• “Who am I in the true sense?”
• “Why am I here?” or “Why do I live?”
• “Where am I going?” or “What remains after me?”
All human suffering revolves around these three questions. We do not know who we are, why we live, and, most of all, we avoid the question of what will happen to us after death.
In everyday life, we invent distractions for ourselves: travel, work, relationships, entertainment — anything to avoid reflecting on these three essential questions.
There are moments when worldly life comes to a halt — in moments of pure sadness, the soul experiences suffering. This suffering is real. It is the soul searching for answers to these questions. One should not run from this state. It needs to be lived through in order to find the keys and the medicine that will heal you.

Thinking. Feeling. Acting.
These are the three pillars, the three foundations upon which all of our human existence rests. Their enlightened aspects are: Dharmakaya, Sambhogakaya, and Nirmanakaya (terms from the tantric tradition).
We are the awareness within these three aspects. Thinking, feeling, and acting are not who we are, but they are part of each of us.
If we imagine that the center of awareness is surrounded by a kind of sphere of mind, then any impulse from outside that enters it generates an unconscious chain of reactions in a person: thought — feeling — action.
The truth is that impulses from outside cannot be stopped; they are part of life, and there is nowhere to hide from them. We encounter an endless stream of such impulses every moment. A person who does not know the nature of their mind gives an automatic reaction to everything that enters this sphere of perception. This is the cycle of karmic reactions, and the unconscious response to them is called “samsara.”
A practitioner who knows the nature of their mind is able to let this impulse pass through without triggering the habitual chain of reactions.
Meditation gives the ability to disidentify from one’s thoughts, feelings, and actions — without rejecting them. Meditation allows you to learn a state in which thoughts, feelings, and actions do not control you; to understand that they are not you, but only a part of you.
This is true freedom — the freedom to consciously choose how to respond to external impulses.

The first sutra of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras states:
“Yoga is chitta vritti nirodha.”
[Chitta — mind; vritti — movement (fluctuation); nirodha — cessation]
In other words, yoga is the ability to restrain the mind — to rein it in, like placing a bridle on a wild, untrained horse. But unlike a horse, which can be physically caught, our mind is elusive. It is unlikely that we can stop the movement of thoughts even for a few moments, especially when the mind is under the influence of strong emotional reactions.
In this case, the possibility of working with the body and energy comes to our aid. When we manage the energy of the body, we manage the flow of breath and open and purify the energy channels (nadis). By regulating the breath, we gain the ability to influence the activity of the mind. As a result, we reach a state of concentration, and then a calm, steady absorption.
But this is only the beginning of lifting the veil of possibilities hidden behind our habitual state. Practice continues until the realization and recognition of the emptiness and luminosity of the mind.
To realize emptiness means to stop falling into attachment, aversion, and fear in relation to the world, and to cease the accumulation of “samskaras” (karmic imprints) through the realization of the illusory nature of the “self.”

Our mind always operates in a mode of duality.
When everything is going well, it is constantly occupied with wanting something — striving to gain, earn, improve, or multiply. In this moment, it is ruled by hope.
When things are bad, dangerous, or frightening, the mind fears losing what it has — property, freedom, food, loved ones, and so on. The mind becomes preoccupied with deprivation and helplessness. In this moment, it is ruled by fear.
As a result, a person is always trapped between two extremes — between hope and fear, between the two hemispheres of the mind: desire and aversion. And this will continue until one attempts to discover within oneself a state that lies between these two and is free from their influence.

Asana, pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, samadhi —
all six of these stages are passed sequentially within each meditation process. Each stage is a consequence of the previous one and naturally flows from it.
At the beginning, the practitioner masters the meditative posture of the body. In Buddhist practices, this is called the posture of Vairocana, and its main feature is the lotus pose with a straight spine.
Of course, when the body is not yet open, a person sits as best as they can, according to their abilities. But gradually, one strives to make the posture as open and internally relaxed as possible. The deeper stages of working with the mind are based on the free flow of the energy channels. The process begins with releasing the hidden energy of the pelvis (the lower centers).
This is achieved through yogic exercises, which gradually lead to the ability to sit freely — without blocks, pain, or tension. After that, the subsequent stages gradually unfold.

Meditation has many qualities and effects. One of the main aspects of meditation is the attainment of mental calm — shamatha.
Our mind is like stirred-up water that needs time for the sediment to settle so the water becomes clear — consciousness becomes lucid. Only in meditation, when obscurations dissolve, do you realize and begin to see the true nature of the mind. The mind and the nature of mind are different. They can be compared to a reflection in a mirror and the mirror’s ability to reflect.
In order to gain the ability to calm the mind, the channels in the body through which prana flows must be purified. Mind, channels, and prana form a single interconnected system. There is no point in separating the brain from the body. A processor will not function if the body is absent — they are interdependent elements of one chain.
If the body is not sufficiently prepared, then during meditation we simply remain in imagination and daydreaming, without the ability to manage the process.

As long as we live unconsciously, the mind pretends to be our friend. But when we enter practice and begin to develop self-observation and immediate presence, the mind instantly becomes our opponent. The mind will always try to distract us with pleasant or unpleasant experiences, emotions, and thoughts. Its task and mechanism are to capture and hold our attention. By our nature, we are pure presence — attention — yet every moment we are captured by the samsaric mind. Our pure, divine presence is covered, like a veil, by maya — the illusion cultivated by our mind. And this illusion has a specific function: to lull us into sleep.
There are various poisons that distract us. Poisons can be obvious or subtle. Such poisons as anger, jealousy, greed, and boredom belong to the obvious ones. When they arise in the mind, they are easy to notice. But there are also subtle poisons, difficult to detect, which are based on positive experiences. It is necessary to develop total, deep attention and self-observation, constantly tracking how our mind operates.
Practice begins only when we internally separate the mind and pure attention and clearly recognize that these are different things, different experiences. Realizing this, we truly step onto the path of practice.
The mind has convinced us that it — its thoughts, its fears, its life — is who we are. But this is only the mechanical nature of the mind.

The path of self-liberation is the path of realizing the true nature of the mind.
A mirror always reflects. Like a mirror, our mind constantly reflects the external world — everything we perceive. A mirror reveals any form, yet none of those forms is the mirror itself.
Nothing that happens outside, to which our mind reacts, is actually our mind. The true mind is the very capacity to reflect.
To enter the path of self-liberation, one must recognize the nature of consciousness and the sense of pure, immediate presence that is neither emotion, nor sound, nor sensation.
When you experience something good or bad, you are in that very moment. Within you, there is no one who could be experiencing it. No one is watching it. There is no one onto whom it can be projected. The experience self-liberates and dissolves on its own.