recognize it, behind the cacophony of thoughts and behind every identification you have assumed to be ‘you’. Then, you begin to recognize yourself.”

The monk took an intentional pause.

“The next thing Patanjali talks about is Vairāgya or non-attachment. This is often misunderstood. Many people think non-attachment means giving up possessions, relationships, or ambition. That is not what it primarily means. Vairāgya is letting go of your compulsive attachment to every thought, emotion, desire, fear, or outcome.”

“Do you see the river nearby?”

“Yes.”

“Leaves float past on the water. You notice them, but you don’t jump into the river to chase each one.

Thoughts are like those leaves.

Most of us do the opposite. Every thought that appears, we immediately identify with:

• “What if I fail?”

• “I should have said that differently.”

• “What if this goes wrong?”

Instead of simply noticing the thought, we climb aboard it and let it carry us away.

Non-attachment is learning to let the leaf pass. You stay where you are, as Pure Awareness. The thought may still arise, but it no longer has authority over you.

Both practice and non-attachment are necessary.

Practice gives the mind a direction, while non-attachment frees it from every distraction.

Together, they create stillness.”

The monk smiled at Aryan.

“Sage Patanjali further said this:

Yogaḥ citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ

“The purpose of yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind.”

“The definition of yoga extends far beyond physical postures. Yoga means ‘union’. Yoga has eight limbs, namely ethical disciplines, personal observances, postures, breath control, withdrawal of the senses, concentration, meditation, and absorption; their purpose is leading one to union with the Self within, so that passing thoughts and fluctuating emotions no longer cloud the Awareness of one’s True Nature.”

Looking straight into his eyes, the monk said: “You are the ocean — the still, silent heart of the ocean. When ripples are created on the surface, they do not disturb the profound stillness of its depths.”

He continued:

“Aryan, you do not need motivation, you already have enough of it. You need silence.”

Aryan replied: “But how can silence move me forward?

“Because motivation gives you another push. Silence shows you the right direction.

A restless mind keeps asking, “What should I do next?” A silent mind begins to see, “What truly matters?” And that clarity changes everything. Clarity has always changed more lives than motivation ever has.”

Aryan nodded as understanding dawned on him.

“Let us settle into a practice.”

The Monk’s Inner Mastery Method

Know-Yourself Ritual

“This is an ancient inquiry tradition, older than words,” said the monk.

“At any time of the day, sit for five minutes with your eyes closed.”

“When a thought appears, do not follow it.”

“Simply ask yourself: ‘To whom has this thought appeared?’

“To me,” said Aryan.

The monk nodded.

“Then ask: ‘Who is this “me”?’

Do not answer intellectually.

Simply become curious.

If another thought appears...Ask again.

‘To whom has this appeared?’

‘To me.’

‘Who am I?’

Each question is not searching for an answer.

It is turning awareness back towards its own source.”

After a silence, he added,

“Do not seek a new experience.”

“Seek the one who is experiencing.“

“When the seeker becomes still enough, the Self quietly reveals Itself.”

Meditation

“Do you hear the gentle flow of the river?”

“Yes.”

“Do not concentrate on the river.

Instead...Notice the silence in which the river is heard.

The river changes.

The silence never does.

Eventually, you will stop listening to the sound and begin resting in the Presence that hears the sound.

This becomes meditation.

It does not matter if there is no river nearby. Listen to the hum of a fan, the chirping of birds, distant traffic, falling rain, or even the ticking of a clock. Do not focus on the sound itself. Instead, notice the silent awareness in which the sound appears and disappears. Let the sound become a reminder to return to the still Presence that is always listening.

The object is simply a doorway. The real meditation is resting in the Awareness that hears.”

Challenge: The One Conscious Pause

“For the next seven days, I want you to make only one change.”

“Before every important action... pause.”

Before opening your laptop.

Before answering a difficult email.

Before entering a meeting.

Before speaking when you are angry.

Take one conscious breath and ask yourself:

‘Am I about to react... or respond?’

Then proceed.”

The monk smiled.

“One conscious breath can prevent a hundred unconscious reactions.”

The conversation paused here. The lesson did not.

Until next time, sit with this question:

“What if peace is not something to be found, but something to be remembered?”

This is an ongoing dialogue between the monk and the seeker. It might interest you to browse through the previous dialogues:

The monk invited Aryan to his home on the banks of the Mahi river.

Aryan reached there as soon as he got free from work. The monk was sitting right outside his cottage in a meditative posture, immersed in bliss, seemingly untouched by the anxieties of the world.

He opened his eyes and looked at Aryan with an endearing smile, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Aryan was visibly distracted. The board meeting that evening had not gone very well. His mind was preoccupied with worries and anxieties around it, feelings he was quite familiar with.

“I don’t know how to stop thinking,” he blurted out.

The monk had already perceived his restlessness.

“About what?” he asked.

“About everything. Issues at work, my growth, promotion. Whether I’m making the right decisions. Whether I’ll earn enough money. About my family, my parents. I constantly think about everything.”

“Even now, half of me is somewhere inside my inbox,” he admitted apologetically.

The monk smiled softly.

“Has your worrying solved any of those problems?”

Aryan hesitated.

“Not really. But if I stop thinking, I feel irresponsible. Someone has to stay prepared.”

“Preparation is useful. But obsession is not.”

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“Tell me,” the monk questioned, “if your office asks you to solve a problem six months from now, can you do it?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why does your mind attempt to do that every waking hour?”

Aryan laughed quietly. “Because it believes if it thinks long enough, it can control what hasn’t happened.”

The monk nodded.

“Exactly.”

A silence settled between them.

Finally, the monk spoke again. “Most people think they are planning, but in truth, they are rehearsing fear.”

Aryan frowned. “Fear?”

“Notice your thoughts. How many begin with ‘What if...?’”

Aryan reflected.

“What if the project fails?”

“What if I disappoint everyone?”

“What if someone overtakes me?”

“What if I never become successful enough?”

He sighed.

“Almost all of them.”

“The mind labels it planning because planning sounds productive. But underneath it is fear asking for certainty.”

The words landed heavily.

The monk stole a glance at the river nearby before continuing.

“The future is unfinished. The mind dislikes unfinished things. Hence, it keeps returning to them, hoping repetition will produce certainty.”

“Modern minds have become addicted to unfinished futures,” he observed.

“Addicted?” said Aryan.

“Every future possibility promises one thing.”

“What?”

“Relief.”

“If I get promoted... I’ll relax.”

“If I earn more... I’ll finally feel secure.”

“If this project succeeds... then I’ll be happy.”

“But the moment one future arrives, the mind manufactures another.”

Aryan nodded slowly. “It’s true.”

“I achieved everything I dreamed about five years ago. But my mind has not stopped.”

The monk looked directly at him.

“Because the addiction was never to success.”

“It was to becoming.”

“The mind keeps saying, ‘Not yet. Just one more achievement. One more milestone. Then we can rest.’”

Aryan felt a knot tighten inside him.

“So how do I stop?”

The monk smiled.

“You don’t stop by fighting thoughts. You stop by giving the mind something deeper than thought.”

He looked into Aryan’s eyes and asked, “Tell me something.”

“What is missing from this moment?”

Aryan looked around.

Verdant shrubs and trees blanketed the landscape. Chirping birds drank from the softly lapping river. The fragrance of fresh flowers permeated the air. For the first time, he noticed it.

After a long pause, he answered quietly.

“Nothing.”

The monk nodded.

“Yet your mind insists this moment is incomplete because it is comparing it to an imaginary future.”

Aryan remained silent.

“Most suffering is not caused by the present. It is caused by resisting the present while bargaining with the future.”

Aryan pondered on that deeply.

“Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita:

Yato yato niścarati manaś cañcalam asthiram
Tatas tato niyamyaitad ātmany eva vaśaṁ nayet.

Meaning:

“Wherever the restless and unsteady mind wanders, let one gently bring it back and place it under the control of the Self.” (6.26)

The first thing he says, is to notice the mind has wandered. He knows it will, he assumes it will. Hence, the first step is recognizing, “My mind has drifted into worry, desire, memory, or fear.”

Notice his language — gently bring it back. Krishna does not advocate suppressing thoughts or fighting the mind. He says, each time the mind wanders, you simply bring it back. Back to what? To an anchor. It could be:

• the breath,

• the present moment,

• the object of meditation,

• or ultimately, awareness of the Self.

The emphasis is on repetition, not perfection. When you do this frequently, you will observe a shift — the frequency of the mind’s wandering will reduce, and you will stop drifting away along with every pull of the mind.

The monk picked up a small stone lying at his feet.

“Would you like to learn a practice?”

“Please.”

The Monk’s Inner Mastery Method

Visualization Practice: Staying with the Anchor

The monk placed the stone in Aryan’s palm.

“Close your eyes.”

Aryan obeyed.

“Do not try to stop your thoughts.”

“Simply notice the weight of the stone.”

“The coolness against your skin.”

“The sensation of your breath.”

“When a thought about tomorrow appears, do nothing.”

“Do not argue with it. Do not follow it.”

“Gently return to the feeling of the stone... and the breath.”

A minute passed. Then another.

When Aryan opened his eyes, something had softened.

“The thoughts didn’t disappear.”

“They weren’t supposed to.”

“But they became quieter,” Aryan said.

The monk smiled gently. “Because for a few moments, your attention came home.”

“Stillness is not the absence of thought. It is the freedom to choose where your attention rests.”

The monk continued, “I urge you to do this practice for five to ten minutes every day. Use a stone or any object as an anchor. If nothing is available, rest your attention on your breath, go along with the inhale and exhale, making the breath your anchor.”

Know-Yourself Ritual

“In your journal, write down every worry that is currently occupying your mind.

Now, circle only those you can act on today.

This way, you set priorities for your mind. It has something to chew on and work on, rather than running in every direction.”

The Return Challenge

The monk said to Aryan: “For the next seven days, I do not want you to stop your thoughts. That is not your task.”

Aryan looked puzzled.

“Instead, each time you catch your mind wandering into tomorrow—planning, worrying, rehearsing conversations, imagining outcomes—simply pause.”

“Take one slow breath.”

“Then ask yourself, ‘What is actually happening right now?’“

“Notice five things you can see, three sounds you can hear, and the feeling of your feet on the ground.”

“That is all.”

He continued after a pause:

“This week, don’t measure how often your mind wanders. Measure how often you remember to return.“

“Your future will always ask for your attention,” said the monk.

“But your life...”

He paused.

“...is only ever happening here.”

The conversation paused here. The lesson did not.

Until next time, sit with this question:

“Am I planning, or am I rehearsing fear?”

This is an ongoing dialogue between the monk and the seeker. You might want to browse through some of the previous dialogues:

Chapter 1: When Success Feels Empty

Chapter 2: From Achievement To Alignment

Aryan began to feel a strange calmness in the monk’s company.

He confided in him further, “I have devoted years to building my career, hoping that one day I’ll lead my company, enjoy financial freedom, and leave behind a legacy that outlives me. I want to be remembered as someone who truly made something of himself.”

The monk listened without interruption.

After a long silence, he asked,
“If nobody applauded you, would you still choose this life?”

Aryan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Suppose there were no promotions, no awards, no recognition, no relatives comparing you with others. No one would know your name. Would you still work as hard for the same goals?”

Aryan stared at the potted plants around him.

“I... don’t know.”

The monk smiled. “That is an honest answer.”

Another silence passed.
“Most people believe inherited desires are their own. They borrow ambitions from parents, peers, advertisements, and society. They spend decades climbing a ladder without ever asking who placed it there.”

Aryan asked immediately: “So is ambition wrong?”

The monk replied serenely:
“No. Unexamined ambition is dangerous.”

He picked up a dry leaf lying next to him.

“This leaf moves wherever the current takes it. Most lives are like that—carried by the current of comparison.”

Aryan looked thoughtful.

The monk gently continued: “I want you to understand, many of our desires are imposed by the ego. Ego is the sense of separate self or “I”, within us. The one that constantly asks, ‘How do I appear? Am I ahead? Am I admired? Am I enough?’ That is the ego.”

Aryan nodded slowly.

“What is wrong with the ego?”

“Nothing. It is a useful servant but a terrible master.”

“The ego builds an identity from possessions, titles, achievements, and opinions. Because these are temporary, it lives in constant fear of losing them. So even after success, it whispers, ‘More.’”

Aryan thought of every promotion that had brought excitement for only a few weeks before anxiety returned.

The monk shared some nuggets of Wisdom.

“The Bhagawad Gita says:

prakṛiteḥ kriyamāṇāni guṇaiḥ karmāṇi sarvaśhaḥ
ahankāra-vimūḍhātmā kartāham iti manyate

“All activities are carried out by the three modes of material nature. But a person whose intelligence is bewildered by the false ego begins to think, ‘I am the doer.’”

The person thinks:

I am my job.

I am my achievements.

I am my failures.

Identifying himself with external measures of success, he loses his peace, thus.”

The monk took a slight pause to invite reflection.

“Now, contemplate another jewel of Wisdom from the Bhagawad Gita:

āpūryamāṇam achala-pratiṣhṭhaṁ
samudram āpaḥ praviśhanti yadvat
tadvat kāmā yaṁ praviśhanti sarve
sa śhāntim āpnoti na kāma-kāmī

“Just as the ocean remains undisturbed despite countless rivers flowing into it, the wise person remains unmoved despite the endless stream of desires and experiences that arise in life. True peace comes not from constantly chasing material desires but from a deep connection to the Self —which is already full just like the ocean.”

Aryan remained silent.

“Understand the difference, Aryan:

“The ego asks, ‘What can I become so that I matter?’

The spirit asks, ‘What am I, beneath everything I have become?’”

“For years,” the monk said softly, “you have been trying to add something to yourself—wealth, status, recognition—all this, believing that completeness lies outside of you.”

Arjun stared at the blades of grass in front of him.

For the first time, he wondered whether every goal he had chased was an attempt to convince himself that he was enough.

The monk smiled, “If you are not connected to the soft, steady voice of spirit, the loud voice of ego will easily have you in its grips.

When desire arises from ego, every achievement creates another hunger.

But when action arises from spirit, work becomes an expression of fullness rather than a search for it.”

In the quiet that followed, Aryan realized he had spent his life asking the world to tell him who he was, while never once asking that question to himself.

A thought flickered through his mind, disturbing him.

“What if I discover that this life I have built was never my dream? My parents wanted me to choose security. Society valued prestige and titles. My friends chased promotions, and so did I. What if all my desires are borrowed desires, must I resign tomorrow?”

The monk laughed softly.

“Running away is also an action of the ego.”

Aryan looked surprised.

“The ego says, ‘Become a CEO and you will be happy.’ When lasting happiness doesn’t come, it whispers, ‘Become a monk and you will be happy.’ It always promises fulfilment in the next identity. Do you see, it always postpones your happiness.

Aryan, if you wonder whether the life you have built was your dream or not, then pause, and take some time to ask yourself who you really are. What are your deepest values? What does Aryan truly love doing, and would do even if no one paid him to do it? What would he stand up for, even when it is difficult? What actions and activities bring him joy and a sense of inner aliveness? These questions take one deeper towards one’s true Self, or spirit nature.”

Once more I ask you, “If the applause stopped, what would you like to carry on doing?””

Aryan began to ponder deeply.

“Aryan, you do not have to give up everything you have built, but maybe you need to stop relying on those things to give you your identity.”

Aryan nodded.
“Do not ask, ‘What job should I have?’

Ask instead, ‘Who am I while doing this job?’

Are you anxious, comparing, proving, collecting applause? Or are you serving, creating, learning, and growing?”

Aryan remained silent.

The monk continued,

“If tomorrow you become a writer while still craving validation, you will suffer.

If you become a teacher while seeking admiration, you will suffer.

And if you become a monk while secretly wanting disciples, you will suffer.

Changing roles without changing consciousness is like painting over cracks without repairing the foundation.”

Aryan began to contemplate deeply.

The monk gave him an endearing smile and continued:

“Stay where you are Aryan, and observe.

Work without making every task a referendum on your worth.

Remove the need for approval, to outperform everyone.

And remove the fear of falling behind.

When the ego’s noise settles, something remarkable happens.”

“What is that?”

“You begin to hear the quieter voice of spirit.”

“It gently asks,

‘Where can I express my gifts?’

‘How can I serve?’

‘What kind of work allows me to be fully alive?’

Its guidance is calm, not desperate.

Carry on with your responsibilities, support your family and perform your work with excellence.

But every day, create a little space for what makes your spirit expand—writing, teaching, healing, music, serving, building, whatever it is that beckons you.

If that calling is genuine, it will grow stronger without force.

Then, if you leave, it will not feel like escaping your old life.

It will feel like naturally outgrowing it.”

The monk looked toward the horizon.

“The spirit does not ask you to abandon the world.

It asks you stop abandoning yourself while living in it.”

The Monk’s Inner Mastery Method

Know-Yourself Ritual

Make two columns in your diary.

On one side, list down: My Dreams

On the other side, list down: Society’s dreams for Me

Close your eyes for two minutes and ponder on each list.

Do this every day, until you can clearly differentiate between your authentic self- desires which are aligned with spirit, and your created/false self- desires which are fueled by ego.

Awareness is key.

Visualization Practice

Take five minutes and sit comfortably in meditation.

Close your eyes and take deep breaths, deep inhales followed by deep exhales.

Now, visualize removing layers of expectations from your shoulders. Imagine, dark colored heavy energy of burdens leaving your shoulders and exiting towards your back.

Keep breathing. Now visualize white, healing light filling you up with each breath. Continue breathing deeply.

Open your eyes when you are ready.

Challenge

Question one major goal this week. See how you are feeding the goal.

Are you feeding it through comparison, need for more prestige and power, praise and applause?

If so, don’t judge yourself. Simply recognize this.

Now, try to align your goal with your spirit. Ask yourself: how can I serve, create, learn and grow through this goal of mine?

Don’t judge. Don’t shift goals. Just reorient.

The conversation paused here. The lesson did not.

Until next time, sit with this question:

“If nobody applauded me, would I still do this?”

At forty-three, Aryan had most of the things people aspire to and equate success with. Over two decades in the corporate world, he had climbed from a junior analyst to a senior leadership rank at a multinational firm. Along the way, he had earned industry awards, handsome bonuses, and the respect of colleagues. He owned an elegant bungalow, a luxury car, had an impressive investment portfolio, and memberships to select clubs. At home, a loving wife and a six-year-old son completed the portrait of his nearly-perfect life.

Yet, beneath the polished exterior, the financial security, and all the professional achievements lay a restless, unhappy man. A persisting emptiness followed his busy, frenzied days, lingering even in moments that should have brought joy. When he sat with himself after the day, he would wonder why there was no peace or contentment.

One evening, as he had almost slept on his lounge chair, his phone rang. It was his childhood friend, Akshar, from the neighborhood. He excitedly told him that an accomplished monk known to his father, was scheduled to visit their house on the coming weekend. He invited Aryan to come and receive his blessings.

Aryan had never met a monk before and immediately accepted the invitation.

On the appointed Saturday, he joined a swarm of people gathered in the front garden of Akshar’s bungalow; a peaceful and radiant monk seated on a stone pedestal in front of them. The monk was replying to questions from the audience with gentleness, care and Wisdom. To a careworn middle-aged man, he said, “You have built a successful life, but have you built a meaningful one?” Saying so, he looked straight in Aryan’s direction.

Aryan responded like a man jolted from a deep sleep. Was the monk speaking directly to him? Did he know something about him and his life? A sense of disbelief and awe washed over him. He waited for the crowds to thin out before approaching him.

Aryan introduced himself and confided in the monk that in spite of a long, successful career, he did not feel happy, fulfilled, or at peace.

He said: “I have grown up believing that success brings meaning.”

The monk smiled at him gently and affectionately.

“Success can bring comfort; it can open up opportunities and bring respect. But it cannot guarantee meaning. Meaning is something you have to find along the way, else, you will be perpetually discontented.”

Aryan pondered on that deeply.

“But everyone I see around me is chasing success. It seems to be deeply ingrained in us.”

“You are right,” said the monk. “The world teaches you to count what can be measured—your salary, your possessions, titles, even followers. But the things that nourish the human spirit, they cannot be counted so easily. It is your Spirit that brings meaning to life, and to your work as well.”

“Have you been running too hard and too fast, forgetting to nurture your Spirit; without even stopping to ask who it is who is running?”

The monk’s Wisdom forced him to reflect. He looked puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“You know your work, your achievements, your goals and ambitions. But do you know yourself?”

The question unsettled him.

“I thought I did,” he replied.

“A man may conquer a thousand mountains and still be defeated by his own restlessness.”

Aryan lowered his gaze. “That sounds like me.”

The monk nodded gently.

“When you start living from the authenticity of your True Nature, you will find both happiness and fulfilment,” he smiled.

“Contentment at work does not come from always asking: “What am I getting?” but instead, from posing the question: “What am I contributing, becoming and learning?”

“If you can connect your work to a larger purpose, align it with your personal values, view your role as an opportunity to solve problems and help others, and see work as a part of your growth, then success will never feel empty again.”

“Remember, achievement is not the same as meaning. Lasting meaning comes from purpose, growth and contribution,” he completed.

Aryan was listening with undivided attention and awe, wondering, at the same time, how the monk could provide such deep insights on practical life.

“Let me take you thousands of years back to a compelling story from the Upanishads,” the monk continued. “This is a dialogue between the renowned sage Yajnavalkya and his wife Maitreyi. Till today, it stands as one of the most profound conversations in all of Indian philosophy.”

“One day, Yajnavalkya decided it was time to renounce worldly life and devote himself fully to spiritual realization.

Before leaving, he summoned one of his two wives, Maitreyi, and expressed his desire to divide his property between the two and quietly leave. For most, this would seem like a generous offer. But Maitreyi asked him a pertinent question:

“If the wealth of the entire world would become mine, would I gain immortality through it?”

The sage replied: “Your life would become very comfortable, like that of wealthy people, but there is no hope of immortality through wealth.”

That was a pivotal moment for Maitreyi. She realized that wealth can provide comfort, status, security, and pleasure, but cannot solve the deeper problem of human existence. It cannot eliminate fear, loss, aging, death, or inner emptiness.

So, she said: “Then what am I to do with that thing which is not going to make me immortal or permanently satisfied? Teach me instead your Wisdom.”

She rejected inheritance for Wisdom.

Sage Yajnavalkya then began his teaching:

“It is not for the sake of the husband that the husband is loved, but for the sake of the Self.”

“It is not for the sake of the wife that the wife is loved, but for the sake of the Self.”

He continued:

“Not for the sake of children...”

“Not for the sake of wealth...”

“Not for the sake of the world...”

“Not for the sake of Gods...”

“Not for the sake of the beings...”

“At first, this may sound like a strange teaching, and perhaps selfish, for he says that the Self alone is dear. Hence, our love for other objects is secondary, leading only towards the joy of the Self.”

“But sage Yajnavalkya is pointing to a very deep truth. He is saying that for every object we love, what we love really is the promise of fulfilment we think it holds, or the completeness of being we think we will achieve.”

“He means that every desire is really a search for wholeness and completeness. And that fulfilment can be found only in the inner Self, where we are already complete, whole and blissful.”

“We tend to believe that completeness will be found in external possessions or achievements. We search for it in the next promotion, the next car, the right partner, more money, etc.”

“The object keeps changing, but the underlying longing remains the same. Ultimately, this longing is to know and experience our own deepest Self.”

“Therefore, Aryan, today you feel restless and dissatisfied, not because of a lack of achievement, or because your desires are wrong, but because you are searching for fulfilment in goalposts which cannot provide it permanently.”

“Stop mistaking your outer accomplishments as a source of lasting fulfilment; and seek instead your inner completeness, your true Self. Then let everything you do become an expression of that. Infuse everything you do with the energy of Spirit within.”

“When you do the same things with a different intention and perspective, you will notice a subtle shift in how you are feeling,” the monk observed with clarity.

Aryan was struck by the deep Wisdom. Why had he never stopped to ponder on this? He wondered.

“How can the Self be known?” he asked.

The monk smiled: “The Self must be heard about, reflected upon, deeply contemplated and realized directly. This is what sage Yajnavalkya told next, to Maitreyi.”

“Every day, give some time to yourself, away from all distractions, goals and needs. Learn to sit silently with yourself. This is not an outward quest, but an inner pilgrimage.”

The conversation paused here. The lesson did not.

Until next time, sit with this question:

“What gives your life meaning beyond achievement?”