Documenting My 2nd Meditation Journey

I’ve been through this before. Years ago, I went full ascetic—meditating too much, shutting out everything else. I was determined to shine past the numb autopilot of my family, to prove I could sit through pain without moving. And in a way, I did. But even after, they played the same human game. At dinners, I couldn’t relate. I felt like an alien at their table. That’s when I pulled away.

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Back then, my meditation was all hammer. All denial. All pain as proof.

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This time is different. I’m in my second meditation journey, and I move through it with life at my side. I’ve already built myself up, crafted my own story alone, proved I can live freely. So I don’t need to punish myself. I allow softness. I snack. I watch movies. I laugh and cry. I train, I recover, I write. I let myself live while still sitting through the fire.

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And here’s the truth: meditation isn’t the goal. Neither is enlightenment, nor chasing mystical experiences. The point isn’t to become someone else. The point is to burn away everything that isn’t me, so that what remains—me in full bloom—can finally stand there, unmasked.

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Pain still comes, yes. But I see it clearly now. Pain is part of the crucible, not the prize. On the other side is freedom. On the other side is clarity. On the other side is presence that can open, love, fuck, build, flourish.

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My life is richer because of this journey, not smaller. And I know this time, when the right people step into my orbit—especially her—I’ll be ready to meet them without hiding, without shame, without pretending.

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This is my sovereign crucible.