The Lifelong Learner

Before I begin, I want to express my gratitude to all of you who generously shared your thoughts in response to my question. It always humbles and inspires me to learn from the unique paths others have walked in their meditation journeys.

Today, I’d like to share mine—a story not of mastery, but of a relationship between me and…meditation. A kind of love and resistance. A journey through fascination, confusion, and ultimately, a gentle unfolding. Perhaps the most honest way to describe it is: my love–hate story with meditation… and the most important lessons it’s taught me.

Before 2022, I had no real concept of what meditation was. Whenever I heard the word, the only image that came to mind was drawn from the kungfu movies of my childhood (which, truth be told, I still enjoy when I have the time). I imagined monks perched high on misty mountaintops, deep in meditation, only to return having unlocked new hidden powers. While I never truly believed this, it always felt… compelling. Mysterious. Cool.

Then in 2022, everything shifted. I accompanied my wife to a Buddhist meditation center in Germany. Skeptical, but curious, I sat down on a cushion in the far-left corner of the meditation hall. I listened to the master’s guidance, brought attention to my breath and senses, and allowed my thoughts to roam freely…

Within minutes, I noticed how slouched my back was….I straightened it…

Then my leg fell asleep… Pain surged… I began wondering how much longer I had to sit like this.

But then, a curious question arose in my mind:

“What is the part of me that feels this pain? Is the discomfort real, or merely a product of the voices in my head?“

As someone naturally drawn to questions, that moment was a spark. I immersed myself in study—reading voraciously, attending workshops, listening to countless Dharma talks. I visited temples, reflected deeply, and dove into the rich philosophy of Zen Buddhism. It became almost like an addiction—but a beautiful one. I thought I had found it: the answer to life’s deepest questions, the key to happiness. I thought I had cracked the code.

And then—life happened. Something painful, unexpected, and deeply destabilizing. In that moment, all the wisdom I had gathered still made sense, but I couldn’t apply it. My emotions overwhelmed me. No breathing technique, no mantra, no “being in the present” could bring calm. I felt completely lost and profoundly depressed.

But that dark period gifted me with two essential truths:

1. If my spiritual practice doesn’t transform me in daily life, it’s not practice. It’s consumption or to put it in a more simple term… It’s purely entertainment.
2. True happiness doesn’t arise from the intellect. It’s not a concept or an achievement. It’s a state of being—of mind, body, and perhaps even spirit. When I reach it, I’ll know. And if I haven’t yet—that’s okay.

Since then, I’ve distanced myself from the spiritual content I once devoured. I haven’t attended any new workshops, read any new books or listened to new talks. Not because they weren’t meaningful, but because something inside me told me it was time to stop consuming—and to start living.

…

These days, I just try to show up for life.

I give my best at work. I take care of my body. I try to help others when I can. And, in the simplest terms, I try to grow—not as a spiritual seeker, but as a human being.

As for meditation, my relationship with it has softened. It’s no longer a tool I use to control my mind, emotions, or unlock anything. For me, meditation is just… life. I meditate to enjoy every aspect of life, to discover each moment of life as an entire new experience.

I no longer ask if I’m doing it “right.” I no longer panic when things go wrong. When difficult emotions arise, I meet them. I listen. I welcome them without trying to change them.

I’ve stopped chasing transcendence…

Instead, I’ve started walking slowly on the ground beneath my feet…