Meditation: You are not the Body

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“You are not the body.”

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Isn’t that what they tell you when you start meditating?

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“You are not the pain.”
“You are not your thoughts.”
“Detach.”
“Transcend.”
“Rise above.”

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So what — ignore what you feel?
Silence your body?
Bypass the signals?

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That never sat right with me.

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The beginning of my spiritual path was confusion.
Too many teachers. Too many methods. Too many “chosen” paths.
And somehow… none of them felt like home.

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Have you ever felt that?
Like everyone claims to know the way —
but nobody can tell you how to find your way?

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Then I met the fake guru.

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He taught me meditation.
His way.

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We traveled to an ashram in India.
We meditated for hours.
Silent rooms. Straight backs. Closed eyes.
Effort. So much effort.

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They said it takes years to shut down the brain.
Years to reach enlightenment.
Years to silence the mind.

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And yes, they always start with “feel your body”…
But very quickly, they guide you out of it.
Above it. Beyond it. Away from it.

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And I kept thinking:

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Why am I trying so hard to leave the very place my soul lives in?

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At one point I even learned to pray like a Muslim.
Movements. Words. Ritual.
And yes — sometimes it felt easier.
Because you just follow instructions.

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But it still wasn’t me.
It was something someone else taught me to do.
Not something that rose from within.

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After the breakup, I stopped meditating completely.
I collapsed inward.
I started questioning everything.

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What did they teach me?
And what do I actually feel?

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During one call, the fake guru said something that woke me up.

“Women don’t need to meditate that much.”

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Excuse me?

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So enlightenment is reserved for men now?
So only if you meditate hard enough, long enough, disciplined enough -
you might reach the goal?

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Every time something came out of his mouth, there was always something hidden underneath.
Control. Superiority. Manipulation dressed as wisdom.

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That day I felt it in my core:

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Fuck you. Don’t tell me how my soul works.

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I’ve always been in research mode.
I will never take someone’s advice as absolute truth for me.

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Never again.

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Here’s the irony.

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My clearest visions don’t come when I sit on a meditation cushion.

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They come when I’m driving.
Alone.
No distractions.
No performance.
No “trying to reach something.”

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Just me and the road.

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Insights drop in like lightning.
Clear. Sharp. Undeniable.

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The only problem?
You can’t write down revelations at 120 km/h.
And yes — I’ve forgotten many of them.
Some genius downloads lost somewhere between exit 12 and the next traffic light.

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But maybe that’s the point.
The real ones come back.

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For a long time, when I did sit down, I refused to go further than breathing.
No scripts.
No guided voices.
No pushing beyond.

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Just breath.

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Because I wasn’t interested in escaping my body anymore.
I wanted to understand it.

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And recently — something shifted.

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I finally felt ready to sit again.
Not to achieve anything.
Not to transcend anything.
Just to feel.

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And maybe that’s it.

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Maybe meditation isn’t about leaving.

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Maybe it’s about listening.

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Listening to the tension in your shoulders.
The knot in your stomach.
The pressure in your chest.
The thoughts that keep you awake at night.

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Tell me this:

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How can you connect with your soul if you’re constantly trying to get out of your body?

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Isn’t the whole point that your soul chose this body?
That it integrates into it?
Lives through it?

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So when they say:

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                  “You are not the body.”

What if that’s the first disconnection?

 

When they say:

 

                  “You are not the pain.”

What if that’s spiritual bypassing?

 

Pain is information.
Tension is intelligence.
Anxiety is a signal.

 

If the driver ignores the engine light long enough,
the car breaks down.

 

Listen to your engine.
Listen to the strange sounds.
The friction.
The heat.

 

Your body is not the enemy.
It’s the instrument.

 

For me, meditation now feels like this:

 

A deep, radical listening.
A ruthless honesty.
A willingness to shut the fuck up and hear what’s already there.

 

Not birds.
Not mantras.
Not someone else’s voice guiding me out.

 

In.

 

Because if you want to hear your soul -
you don’t float away.

 

You go deeper.

 

And yes, you can focus on the outside.
The birds. The wind. The noise of the world.

 

But remember something:

 

You are a reflection of the world.
And the world is a reflection of you.

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The voice within
and the voice without
are the same frequency.

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I think I finally found my definition of meditation.

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Not escaping the body.

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But inhabiting it fully.

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You’re welcome to disagree.
You’re welcome to feel something completely different.

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But this is mine.

 

And this time —
it comes from inside.

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“I didn’t find enlightenment when I left my body.
I found truth when I finally dared to live inside it.”

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