Spīrō. Redeō. Memorō. Ergo Sum.
I breathe. I return. I remember. Therefore I am.
I used to think meditation was about clearing my mind.
And for a while… it was.
I chased silence like it was a prize—
as if peace could only begin where thought had been scrubbed clean.
And when I found it, I held it.
Tried to repeat it.
Made it the goal.
But life kept teaching me.
Clearing the mind?
That’s not the destination.
It’s just the doorway.
I. Threshold vs. Portal
Spīrō — I Breathe
To clear the mind is sacred.
It’s the sweep before you enter the temple.
It’s the hush before the concert begins.
It prepares you—
but it’s not what you came for.
The threshold is still.
But the portal… is alive.
So many stop at silence,
thinking it’s the finish line.
But silence was never the point.
It was just the space
something deeper was waiting to fill.
I don’t meditate to get away from thought.
I meditate to make room
for what thought can’t reach.
I breathe.
And in that breath—
I don’t escape.
I arrive.
II. Control vs. Communion
Redeō — I Return
At first, meditation was technique.
Control the breath.
Guide the focus.
Be still.
Return.
And I got good at it.
I could sit for hours in silence,
watching thoughts pass like clouds over water.
I could make my mind a blank slate,
white and wide and waiting.
But then a simple idea wouldn’t leave me:
If there’s so much beauty outside…
why should this slate be blank?
And that—
was me turning the lights on.
I stopped trying to conquer the silence.
I started to listen inside it.
Not to manage.
Not to master.
But to meet
what might be waiting.
Presence isn’t something you perform.
It’s what shows up
when you stop trying to earn it.
III. The Whispers of the Universe
Memorō — I Remember
So what lives
beyond the clearing?
Not always words.
Not commands or answers.
But something.
A whisper.
A knowing.
A phrase that wasn’t mine,
but felt like it had been waiting.
Call it what you like:
-
Intuition
-
Spirit
-
Subconscious truth
-
Divine memory
The whisper doesn’t interrupt.
It doesn’t insist.
It waits.
Clearing makes absence.
Opening invites presence.
You don’t hear it with your ears.
You sense it with your being.
And that—
is remembering.
Not facts.
Truth.
IV. Echoes Across the Traditions
Ergo Sum — Therefore I Am
This isn’t new.
It’s ancient.
The Zen masters didn’t silence the world.
They watched it soften.
Christian mystics stilled the soul—
not to find doctrine,
but to hear the whisper.
Sufi poets became the reed.
The divine played through them.
Even neuroscience knows—
insight doesn’t come from focus.
It comes from openness.
The whisper is older than language.
It lives where words break down.
I breathe.
I return.
I remember.
Not to be empty—
but to become available.
Closing
So no,
I don’t meditate to clear my mind.
I clear it to open the door.
To listen.
To return.
To feel the presence that was always there,
just beneath the noise.
Not a voice.
Not a plan.
Just—
a whisper.
And now,
that’s enough.
Spīrō. Redeō. Memorō.
Not to be, but to become.