Category: Blog

The cure for self-indulgence is self-discipline. But we do not like discipline. Asceticism is a bad word, and those who recommend it are seen as killjoys.

We live in the most self-indulgent time in world history, and I live in one of the most self-indulgent countries in the world: the United States. We seek comfort, pleasure, and indulgence in all kinds of entertainment. We even make a sport of seeing how much food we can fit in our bellies at all-you-can-eat buffets.

So when I suggest self-discipline, it goes against the grain. The truth is that the self has become our god, and we are enslaved to it. Whatever the self wants, we give it—which is the worst possible thing we can do.

We must deny ourselves and take up our cross. That means we must die to the self. The ego is not a friend but an enemy—a harsh master that destroys our lives and harms those around us. We must resist the ego. We must put it to death. It is the only way to live a spiritual life.

Many of us struggle with our weight. Unfortunately, the food that is available today lacks nutrition but is loaded with calories. It’s engineered to be addictive.

Let’s face it, overeating is one of the hardest addictions to overcome, first of all because you can’t go cold turkey. You have to eat. The key is to eat to live, and not live to eat.

Another problem is that we don’t like to be uncomfortable. And hunger is uncomfortable. Unfortunately, there’s no other way but to embrace the discomfort. The fact is, if you’re not hungry, you’re not in a deficit.

Detach from hunger; let it pass like a cloud. I eat two vegetarian meals a day, and fast between meals. This is called intermittent fasting. The key is not to snack between meals. If you feel hungry, drink some water. Many times we mistake thirst for hunger. And most importantly, if it’s not healthy, don’t eat it.

As always, consult a doctor before starting any weight loss plan.

The path begins with awakening: a break from ordinary, unconscious living. One glimpses the One and senses a fundamental shift. Life is no longer lived on autopilot. Something deeper has been seen, and the journey begins.

Purification follows as a process of inner development. This is not moralism, but alignment: stabilizing attention, reducing craving, and loosening rigid patterns of self. The inner life becomes simpler, clearer, and more intentional.

From this groundwork emerges contemplation. As the mind quiets and refines, resonance with the One deepens. Insight, unity, compassion, and clarity arise—not as external rewards, but as natural expressions of attunement.

Finally, union marks a transformation in how life is lived. It is not an escape from the world, but a new way of being within it. Awareness becomes stable, the sense of self grows transparent, and action flows from a deeper source. The One is no longer something glimpsed, but something lived.

This path is solitary not because others are absent, but because it must be walked directly. No institution or system can substitute for the work itself. The movement is inward, developmental, and ultimately transformative.

The Buddha divided mind-body processes into five heaps or aggregates. These are simple descriptions of experience that can serve as pointers for investigation.

The system begins with Form (rūpa), the domain of physical reality and sensory input. Valence (vedanā) refines “feeling” into affective tone—pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. Perception (saññā) involves recognition and labeling, organizing raw input into meaning.

Dispositional formations (saṅkhārā) include both volitional and cognitive elements, but are linked to choice and karma. They are the thinking and choosing that become our dispositions, habits, and programming. Consciousness (viññāṇa) is awareness of oneself and the world.

Cognition, memory, attention, and conscience are not listed separately; they likely fall within dispositional formations. Remember, these are not five faculties but five groups of processes.

We face a meaning crisis because our inherited map no longer matches reality. Scientific discovery, historical criticism, and philosophical analysis have steadily eroded the credibility of the Christian worldview that once grounded Western civilization. As that foundation weakens, a deeper problem emerges: not just loss of faith, but lack of viable alternatives.

As John Vervaeke suggests, the solution is not a return to what has already failed. Without a new framework—a “sacred canopy”—the spread of meaninglessness will continue. We find ourselves disoriented, like travelers without a map.

So what remains? The responsibility shifts to the individual. In an age where institutions often fail or betray their ideals, spiritual life becomes a personal task. This is the solitary path: not isolation for its own sake, but the recognition that meaning must be cultivated inwardly and lived deliberately.

The “spiritual but not religious” intuition points in this direction. The seeker must take up the work directly, confronting existence without guarantees. One must become spiritually alive first—only then can one genuinely serve others. In a disenchanted world, the path forward is not given. It must be forged.

Pinocchio, a wooden puppet made by Geppetto, wants to become a real boy. Through lies and trouble, he learns honesty and courage, rescues Geppetto from a sea monster, and finally, because he is brave and unselfish, the Blue Fairy turns him into a real child.

We are like Pinocchio: we’re not Real, but we long to be. We are not human beings; we’re human becomings. We are sparks of divinity, the evolving energy of consciousness in the womb of becoming. We are part of “the born, become, made, and conditioned.”

The Blue Fairy gave Pinocchio and us the path to become Real; she says, “Prove yourself brave, truthful and unselfish, and someday you will be a real boy.” This is the purification stage of the Mystic Way. Jiminy Cricket is right: “A conscience is that still small voice that people won’t listen to.”

But morality is only the beginning; contemplation leads us to graze upon Ultimate Reality with our inner eye. We become what we adore, harmonizing with the really Real, which ultimately leads to Nirvana, union with Ultimate Reality. As the Blue Fairy finally says, “Little puppet made of pine, awake. The gift of life is thine.”