When I Couldn’t See a Way Forward
There are phases in life when a person looks fine on the outside but is falling apart on the inside. That is what happened to me. There came a time when I began to feel that I had been left behind, and that everyone else had moved ahead. A regret settled in my mind, and it slowly grew heavier.
Then everything began to change. I lost my appetite. My head felt heavy, as if something inside was about to burst. I had stopped meeting people. Even talking on the phone felt like a burden. There was just a room, and me.
The hardest part was that I didn’t have the courage to tell anyone. Everyone was at home, but I never told anyone what was going on inside me. I felt that no one would understand what I was going through.
In that phase, I learned something I still remember today: when a person keeps thinking alone, sorrow keeps growing, because the mind keeps going around in the same circle.
A Book, a Small Turning Point
One day, while scrolling on my phone, I came across a book by Osho. I wasn’t looking for anything deep. My curiosity was simply about what had been written on life and death.
The book spoke about meditation. One idea that I understood most deeply was that life and death are not separate, they are two ends of the same thread. Slowly, my curiosity turned into understanding. I realised that whatever I was searching for was not in some faraway world, but within me.
My Practice: Just Watching
Every morning I would sit quietly. Eyes closed, back straight, attention only on the breath. The breath comes in, the breath goes out. That’s all.
In the first few days, it felt like nothing was happening. My mind wandered here and there, old memories came up, and the regrets returned. But I made one rule: when the mind wandered, I wouldn’t scold it, I would just lovingly bring it back to the breath.
In meditation, this “bringing back” is the real practice. No matter how many times the mind wanders, coming back each time is the victory.
After a few weeks, I noticed a change. The voice inside my mind grew a little quieter. Thoughts still came, but they no longer swept me away.
The First Big Lesson: I Am Not My Thoughts
The first thing meditation taught me was that thoughts and I are not the same.
When we are sad, we start believing “I am worthless” or “nothing will ever work out for me.” But when we watch our thoughts in meditation, we see that they are like clouds. They come, they linger, and they pass. The sky stays the same, while the clouds keep moving.
When this understanding sinks in, the weight of sorrow becomes a little lighter. Thoughts still arrive, but they are no longer my “owners.” They are just guests, coming and going.
The Second Big Lesson: “This Too Shall Change”
One short sentence is now my greatest strength: “This too shall change.”
Earlier, when trouble came, I would panic, or give up and sit down. Now I pause for a moment. I tell myself that this is here right now, but it won’t stay forever. And strangely, it is true. Every difficulty in my life, however big it seemed, has changed with time.
This sentence does not deny the pain. It only reminds me that sorrow is like a season. It comes, and it goes.
The Buddha also said this: everything is impermanent, meaning everything keeps changing. And this applies not only to sorrow, but to happiness too. So we should neither get carried away in joy, nor be crushed in grief.
The Third Big Lesson: Peace Doesn’t Mean Being Alone
Meditation also taught me another deep thing, which I had earlier misunderstood. I used to think that peace meant staying away from everyone. But real peace is not found in loneliness, it is found in staying connected.
When we are in pain, we often cut ourselves off from the people close to us. We think, “Why tell anyone?” or “No one will understand.” But the truth is that whatever we keep suppressed inside grows heavier. And whatever we share with someone we trust, half of its weight is lifted.
Meditation gives us inner support. But relationships, conversation, and sitting with loved ones are the outer support. We need both. One alone is never enough.
How I Am Today
I won’t claim that meditation has solved all my problems. The difficulties are still there. There are worries about money, the pressure of studies, and expectations from myself as I grow older.
But one thing has changed: now I have a way to face them. Earlier, when trouble came, I would break down. Now I take a deep breath, remind myself that this will change, and then take one small step.
I believe this is the real gift of meditation. It doesn’t remove life’s difficulties, but it gives us the strength to carry them.
If You Are Going Through Something Similar
If you too are going through a time when the darkness feels deep, I’d like to say a few small things:
- Start with just 5 minutes. Sit quietly and watch your breath come and go. There is nothing to change. Just watch.
- Don’t scold yourself when the mind wanders. Gently bring it back. That is the practice.
- Don’t try forceful or unusual experiments. Any attempt with the breath that causes discomfort is not meditation.
- Talk to someone close to you. A friend, a sister, or a parent. A small conversation can be the beginning.
I know that words alone don’t change a life. But a small beginning, five quiet minutes, one honest conversation with someone close, together these can change a lot.
And whenever the darkness feels very deep, just remember one sentence:
“This too shall change.”
Amarjeet