This man heals what doctors can't: Rupert Spira. It's impossible to be mentally trapped, depressed or anxious after understanding his teachings. Here's his 5-step approach to unlocking mental freedom: 🧵

In the early 1980s, a 19-year-old bicycle racer in California read about enlightenment in a book and decided he was going to get it. His name was Stephen Gray. He had no guru and no monastery. He had the discipline of an athlete who was used to winning by training harder than everyone else. What followed was six years of the most stubborn seeking you can imagine. He built a small meditation hut in his parents’ backyard. By day he worked in his father’s machine shop, and then he walked out to the hut and sat, two, three, sometimes four hours a day. He found a Zen teacher, sat long silent retreats, and trained his mind the way he had trained his legs: harder, longer, more. Every hour on the cushion was another attempt to get somewhere, to break through, to finally arrive. Then one day, sitting in that hut, he made a decision. Today he would break through. Within seconds, the whole effort collapsed, and a thought came that he had never let himself think: “I can’t do this.” What came next was so intense he was sure he was going to die. Energy tore through his body, his heart raced, and instead of fighting it, he let it happen. Then everything stopped. In his own words, there was just space. He got up, bowed to the little Buddha statue in the hut, and burst out laughing. For six years he had been chasing the Buddha. In that moment he saw that the Buddha he had been chasing was what he was. Think about what that means. The thing he had been trying to reach was the one doing the reaching. Every hour of effort had been the seeker looking for himself. Today the world knows Stephen Gray as Adyashanti. For almost thirty years he taught people all over the world, and he kept repeating the one thing most seekers don’t want to hear. He put it in five words. Enlightenment is a destructive process. It has nothing to do with becoming better or happier, he said. It is the crumbling away of untruth. Most of us are still sitting in the hut. > Meditating to become calmer. > Reading to become wiser. > Doing the work to become a better version of ourselves. Stephen Gray trained for six years to win enlightenment. It came the moment he lost. Not because effort is useless. Because the one making the effort was the only thing standing in the way.

There is no “you” having anxiety or suffering. It’s an illusion. Let it go.

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In 1909, on a beach in southern India, a man looked at a thin, quiet boy and announced he had found the next Messiah. The man was Charles Leadbeater, a leader of the Theosophical Society, who claimed he could see auras. The boy was the son of one of the Society’s employees. Leadbeater said the boy’s aura held no trace of selfishness. His name was Jiddu Krishnamurti. What happened next was one of the strangest projects in spiritual history. The Society’s president, Annie Besant, became his legal guardian. He was taken to England, educated, and trained for one purpose: to become the vehicle for the coming World Teacher. In 1911, they built an organisation around him, the Order of the Star in the East, with Krishnamurti at its head. It grew into a global movement with more than 43,000 members. A Dutch baron gave him a castle with 5,000 acres of woodland. In 1927, Besant declared publicly that the World Teacher was here. Thousands were waiting for him to speak as the Messiah. On August 3, 1929, at a camp in Ommen in the Netherlands, he finally did. In front of Annie Besant and about 3,000 members, he dissolved the entire order. "Truth is a pathless land," he told them. No religion, no sect, and no organisation could lead anyone to it. A belief could not be organised. He did not want followers. He gave back the castle. He returned the money and the land. People who had spent twenty years preparing to follow him were told there was nothing to follow. Think about what that took. He was 34. He had been handed everything a spiritual teacher could want: devotees, wealth, land, a global platform, and a ready-made identity as the saviour of humanity. And he walked away from the one thing almost nobody walks away from. Being someone. For the next 57 years, he travelled the world saying the same uncomfortable thing in a hundred different ways. No authority can see the truth for you. Not a guru, not a method, not him. You have to watch your own mind, the fear, the comparison, the endless striving to become something, until you see that the one watching is made of the same thing it’s watching. He put it in four words. The observer is the observed. Most of us are still waiting for someone to arrive. The right teacher. The right method. The day we’ll finally be ready. In 1929, the World Teacher arrived. And the first thing he did was send everyone home. Not because there was nothing to find. Because no one else could ever find it for you.

Built this website for a local business this week. Funny thing is, I've never been a web designer. But I've learned something far more valuable than any technical skill: how to master my inner world. How to find solutions when I don't have the answers. How to think beyond the obvious. How to overcome challenges without getting lost in them. And most importantly, how to work with flow instead of force. Once you understand the inner game of life, the outer challenges start looking very different. You stop asking, "Can I do this?" And start asking, "How can I make this happen?"

If you want to dramatically deepen your sense of inner peace, learn to return to the awareness behind your thoughts. Worries about the future, memories of the past, the constant need to control everything. Most of it is just the mind pulling you away from what you already are. Be still, recognize the awareness that is always here, and let everything else come and go.

If you want real freedom, stop trying to feel better and start getting better at feeling, letting every emotion that arises (fear, uncertainty, irritation) stay as long as it needs without a single thought trying to fix it. Whatever you fully allow is finally free to leave.

In 2017, a book about yoga appeared on Amazon with no author photo. Kriya Yoga Exposed: The Truth about Kriya Yoga Gurus and Organizations. The author was called SantataGamana. He had no face, no biography, no ashram, no lineage, and no organization asking for loyalty. There was only a pen name, and a book that did something spiritual books rarely do. It questioned the people selling the path. More books followed: on kundalini, on samadhi, on turiya, on lucid dreaming, on tantra. One of them, The Yoga of Consciousness, held 25 practices that all pointed at the same thing: not a new state to reach, but the awareness you already are. People all over the world read them. Thousands left reviews. And nobody knew who had written them. Think about how unusual that is. The spiritual world runs on personalities. Faces on walls. Gurus with followers, followers with gurus. Robes, titles, organizations, Instagram accounts. The teacher often becomes the thing people chase, and the teaching becomes the price of admission. SantataGamana took the person out of it. You couldn't worship him. You couldn't follow him. You couldn't build an image of him in your head, because there was nothing to build it from. All you had was the pointing. And the pointing always went back to you. > Who is reading this sentence? > What notices the thought that says you aren't there yet? > When you look for the one who is looking, what do you actually find? For six years, a man with no face kept asking readers to find the one who has no face. Then, in 2023, he published Liberation: A Spiritual Autobiography, revealing who was behind the pen name. His name is Av Neryah. I know this story from the inside. Because I was one of those readers. For years, his books were my teacher. I practised from them. I argued with them. I went back to them when everything else stopped making sense. In 2021, I sent an email to a man I had never seen. Three years later, he was guiding me himself. Av Neryah is my teacher, but more importantly, a friend.. I won't try to convince you of what he has realized. That was never the point of his books, and it isn't the point of this post. But here is what years of being guided by someone I couldn't see taught me. The guidance never came from the face. It came from the one thing he kept pointing to. The one thing I had never seen either. THE ONE who is LOOKING.

Mom ask how business goes.. my content doesn't sell.. so I started to dance online with my bro:

The older I get, the more I understand: Peace isn't about having more. It's about needing less. Less approval. Less explaining. Less proving. Less chasing. Less caring who doesn't understand. I'm not becoming someone new. I'm finally becoming myself again. What did you stop needing as you got older?

For years, brain scientists threw away the most interesting part of their data. In the 1990s, at Washington University in St. Louis, neurologist Marcus Raichle and his colleagues were scanning people's brains while they did simple tasks. They read words, looked at images, and solved puzzles. To measure what a task did to the brain, they needed something to compare it with. So between tasks, they asked people to do nothing. Just lie in the scanner, eyes closed, and rest. That "nothing" was supposed to be the quiet baseline. It wasn't quiet. When people started a task, a specific set of brain regions became less active. When the task ended and they went back to doing nothing, those regions switched back on. The brain wasn't resting. It was busy with something else. The numbers were strange too. The brain is about 2% of your body weight but uses roughly 20% of its energy. Concentrating hard on a task barely raises that. So most of the brain's energy was going into whatever it does when you aren't asking it to do anything. In 2001, Raichle gave it a name: the default mode network. Default meaning this is what the brain returns to whenever nothing else needs its attention. And what does it do there? It replays the past and rehearses the future. It wonders what someone meant by that message. It imagines conversations that will never happen. It returns again and again to one subject: YOU. Your history, your problems, your reputation, and what is still missing. Some researchers began loosely calling it the brain's storyteller, the place where the sense of "me" gets narrated. In 2010, two Harvard psychologists, Matthew Killingsworth and Daniel Gilbert, built an app that pinged about 2,250 people at random moments and asked what they were doing and how they felt. People's minds were wandering nearly half the time. And on average, they were less happy when it did. They titled the paper "A wandering mind is an unhappy mind." Then the scientists put meditators in the scanner. In 2011, Judson Brewer at Yale compared experienced meditators with beginners. Across three different techniques, the experienced meditators showed less activity in the default mode network. Even when their minds did wander, regions involved in monitoring lit up alongside it. They weren't just drifting into the story. They were noticing it. Contemplatives had spent thousands of years trying to quieten that inner voice. Now it was showing up on a brain scan. A year later, a team at Imperial College London tried something else. Robin Carhart-Harris gave volunteers psilocybin, the active compound in magic mushrooms, and scanned them as it took effect. The team had expected the brain to light up. It did the opposite. Activity dropped in the central hubs of the default mode network. And the bigger the drop, the stronger people said the experience was. Later research showed the network wasn't simply switching off. It was coming apart. Regions that normally work in tight coordination fell out of sync, and parts of the brain that rarely talk to each other started communicating. In 2024, a study published in Nature, from the same university where the network was first found, reported that psilocybin desynchronized brain networks across the whole brain, with the default mode network hit hardest. Some of the changes were still measurable weeks later. People in these states often describe the same thing: the sense of being a separate self, telling its own story, goes quiet. Some studies have linked how strongly people report this "ego dissolution" with how much the default mode network breaks down. Two very different doors. One is years of sitting still. The other is a molecule. Both lead to a similar place: the storyteller goes quiet. And here is what people keep reporting on the other side. They didn't disappear. The commentary stopped, but they were still there. Something was still aware, perhaps more clearly than before, without a narrator explaining it. Which raises an uncomfortable question. If the voice that keeps telling you who you are can be slowed down, desynchronized, and switched off by a breath practice or a chemical, was it ever you? Or was it just the setting your brain returns to when no one is paying attention? The science has limits, and they matter. The default mode network is not an enemy. It also helps you remember, imagine, plan, and understand other people. It isn't the ego, and you can't switch it off for good. A brain scan can show a network going quiet. It cannot tell you who notices the silence. But it does show this much. For most of human history, we assumed the restless voice in our heads was the self. It turns out the brain was simply running its default. And the quiet people spend their lives searching for was never something they had to build. It is what is left when the storyteller stops talking.

You can spend 20 years meditating, doing breathwork, healing your wounds and having profound spiritual experiences. But if you never let go of the “I” doing it all, you can spend your whole life seeking freedom while keeping the seeker alive. This is the trap of spiritual seeking. The same “I” that wanted to control life now wants to master surrender. Even letting go becomes another thing for “I” to achieve.