For much of my life, I thought I had it all figured out. I held tightly to a specific worldview, and I was quick to mock ideas that didn’t align with it. Vegetarianism? Nonsense. Meditation? Woo-woo rubbish for people who weren't tough enough to handle the real world. The very idea of spirituality? A crutch. And those are we being nice. Often the response to those things was far less charitable.
I was certain. I was steadfast. And I was completely wrong.
My story isn't unique, but it's honest. About 12 years ago, life challenged my comfortable convictions. After years of dismissing the concept, I found myself questioning my beliefs and I became a vegetarian. Around the same time, after countless failed attempts, I stumbled across a meditation practice that finally clicked.
That thing I’d once called "woo-woo rubbish" suddenly became the most important tool in my life. It changed everything. It gave me a freedom I never knew was possible: freedom from the constant noise in my own head, freedom from the tyranny of my own anxieties, freedom from the mental pain I thought was just a non-negotiable part of being alive.
These changes taught me something profound. Spirituality isn't about being told what to think or adopting a new set of beliefs. It's the absolute opposite. It's about developing a radical commitment to questioning everything, especially the beliefs you hold most dear.
Spirituality, for me, is the willingness to explore the big questions. What is the self? What is consciousness? Do we have free will? All of these things and more, but without needing a neat and tidy answer from a 2,000-year-old book. It’s the openness to see beyond the boundaries of your current understanding.
Now, this is where people can get tripped up. In my coaching and my meditation classes, I often use methods and language that might sound religious. That’s not because I’m secretly preaching a dogma. It’s because I’m practical.
Think of it like this. A hammer is a tool. You can use it to build a church, a house, or a weapon. The hammer doesn’t care about the blueprint; it just works on the nail. The methods and practices often found within religious containers, meditation, mindfulness and self-inquiry are simply ancient, powerful, and time-tested tools for the human mind. They’ve been refined over millennia by people far wiser than I am. I use them for one reason: they work. I’m interested in the tool and its affectiveness, not the dogma it’s often packaged in.
So, what does a tool like meditation actually do? It’s not about becoming emotionless or escaping from the problems of your life. It's about something much more powerful.
It’s about finding the space between a thought and an action.
It’s about finding the space between a feeling and your reaction to it.
That space, however small it may seem at first, is where your freedom lives. That’s where you stop being a puppet, jerked around by every random thought, emotion, and craving. That’s where you learn to respond with wisdom instead of reacting from habit. In that quiet space, you discover a sense of calm and resilience you never thought was possible. You stop being the victim of your own mind and start becoming its calm observer.
This isn't about blindly following anyone's path, especially not mine. It's about being willing to challenge your own. It’s about recognising that if you keep thinking and acting in the exact same way, you are guaranteed to get the exact same outcomes. Real change begins with openness and asking difficult questions.
Here is your work.
Step 1: Confront One of Your Certainties.
What is one thing you believe about yourself with absolute, unshakeable certainty? It could be anything. "I'm not a creative person." "I'm too old to change careers." "I'm just an anxious person." Pick one.
Step 2: Ask, "Is That Absolutely True?"
You don't need to find a new belief to replace it. Your only task is to question the old one. Sit with your certainty for a moment and just ask, "Is that 100% true? Has there ever been a single moment where it wasn't true?" Your goal isn't to find an answer. It's to create a tiny crack in the prison wall of your own dogma.
Step 3: Conduct a Two-Minute Experiment.
Don't worry about "meditating correctly." Just try this. Sit in a chair, close your eyes, and for two minutes, your only job is to notice your own breath. That's it. When your mind wanders into thoughts about work, or dinner, or anything else (and it will, that's what minds do), your job is to gently, without judgment, guide your attention back to the feeling of your breath. This isn't a mystical act. It's a practical exercise in finding that space between you and the noise of your mind.
You don't need to search for answers. You need to get better at asking questions. The answers will always change. The freedom you find in the search is the only thing that lasts.