Meditation is mostly an inner journey of the soul, of the spirit. With the kind guru as a guide and pith instructions for maps, one travels through new and unknown landscapes—sometimes traversing seemingly impassable emotional and mental terrain, and at other times discovering enchanting groves of spiritual delight. The ego is never satisfied with anything, complaining all the way. Without its usual stances and facades, there is no gratification for the ego anywhere, no way for it to maintain its fictitious existence. And so it perishes—dying into the radiance of awareness. Who’s traveling here anyway? What is this ongoing openness of being that doesn’t seem to go anywhere, that is no “thing” at all? Without a future, without a past, existence is the ineffability of each moment. With each step taken it is as if one has arrived home, yet at the same time in the freshness of a new place. Where else could one go? The movements, sounds, and thoughts of the day leave no trace in awareness’ sky. Without trying to do so, one enters the realm of suchness that has been here all along. There is no thing to “do”, since this miracle is self occurring. The dark night of the ego’s confusion is cleared away by the daybreak of awareness; so one is no longer roping for happiness in the dark. Wherever one sits or walks, whatever one does, it’s as if everywhere were a pure realm of experience. All beings are part of this—simply unaware. Anyone, anywhere can find this place, if they only wish to make the journey.

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‍— Lama Drimed