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Alexander den Heijer

Alexander den Heijer

Author, speaker

Alexander den Heijer front

Alexander's Books

Finding what was never lost front cover

Finding what was never lost

A pocket guide for spiritual insight and inspiration

Nothing you don't already know front cover

Nothing you don't already know

Remarkable reminders about meaning, purpose, and self-realization

Reviews

"ESSENTIAL WISDOM FOR THE 21st CENTURY"

Pam Roy, co-founder Viktor Frankl Institute of America

""Finding What Was Never Lost" is more than a book; it is a mirror reflecting our deepest, most authentic self."

Miki Reimann, Artist

"I searched my whole life for this book."

Amazon customer, Canada

This was one of the most memorable business trips I’ve ever experienced. I had the honor of being invited as a guest author at one of the world’s largest book fairs in Sharjah UAE @sharjahbookauthority. It was my first business trip to the Middle East, and I was blown away by the incredible hospitality, the warmth of the people, and the remarkable places I had the privilege to visit.

During the event, I participated in book signing sessions, a live radio interview with @pulse95radio, a panel discussion with @tamreezi on leading through change, and I also gave a talk to students at @skylineuniversity about success, humility, and stillness. Beyond the fair, we explored the region through activities like a desert safari with fellow guest authors.

A highlight for me was exchanging books with @steven. I also met other wonderful guests such as @tastingmindfulness, @kalsumachoudhry and her family, @realhamzaaliabbasi and @lkrauss1 .

I’m deeply grateful to the @sharjahbookauthority but most of all to @theemultiartist for this unforgettable invitation. A special thanks to @skylineuniversity for hosting my talk and to @pullmansharjah for the wonderful stay.

This was one of the most memorable business trips I’ve ever experienced. I had the honor of being invited as a guest author at one of the world’s largest book fairs in Sharjah UAE @sharjahbookauthority. It was my first business trip to the Middle East, and I was blown away by the incredible hospitality, the warmth of the people, and the remarkable places I had the privilege to visit.

During the event, I participated in book signing sessions, a live radio interview with @pulse95radio, a panel discussion with @tamreezi on leading through change, and I also gave a talk to students at @skylineuniversity about success, humility, and stillness. Beyond the fair, we explored the region through activities like a desert safari with fellow guest authors.

A highlight for me was exchanging books with @steven. I also met other wonderful guests such as @tastingmindfulness, @kalsumachoudhry and her family, @realhamzaaliabbasi and @lkrauss1 .

I’m deeply grateful to the @sharjahbookauthority but most of all to @theemultiartist for this unforgettable invitation. A special thanks to @skylineuniversity for hosting my talk and to @pullmansharjah for the wonderful stay.

Be firm and intentional in choosing your direction, but don’t cling to a particular path.

Be fully engaged in each moment, without attachment to how things should be.

Be like a mirror, reflect all that comes before you, but hold on to nothing.

Enjoy success as it comes, but don’t cling to it—because it will fade. Endure hardship with a calm heart, for even that too shall pass.

When you fall in love, stay present. When your heart breaks, stay present too. Feel the emotions, but drop the stories the mind produces.

Every moment, every event, is a fleeting expression of the present, like footprints in the sand.

The only thing that remains is the silent witness within—the ever-present ‘I am.’

Open your heart and let life move you. Keep showing up, all the while understanding this truth: the images on the screen change, but the screen itself remains unchanged—always present, always free.

Be firm and intentional in choosing your direction, but don’t cling to a particular path.

Be fully engaged in each moment, without attachment to how things should be.

Be like a mirror, reflect all that comes before you, but hold on to nothing.

Enjoy success as it comes, but don’t cling to it—because it will fade. Endure hardship with a calm heart, for even that too shall pass.

When you fall in love, stay present. When your heart breaks, stay present too. Feel the emotions, but drop the stories the mind produces.

Every moment, every event, is a fleeting expression of the present, like footprints in the sand.

The only thing that remains is the silent witness within—the ever-present ‘I am.’

Open your heart and let life move you. Keep showing up, all the while understanding this truth: the images on the screen change, but the screen itself remains unchanged—always present, always free.

The irony of the spiritual path is that we tend to search everywhere for ourselves except right here. As long as we seek, we dismiss the here and now. Once we see it, we dismiss the search.

The irony of the spiritual path is that we tend to search everywhere for ourselves except right here. As long as we seek, we dismiss the here and now. Once we see it, we dismiss the search.

I once asked my mentor what he saw as the purpose of life. He pointed at a flower and said, “The purpose of this flower is to freely be a flower.” Then he pointed at a bee and said, “The purpose of that bee is to freely be a bee.”

I didn’t understand a word of what my mentor said at the time. For many years I had been searching for my why, this great purpose that would make my life worth living. I even gave talks and workshops about finding your why.

Only many years later, after meditating in complete silence for more than seven days in a retreat in Belgium, my mind became so quiet that, at some point, I became aware of a subtle and quiet joy within my own being—the sheer joy of simply being alive. At that moment, it struck me that what I had been looking for my whole life had been with me all along. It was as if I had come home. I came home to the desire to simply live. It felt so simple and yet so profound.

It reminded me of something Meister Eckhart once wrote: “If anyone went on for a thousand years asking life, ‘Why live?’ life, if it could answer, would only say ‘I live so that I may live.’ That is because life lives out of its own ground and springs from its own source, and so it lives without asking why it is living.”

It made me realize that life doesn’t need a reason to justify its existence; it simply is. In that simplicity lies its beauty and freedom—the freedom of the flower and the bee. Living without a “why” invites us to step out of the mind’s endless search for meaning and to surrender to the present moment. It invites us to simply open up to life: to connect, to engage, and to play. The meaning is right there, in the connection to the flow of life. For many years I had been searching for my life’s purpose, as if it was some special thing that I needed to find. But it has been there all along.

As Alan Watts said, “It was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing and to dance while the music was being played.”

I once asked my mentor what he saw as the purpose of life. He pointed at a flower and said, “The purpose of this flower is to freely be a flower.” Then he pointed at a bee and said, “The purpose of that bee is to freely be a bee.”

I didn’t understand a word of what my mentor said at the time. For many years I had been searching for my why, this great purpose that would make my life worth living. I even gave talks and workshops about finding your why.

Only many years later, after meditating in complete silence for more than seven days in a retreat in Belgium, my mind became so quiet that, at some point, I became aware of a subtle and quiet joy within my own being—the sheer joy of simply being alive. At that moment, it struck me that what I had been looking for my whole life had been with me all along. It was as if I had come home. I came home to the desire to simply live. It felt so simple and yet so profound.

It reminded me of something Meister Eckhart once wrote: “If anyone went on for a thousand years asking life, ‘Why live?’ life, if it could answer, would only say ‘I live so that I may live.’ That is because life lives out of its own ground and springs from its own source, and so it lives without asking why it is living.”

It made me realize that life doesn’t need a reason to justify its existence; it simply is. In that simplicity lies its beauty and freedom—the freedom of the flower and the bee. Living without a “why” invites us to step out of the mind’s endless search for meaning and to surrender to the present moment. It invites us to simply open up to life: to connect, to engage, and to play. The meaning is right there, in the connection to the flow of life. For many years I had been searching for my life’s purpose, as if it was some special thing that I needed to find. But it has been there all along.

As Alan Watts said, “It was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing and to dance while the music was being played.”

Is it a coincidence that this post was planned for today? In an age of rising polarization, it’s vital to contemplate the nature of division. Separateness is largely a construct of the left hemisphere of the brain. It divides reality into categories—friend and foe, right and wrong. It can only understand either / or. Such oppositions are human inventions that obscure our ability to see others in their full humanity, leading us to project mental images onto them. We no longer see another human being; we see an abstraction.

Modern science is slowly catching up with ancient wisdom, revealing the fundamental interconnectedness of existence. The Newtonian worldview, which sees the world as separate objects in motion, is losing ground. With the advent of quantum mechanics and relativity in the 20th century, science is beginning to show that everything is connected to everything else. To harm another is to harm oneself.

In religious symbolism, the tendency to create division is seen as a trick played on us by the devil. As C.S. Lewis noted, “The devil always sends errors into the world in pairs of opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one.”

It is heartbreaking to see how many people today are lured into this game. When we engage in it, we’re quickly drawn into conflict and extremes, not realizing that we are gradually becoming the very thing we think we’re opposing.

How can we break free from this madness? Eckhart Tolle writes in A New Earth, “To recognize one’s own insanity is, of course, the arising of sanity, the beginning of healing and transcendence.” When we become aware of our insanity, we can transcend it.

To transcend a pair of opposites, we need a so-called transcendent third. This is what the light of consciousness is; that which is aware of the divide is itself undivided. That is our true center.

From this center, we have a choice. What choice? The choice to participate in the Divine instead of the divide. From here, we can choose to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Is it a coincidence that this post was planned for today? In an age of rising polarization, it’s vital to contemplate the nature of division. Separateness is largely a construct of the left hemisphere of the brain. It divides reality into categories—friend and foe, right and wrong. It can only understand either / or. Such oppositions are human inventions that obscure our ability to see others in their full humanity, leading us to project mental images onto them. We no longer see another human being; we see an abstraction.

Modern science is slowly catching up with ancient wisdom, revealing the fundamental interconnectedness of existence. The Newtonian worldview, which sees the world as separate objects in motion, is losing ground. With the advent of quantum mechanics and relativity in the 20th century, science is beginning to show that everything is connected to everything else. To harm another is to harm oneself.

In religious symbolism, the tendency to create division is seen as a trick played on us by the devil. As C.S. Lewis noted, “The devil always sends errors into the world in pairs of opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one.”

It is heartbreaking to see how many people today are lured into this game. When we engage in it, we’re quickly drawn into conflict and extremes, not realizing that we are gradually becoming the very thing we think we’re opposing.

How can we break free from this madness? Eckhart Tolle writes in A New Earth, “To recognize one’s own insanity is, of course, the arising of sanity, the beginning of healing and transcendence.” When we become aware of our insanity, we can transcend it.

To transcend a pair of opposites, we need a so-called transcendent third. This is what the light of consciousness is; that which is aware of the divide is itself undivided. That is our true center.

From this center, we have a choice. What choice? The choice to participate in the Divine instead of the divide. From here, we can choose to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Maturity is deeply tied to responsibility - the ability to respond with awareness, rather than reacting blindly. When we react, we’re often acting out of conditioning, driven by automatic habits or unresolved emotions. Reactions are fast, fueled by craving or agitation, and often perpetuate suffering. A reaction arises when we resist a situation as it is.

A response, however, is different. It arises from acceptance - a state of inner freedom where we embrace reality as it is, without losing our power to make a difference. Acceptance doesn’t mean passivity; it means cooperating with reality from a place of wholeness, bringing clarity and intention to our actions.

This kind of acceptance also invites us to let go of the need to control outcomes, to respond without grasping, and to act without attachment to results. True responsibility, then, is not only about responding with awareness but also about trusting in the process, showing up to life with receptivity, non-attachment, and presence.

From this place, we can uphold healthy boundaries, act with empathy without losing ourselves, and meet each moment with full awareness. This requires not only integrating our shadow, so we don’t project it onto others, but also becoming deeply attuned to our body as the instrument through which we engage with reality. As Nietzsche said, ‘There’s more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy.’

When we are present and attuned to our body’s wisdom, our actions create harmony rather than discord. True responsibility is about showing up to life with openness, integrity, and presence.

Maturity is deeply tied to responsibility - the ability to respond with awareness, rather than reacting blindly. When we react, we’re often acting out of conditioning, driven by automatic habits or unresolved emotions. Reactions are fast, fueled by craving or agitation, and often perpetuate suffering. A reaction arises when we resist a situation as it is.

A response, however, is different. It arises from acceptance - a state of inner freedom where we embrace reality as it is, without losing our power to make a difference. Acceptance doesn’t mean passivity; it means cooperating with reality from a place of wholeness, bringing clarity and intention to our actions.

This kind of acceptance also invites us to let go of the need to control outcomes, to respond without grasping, and to act without attachment to results. True responsibility, then, is not only about responding with awareness but also about trusting in the process, showing up to life with receptivity, non-attachment, and presence.

From this place, we can uphold healthy boundaries, act with empathy without losing ourselves, and meet each moment with full awareness. This requires not only integrating our shadow, so we don’t project it onto others, but also becoming deeply attuned to our body as the instrument through which we engage with reality. As Nietzsche said, ‘There’s more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy.’

When we are present and attuned to our body’s wisdom, our actions create harmony rather than discord. True responsibility is about showing up to life with openness, integrity, and presence.

In a world where Kronos—the clock—rules our lives, the spirit often feels stifled. This is especially true in corporate life, where time is seen as a resource that must be utilized maximally, leaving little room for the mind to wander or create. It’s no surprise that creative people rarely flourish in corporate jobs that are too structured. Too much order suffocates the creative spirit.

To find deep inspiration, we also need Kairos; we need unplanned time to play, connect, dream, and explore. Successful people and organizations know how to balance Kronos and Kairos.

Tell me, if every week is planned down to the last detail, when does your soul have space to breathe? When do you hear your inner voice—the one that doesn’t care about the clock?

Dutch physicist Erik Verlinde offers a perfect example. His breakthrough idea about the elastic universe came while on holiday. After a break-in left him without a laptop or phone, he was forced to unplug, spending a few extra days by the beach. In that unplanned space, his mind began connecting ideas, leading to one of his greatest insights.

To bind our lives fully to the clock is to suffocate the spirit. Real inspiration flourishes in the gaps—in those timeless moments untouched by our tight schedules.

In a world where Kronos—the clock—rules our lives, the spirit often feels stifled. This is especially true in corporate life, where time is seen as a resource that must be utilized maximally, leaving little room for the mind to wander or create. It’s no surprise that creative people rarely flourish in corporate jobs that are too structured. Too much order suffocates the creative spirit.

To find deep inspiration, we also need Kairos; we need unplanned time to play, connect, dream, and explore. Successful people and organizations know how to balance Kronos and Kairos.

Tell me, if every week is planned down to the last detail, when does your soul have space to breathe? When do you hear your inner voice—the one that doesn’t care about the clock?

Dutch physicist Erik Verlinde offers a perfect example. His breakthrough idea about the elastic universe came while on holiday. After a break-in left him without a laptop or phone, he was forced to unplug, spending a few extra days by the beach. In that unplanned space, his mind began connecting ideas, leading to one of his greatest insights.

To bind our lives fully to the clock is to suffocate the spirit. Real inspiration flourishes in the gaps—in those timeless moments untouched by our tight schedules.

In time, peace cannot be found.
In expectation, it is suspended.
In seeking it, it is denied.
In surrender, it is right here.

In time, peace cannot be found.
In expectation, it is suspended.
In seeking it, it is denied.
In surrender, it is right here.

There are two kinds of suffering—often called inauthentic and authentic suffering, or pseudo pain and real pain.

Inauthentic suffering can be seen in neurosis, as Jung said, ‘Neurosis is always a substitute for legitimate suffering.’ It’s a way of masking real suffering, avoiding deeper wounds. In contrast, authentic suffering is like grief—it’s painful but necessary for healing and transformation.

Inauthentic suffering arises when we flee from our task, avoiding what life asks of us. Unfortunately, the more we flee, the more it follows us. Authentic suffering comes from facing our task directly. When we flee, we imprison ourselves; when we face it, we free ourselves.”

There are two kinds of suffering—often called inauthentic and authentic suffering, or pseudo pain and real pain.

Inauthentic suffering can be seen in neurosis, as Jung said, ‘Neurosis is always a substitute for legitimate suffering.’ It’s a way of masking real suffering, avoiding deeper wounds. In contrast, authentic suffering is like grief—it’s painful but necessary for healing and transformation.

Inauthentic suffering arises when we flee from our task, avoiding what life asks of us. Unfortunately, the more we flee, the more it follows us. Authentic suffering comes from facing our task directly. When we flee, we imprison ourselves; when we face it, we free ourselves.”

From my book Finding what was never lost. Have you already read it? If so, what is your favorite quote? #linkinbio

From my book Finding what was never lost. Have you already read it? If so, what is your favorite quote? #linkinbio

A spiritual practice can be seen as the process of expanding the container within which we hold life’s challenges.

As we grow spiritually, our consciousness expands, creating more spaciousness around our day-to-day challenges. By enhancing our ability to remain equanimous in the face of these challenges, our relationship with them transforms. We become less attached to how we want things to be and more open and accepting of how things are. Our attitude shifts from resistance to cooperation with the inevitable.

Another aspect of spiritual growth is that it deepens our connection to the world. Our sense of separateness dissolves. This is felt as being carried by something greater than ourselves, rather than having to carry something greater than ourselves. This recognition lightens the burdens we bear.

In the end, spiritual growth may not change the number of problems we face; it changes our relationship to them. In other words, spiritual growth doesn’t remove our challenges; it removes our resistance.

As the Zen saying goes, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”

A spiritual practice can be seen as the process of expanding the container within which we hold life’s challenges.

As we grow spiritually, our consciousness expands, creating more spaciousness around our day-to-day challenges. By enhancing our ability to remain equanimous in the face of these challenges, our relationship with them transforms. We become less attached to how we want things to be and more open and accepting of how things are. Our attitude shifts from resistance to cooperation with the inevitable.

Another aspect of spiritual growth is that it deepens our connection to the world. Our sense of separateness dissolves. This is felt as being carried by something greater than ourselves, rather than having to carry something greater than ourselves. This recognition lightens the burdens we bear.

In the end, spiritual growth may not change the number of problems we face; it changes our relationship to them. In other words, spiritual growth doesn’t remove our challenges; it removes our resistance.

As the Zen saying goes, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”

When we face deep pain, loss, or despair, our instinct is often to fight or escape. But in doing so, we only deepen our resistance, and what we resist persists. A lot of our suffering is the result of our unwillingness to sit with our pain.

Growth comes not from escaping our pain, but from facing it. Instead of splitting off to survive—numbing or avoiding—we move toward wholeness by fully containing our experience. Here’s the secret: In containing an experience, we realize we are greater than it.

This isn’t about giving up on improving a difficult life situation or surrendering our inner strength. Quite the opposite, it’s about reclaiming it. It is in refusing to take up our cross that we suffer; by taking it up, we find our strength.

The strongest person is not the one who can defeat adversity, but the one who can contain it without being controlled by it. This is perhaps best expressed by Jiddu Krishnamurti, when people asked him about his secret. He replied, ‘I don’t mind what happens.’ In other words, whether things come together or fall apart, can you stay grounded, keep your heart open, and your head up?

Eventually, our darkest nights don’t ask to be defeated; they ask to be befriended. It’s in making peace with the dark that it ceases to have power over us.

When we face deep pain, loss, or despair, our instinct is often to fight or escape. But in doing so, we only deepen our resistance, and what we resist persists. A lot of our suffering is the result of our unwillingness to sit with our pain.

Growth comes not from escaping our pain, but from facing it. Instead of splitting off to survive—numbing or avoiding—we move toward wholeness by fully containing our experience. Here’s the secret: In containing an experience, we realize we are greater than it.

This isn’t about giving up on improving a difficult life situation or surrendering our inner strength. Quite the opposite, it’s about reclaiming it. It is in refusing to take up our cross that we suffer; by taking it up, we find our strength.

The strongest person is not the one who can defeat adversity, but the one who can contain it without being controlled by it. This is perhaps best expressed by Jiddu Krishnamurti, when people asked him about his secret. He replied, ‘I don’t mind what happens.’ In other words, whether things come together or fall apart, can you stay grounded, keep your heart open, and your head up?

Eventually, our darkest nights don’t ask to be defeated; they ask to be befriended. It’s in making peace with the dark that it ceases to have power over us.

Due to my work I get to visit many spiritual circles. I’ve noticed a pattern in spiritual circles that fascinates me. In places where a kind of ‘love and light’ spirituality is promoted most passionately, there’s usually an undercurrent of passive aggressiveness and resentment. How is this possible?

Every time we try to exclude one side of a polarity, it turns up in unhealthy ways. Take anger for example. It’s often seen as negative. Therefor, we are told to ‘raise our frequency’ - to replace it with compassion. But is that always the healthiest path?

When we rush to transcend our anger without acknowledging it, we risk falling into spiritual bypass—hiding our anger behind a mask of compassion. This leads to passive aggressiveness, resentment, fake kindness, cognitive dissonance, or even depression.

True spirituality isn’t about excluding the dark; it’s about integrating it. We can only become genuinely compassionate when we understand and befriend our own darkness. In authentic spirituality, we are invited to observe our anger without suppressing or feeding it. Sit with it. Learn from it. It’s not the anger itself, but how we respond to it that is often problematic.

For example, if you’re resentful, it could be that someone hurts you and you have to speak up. It could also be that you’re resentful because a part of you is immature, which means you have to grow up. Therefor it’s helpful to explore our dark thoughts and emotions, for they are sign posts.

So next time anger surfaces, don’t hide it behind a facade of ‘love and light.’ Honor it, but don’t give it free reign. As the Bible says, “Be angry, yet do not sin.” Reflect and act truthfully, but do so in a constructive, not destructive, way. Integration, not dissociation, is the path to wholeness.

“Anyone can become angry... but to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way—that is not easy.” - Aristotle

Due to my work I get to visit many spiritual circles. I’ve noticed a pattern in spiritual circles that fascinates me. In places where a kind of ‘love and light’ spirituality is promoted most passionately, there’s usually an undercurrent of passive aggressiveness and resentment. How is this possible?

Every time we try to exclude one side of a polarity, it turns up in unhealthy ways. Take anger for example. It’s often seen as negative. Therefor, we are told to ‘raise our frequency’ - to replace it with compassion. But is that always the healthiest path?

When we rush to transcend our anger without acknowledging it, we risk falling into spiritual bypass—hiding our anger behind a mask of compassion. This leads to passive aggressiveness, resentment, fake kindness, cognitive dissonance, or even depression.

True spirituality isn’t about excluding the dark; it’s about integrating it. We can only become genuinely compassionate when we understand and befriend our own darkness. In authentic spirituality, we are invited to observe our anger without suppressing or feeding it. Sit with it. Learn from it. It’s not the anger itself, but how we respond to it that is often problematic.

For example, if you’re resentful, it could be that someone hurts you and you have to speak up. It could also be that you’re resentful because a part of you is immature, which means you have to grow up. Therefor it’s helpful to explore our dark thoughts and emotions, for they are sign posts.

So next time anger surfaces, don’t hide it behind a facade of ‘love and light.’ Honor it, but don’t give it free reign. As the Bible says, “Be angry, yet do not sin.” Reflect and act truthfully, but do so in a constructive, not destructive, way. Integration, not dissociation, is the path to wholeness.

“Anyone can become angry... but to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way—that is not easy.” - Aristotle

Tag someone below who has inspired you recently👇

Tag someone below who has inspired you recently👇

On the spiritual path, the idea of arrival is a trap. It’s a trap I know well and still fall into from time to time. There is no destination, no final answer. The moment we think we have the answer is the moment we stop truly listening.

The path is not about arriving anywhere — it’s about walking with an open heart and a quiet mind. Thinking we’ve figured it out closes the door to deeper realizations.

The mind wants to grasp, to define, to know. But in this need for certainty, we lose the spaciousness that allows truth to emerge. Spirituality is not a puzzle to solve nor a destination to reach. The point isn’t to seek closure but to remain open — to be receptive to the continuous unfolding of life’s mysteries.

Jiddu Krishnamurti said, “A mind that is full of conclusions is a dead mind. A living mind is a free mind — learning, never concluding.” When we say, “I know,” our minds become rigid. In that rigidity, we block the flow of life, leaving no room for new insights to enter. Real wisdom is recognizing that there is always more to see, more to let go of, and more to include.

The moment you think you’ve found the way is the moment you have already gone astray. To think you have arrived is to invite trouble.

Remember, only a true master realizes that he is always a beginner.

On the spiritual path, the idea of arrival is a trap. It’s a trap I know well and still fall into from time to time. There is no destination, no final answer. The moment we think we have the answer is the moment we stop truly listening.

The path is not about arriving anywhere — it’s about walking with an open heart and a quiet mind. Thinking we’ve figured it out closes the door to deeper realizations.

The mind wants to grasp, to define, to know. But in this need for certainty, we lose the spaciousness that allows truth to emerge. Spirituality is not a puzzle to solve nor a destination to reach. The point isn’t to seek closure but to remain open — to be receptive to the continuous unfolding of life’s mysteries.

Jiddu Krishnamurti said, “A mind that is full of conclusions is a dead mind. A living mind is a free mind — learning, never concluding.” When we say, “I know,” our minds become rigid. In that rigidity, we block the flow of life, leaving no room for new insights to enter. Real wisdom is recognizing that there is always more to see, more to let go of, and more to include.

The moment you think you’ve found the way is the moment you have already gone astray. To think you have arrived is to invite trouble.

Remember, only a true master realizes that he is always a beginner.

We spend so much of our lives striving to become someone—someone important, successful, loved. But chasing external validation only distances us from true happiness. The ego—this illusory identity with its constant need to prove and solidify itself—only creates suffering because it is never satisfied.

We paint a picture of ourselves in our minds and try to live up to that. Sometimes we might succeed and feel satisfied; other times we don’t, and we feel devastated. But the one who sees through the illusion will be liberated.

Where society promotes becoming somebody as the way to happiness, I am here to promote the opposite. This message is in praise of no one.

No one is free from constant comparison. No one is free from the pressure to prove himself. No one is free from the fear of not being enough. No one is liberated. No one is truly happy. No one simply is. Be no one.

We spend so much of our lives striving to become someone—someone important, successful, loved. But chasing external validation only distances us from true happiness. The ego—this illusory identity with its constant need to prove and solidify itself—only creates suffering because it is never satisfied.

We paint a picture of ourselves in our minds and try to live up to that. Sometimes we might succeed and feel satisfied; other times we don’t, and we feel devastated. But the one who sees through the illusion will be liberated.

Where society promotes becoming somebody as the way to happiness, I am here to promote the opposite. This message is in praise of no one.

No one is free from constant comparison. No one is free from the pressure to prove himself. No one is free from the fear of not being enough. No one is liberated. No one is truly happy. No one simply is. Be no one.

A page from my book Finding What Was Never Lost

How comfortable are you with not knowing?

#Findingwhatwasneverlost #notknowing

A page from my book Finding What Was Never Lost

How comfortable are you with not knowing?

#Findingwhatwasneverlost #notknowing

When we start seeing life through the lens of spiritual growth, there are no longer “good” or “bad” situations—only experiences that enable us to learn.

A tough conversation with a friend might teach us patience and understanding. A work setback can remind us to let go of control and trust the process. Even moments of joy can be lessons, teaching us non-attachment.

It’s not about avoiding hard times or chasing only happiness. It’s about realizing that everything—whether it feels easy or tough—is a chance for us to become wiser, more mature versions of ourselves.

So next time life throws something at you, ask yourself: “How can I grow from this?” Because when we approach every experience as a chance to grow, life becomes a meaningful journey instead of a series of ups and downs.

Meditation is my main practice, what is yours?

When we start seeing life through the lens of spiritual growth, there are no longer “good” or “bad” situations—only experiences that enable us to learn.

A tough conversation with a friend might teach us patience and understanding. A work setback can remind us to let go of control and trust the process. Even moments of joy can be lessons, teaching us non-attachment.

It’s not about avoiding hard times or chasing only happiness. It’s about realizing that everything—whether it feels easy or tough—is a chance for us to become wiser, more mature versions of ourselves.

So next time life throws something at you, ask yourself: “How can I grow from this?” Because when we approach every experience as a chance to grow, life becomes a meaningful journey instead of a series of ups and downs.

Meditation is my main practice, what is yours?

Over the past few months, I have gained a few profound insights into humility. I have learned that humility isn’t about diminishing yourself—it’s about knowing your worth without attachment to external validation. It comes from understanding that our ego is not to be inflated or defended—it’s an illusion to be seen through. Genuine humility is the quiet confidence that comes from knowing you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.

When we cultivate humility, we become less vulnerable to other people’s opinions of us. Criticism, flattery, and rejection lose their power over us because our sense of self no longer depends on recognition or approval. What we fully accept within ourselves can never be weaponized against us. When we fully embrace ourselves, nothing can be held against us.

Proud people, on the other hand, live on edge. They’re constantly triggered by even the smallest challenge to their image. Their ego is fragile because they rely on approval and recognition to feel secure. But humility sets you free—free from the fear of being judged or looked down upon, free from the pressure to impress others, and liberated from the heavy burden of trying to live according to an image.

When we are triggered, the immediate impulse is to blame the trigger. Yet, it is more fruitful to turn inward and ask, ‘What aspect of myself am I defending? What image am I trying to maintain that feels under threat? What would happen if I let go of this image entirely?’

Humility breeds true confidence—the kind that doesn’t need to shout. Pride creates a false sense of confidence, one that’s easily shaken. The more humble we become, the more grounded we are. We’re no longer on an emotional rollercoaster, rising with praise and crashing with criticism. No longer trapped in the pendulum between ego inflation and ego deflation. Instead, we’re anchored in being. Unshaken. Immune to the highs and lows that rule the proud.

Say YES if this resonates.

Over the past few months, I have gained a few profound insights into humility. I have learned that humility isn’t about diminishing yourself—it’s about knowing your worth without attachment to external validation. It comes from understanding that our ego is not to be inflated or defended—it’s an illusion to be seen through. Genuine humility is the quiet confidence that comes from knowing you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.

When we cultivate humility, we become less vulnerable to other people’s opinions of us. Criticism, flattery, and rejection lose their power over us because our sense of self no longer depends on recognition or approval. What we fully accept within ourselves can never be weaponized against us. When we fully embrace ourselves, nothing can be held against us.

Proud people, on the other hand, live on edge. They’re constantly triggered by even the smallest challenge to their image. Their ego is fragile because they rely on approval and recognition to feel secure. But humility sets you free—free from the fear of being judged or looked down upon, free from the pressure to impress others, and liberated from the heavy burden of trying to live according to an image.

When we are triggered, the immediate impulse is to blame the trigger. Yet, it is more fruitful to turn inward and ask, ‘What aspect of myself am I defending? What image am I trying to maintain that feels under threat? What would happen if I let go of this image entirely?’

Humility breeds true confidence—the kind that doesn’t need to shout. Pride creates a false sense of confidence, one that’s easily shaken. The more humble we become, the more grounded we are. We’re no longer on an emotional rollercoaster, rising with praise and crashing with criticism. No longer trapped in the pendulum between ego inflation and ego deflation. Instead, we’re anchored in being. Unshaken. Immune to the highs and lows that rule the proud.

Say YES if this resonates.

The story of Icarus reminds us that hubris often precedes the fall. Ignoring all warnings, Icarus flew too close to the sun and crashed. Yet, as William Blake wisely observed, “No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.” This suggests that while ambition isn’t inherently dangerous, it can become troubling when driven by pride rather than humility.

Life tends to humble those who resist humility, but a fall isn’t always the end of the story. Sometimes, it marks the beginning of a new chapter—one where we let go of pride. Sometimes, a breakdown leads to the breaking of a new dawn, where we rise with greater humility and a renewed appreciation for life—like a Phoenix rising from its ashes.

Being humbled may bruise the ego, but it also has the power to heal the soul. A shell that cannot break cannot open. As the cracks form in our self-image, the light of the true Self shines through.

As the Bible says, “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” This exaltation, born of humility, often manifests as grace.

Life’s humbling moments are meant to make us better, not bitter. They are invitations to realign with truth, goodness, and beauty. By transforming our attitude into gratitude, we can soar with our own, authentic wings. Pride may take us high, but it’s only when we are lifted by grace that we discover how far we can truly go.

The story of Icarus reminds us that hubris often precedes the fall. Ignoring all warnings, Icarus flew too close to the sun and crashed. Yet, as William Blake wisely observed, “No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.” This suggests that while ambition isn’t inherently dangerous, it can become troubling when driven by pride rather than humility.

Life tends to humble those who resist humility, but a fall isn’t always the end of the story. Sometimes, it marks the beginning of a new chapter—one where we let go of pride. Sometimes, a breakdown leads to the breaking of a new dawn, where we rise with greater humility and a renewed appreciation for life—like a Phoenix rising from its ashes.

Being humbled may bruise the ego, but it also has the power to heal the soul. A shell that cannot break cannot open. As the cracks form in our self-image, the light of the true Self shines through.

As the Bible says, “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” This exaltation, born of humility, often manifests as grace.

Life’s humbling moments are meant to make us better, not bitter. They are invitations to realign with truth, goodness, and beauty. By transforming our attitude into gratitude, we can soar with our own, authentic wings. Pride may take us high, but it’s only when we are lifted by grace that we discover how far we can truly go.

In a world where one in four adults feels lonely, we often assume that being around others will solve this. But loneliness isn’t about how many people are in our lives; it’s about a lack of intimacy. People can feel deeply lonely even in relationships or when surrounded by family and friends.

At its core, the loneliness pandemic is about disconnection—from each other, nature, the Divine, and even ourselves. At the heart of this disconnection is a lack of intimacy.

Intimacy exists on a spectrum. On one end, there’s existential loneliness—a state where we feel separate from the world, like an object among other objects. It’s when the ego is fully enclosed in itself. On the other end is enlightenment—a deep realization of our oneness with existence, like a wave that realizes its oneness with the ocean. As Zen master Dogen put it, “Enlightenment is intimacy with all things.”

So, what is intimacy, and why is it so vital? Intimacy is more than physical closeness. True intimacy is a deep emotional and spiritual connection—with ourselves, others, the world around us, and even with the task at hand. Intimacy inspires the soul; it breathes life into us. But intimacy demands vulnerability. Without opening our hearts, there can be no intimacy.

It’s often said that solitude is the antidote to loneliness. Why? By moving away from the noise of society, we reconnect with ourselves and the present moment. The quieter we become, the more we hear the whispers of our soul. This doesn’t mean we should permanently live on a mountaintop or in a desert. As Meister Eckhart said, “We must learn to acquire an inward desert, wherever we are.”

We must cultivate an inner stillness from which we can connect to our surroundings. When we are deeply connected to ourselves we can deeply connect to others. Loneliness fades not with more people, but with deeper, more meaningful connections. The cure lies in revealing ourselves, embracing vulnerability, and fostering connections that awaken our souls.

The extent to which we are able to open up, be receptive, and connect to ourselves and others is the extent to which we move away from loneliness. For the opposite of loneliness is intimacy.

In a world where one in four adults feels lonely, we often assume that being around others will solve this. But loneliness isn’t about how many people are in our lives; it’s about a lack of intimacy. People can feel deeply lonely even in relationships or when surrounded by family and friends.

At its core, the loneliness pandemic is about disconnection—from each other, nature, the Divine, and even ourselves. At the heart of this disconnection is a lack of intimacy.

Intimacy exists on a spectrum. On one end, there’s existential loneliness—a state where we feel separate from the world, like an object among other objects. It’s when the ego is fully enclosed in itself. On the other end is enlightenment—a deep realization of our oneness with existence, like a wave that realizes its oneness with the ocean. As Zen master Dogen put it, “Enlightenment is intimacy with all things.”

So, what is intimacy, and why is it so vital? Intimacy is more than physical closeness. True intimacy is a deep emotional and spiritual connection—with ourselves, others, the world around us, and even with the task at hand. Intimacy inspires the soul; it breathes life into us. But intimacy demands vulnerability. Without opening our hearts, there can be no intimacy.

It’s often said that solitude is the antidote to loneliness. Why? By moving away from the noise of society, we reconnect with ourselves and the present moment. The quieter we become, the more we hear the whispers of our soul. This doesn’t mean we should permanently live on a mountaintop or in a desert. As Meister Eckhart said, “We must learn to acquire an inward desert, wherever we are.”

We must cultivate an inner stillness from which we can connect to our surroundings. When we are deeply connected to ourselves we can deeply connect to others. Loneliness fades not with more people, but with deeper, more meaningful connections. The cure lies in revealing ourselves, embracing vulnerability, and fostering connections that awaken our souls.

The extent to which we are able to open up, be receptive, and connect to ourselves and others is the extent to which we move away from loneliness. For the opposite of loneliness is intimacy.

The pursuit of spiritual knowledge can sometimes turn us into “walking heads”—filled with ideas, concepts, and theories. While knowledge can guide us, it can also become a barrier to genuine spirituality if we use it to bypass direct experience, or worse, to enhance our ego.

The constant search for knowledge may stem from a deep-seated urge for certainty. We turn to books and concepts to make sense of the unpredictable world around us, seeking security in what we can understand and control. However, this pursuit can disconnect us from the very life we’re meant to experience. As Carl Jung said, “Intellectualization is a common cover-up for fear of direct experience.”

Beneath this urge for certainty or security lies a deep-rooted fear of life itself—a fear of directly encountering the animate, of genuine intimacy with our own inner world, and with other human beings.

Ideas and concepts are inanimate. What is inanimate is lifeless, and thus predictable and controllable. Life, on the other hand, is unpredictable, wild, and messy. We can’t exert power over it. Yet, this is exactly the point.

If our craving for the fruit of the tree of knowledge surpasses our desire to partake in the tree of life, we may find ourselves leaving the Garden of Eden—moving away from the fullness of life. In other words, if our urge to know everything about life outweighs our desire to truly live it, it may be time to question our pursuit.

The point is not to move away from life, but to be deeply moved by it. Spirituality isn’t about accumulating knowledge to feel secure or to enhance our ego. It is not our knowing but our capacity for unknowing that opens us up to the highest spiritual truths. It’s about emptying ourselves, embracing uncertainty, and opening ourselves up to genuine intimacy. As Dogen said, “Enlightenment is just intimacy with all things.”

Intellectual knowledge and spiritual practice are like the two wings of a bird. They need to be balanced to help us fly to greater heights in life.

In the end, the true value of a spiritual path is revealed in how deeply it enhances our intimacy with the world.

The pursuit of spiritual knowledge can sometimes turn us into “walking heads”—filled with ideas, concepts, and theories. While knowledge can guide us, it can also become a barrier to genuine spirituality if we use it to bypass direct experience, or worse, to enhance our ego.

The constant search for knowledge may stem from a deep-seated urge for certainty. We turn to books and concepts to make sense of the unpredictable world around us, seeking security in what we can understand and control. However, this pursuit can disconnect us from the very life we’re meant to experience. As Carl Jung said, “Intellectualization is a common cover-up for fear of direct experience.”

Beneath this urge for certainty or security lies a deep-rooted fear of life itself—a fear of directly encountering the animate, of genuine intimacy with our own inner world, and with other human beings.

Ideas and concepts are inanimate. What is inanimate is lifeless, and thus predictable and controllable. Life, on the other hand, is unpredictable, wild, and messy. We can’t exert power over it. Yet, this is exactly the point.

If our craving for the fruit of the tree of knowledge surpasses our desire to partake in the tree of life, we may find ourselves leaving the Garden of Eden—moving away from the fullness of life. In other words, if our urge to know everything about life outweighs our desire to truly live it, it may be time to question our pursuit.

The point is not to move away from life, but to be deeply moved by it. Spirituality isn’t about accumulating knowledge to feel secure or to enhance our ego. It is not our knowing but our capacity for unknowing that opens us up to the highest spiritual truths. It’s about emptying ourselves, embracing uncertainty, and opening ourselves up to genuine intimacy. As Dogen said, “Enlightenment is just intimacy with all things.”

Intellectual knowledge and spiritual practice are like the two wings of a bird. They need to be balanced to help us fly to greater heights in life.

In the end, the true value of a spiritual path is revealed in how deeply it enhances our intimacy with the world.

From my first book, Nothing You Don’t Already Know. I remember writing this quote about ten years ago while sitting in Vondelpark, Amsterdam. I originally shared it on @leaderquotes, a page I no longer use. It went viral almost instantly. Since then, I receive at least one email a week from authors seeking permission to include it in their own books. I’ve seen it in books, magazines, music videos and I’ve even seen it inked as tattoos.

The quote was inspired by a team manager I worked with at the time. He was constantly blaming his team for not being motivated, not realizing he had created a deeply demotivating environment.

What does this quote remind you of?

From my first book, Nothing You Don’t Already Know. I remember writing this quote about ten years ago while sitting in Vondelpark, Amsterdam. I originally shared it on @leaderquotes, a page I no longer use. It went viral almost instantly. Since then, I receive at least one email a week from authors seeking permission to include it in their own books. I’ve seen it in books, magazines, music videos and I’ve even seen it inked as tattoos.

The quote was inspired by a team manager I worked with at the time. He was constantly blaming his team for not being motivated, not realizing he had created a deeply demotivating environment.

What does this quote remind you of?

In moments of heartache or loss, it’s easy to turn away from the one person who needs you the most—yourself.

We abandon ourselves when we stop caring about our well-being, when we numb the pain with alcohol or distractions instead of facing our emotions head-on.

We abandon ourselves when we let self-doubt silence our inner voice, and when we give others the power to define our worth.

We abandon ourselves when we believe the inner critic, without realizing that this inner critic is not us; it’s the voices of others—parents, or childhood teachers—that we have internalized.

But here’s the truth: You are not your thoughts. They are not even yours. Your worth doesn’t depend on other people’s validation. Why not give yourself the same care, compassion, and understanding that you would freely give to a friend? Your craving for approval and love from others is misguided. The deep truth is, you are already loved. You are already accepted. Beneath the layers of your shattered ego, there is a radiant love that shines like the sun, regardless of whether you think you’re worthy or not. The sun doesn’t make distinctions about who is worthy of its light; only our little ego does.

As Paul Tillich said, “Accept the fact that you are accepted, even though you’re unacceptable.”

To enhance self-love, start by treating yourself with compassion. Take time to listen to your needs, and honor them without judgment. Surround yourself with people who uplift you, not drain you. Invest in habits that nourish your soul, whether it’s through meditation, journaling, or simply taking a walk in nature.

Remember, the most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one with yourself. Ask yourself, ‘What would I do if I knew that I am deeply loved?’ Now, go do it. Don’t abandon yourself. Shine like the sun. Embrace who you are, love your flaws instead of condemning them, and watch how your world transforms.

“You have seen my descent, now watch my rising.” - Rumi

In moments of heartache or loss, it’s easy to turn away from the one person who needs you the most—yourself.

We abandon ourselves when we stop caring about our well-being, when we numb the pain with alcohol or distractions instead of facing our emotions head-on.

We abandon ourselves when we let self-doubt silence our inner voice, and when we give others the power to define our worth.

We abandon ourselves when we believe the inner critic, without realizing that this inner critic is not us; it’s the voices of others—parents, or childhood teachers—that we have internalized.

But here’s the truth: You are not your thoughts. They are not even yours. Your worth doesn’t depend on other people’s validation. Why not give yourself the same care, compassion, and understanding that you would freely give to a friend? Your craving for approval and love from others is misguided. The deep truth is, you are already loved. You are already accepted. Beneath the layers of your shattered ego, there is a radiant love that shines like the sun, regardless of whether you think you’re worthy or not. The sun doesn’t make distinctions about who is worthy of its light; only our little ego does.

As Paul Tillich said, “Accept the fact that you are accepted, even though you’re unacceptable.”

To enhance self-love, start by treating yourself with compassion. Take time to listen to your needs, and honor them without judgment. Surround yourself with people who uplift you, not drain you. Invest in habits that nourish your soul, whether it’s through meditation, journaling, or simply taking a walk in nature.

Remember, the most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one with yourself. Ask yourself, ‘What would I do if I knew that I am deeply loved?’ Now, go do it. Don’t abandon yourself. Shine like the sun. Embrace who you are, love your flaws instead of condemning them, and watch how your world transforms.

“You have seen my descent, now watch my rising.” - Rumi

Our obsession with productivity has disconnected us from ourselves. Josef Pieper, in his profound work Leisure, the Basis of Culture, argues that our modern obsession with productivity and work diminishes our capacity for true contemplation, which is essential to understanding our humanity.

This insistence on productivity and efficiency reflects a utilitarian worldview where our human value is determined solely by our output. This mindset detaches us from the highest of our human traits, such as the capacity for wonder, the appreciation of beauty, and the pursuit of truth for its own sake. These human qualities cannot be reduced to mere utility or economic gain. Therefore, in modern society, they are deemed useless. We have forgotten that things don’t have to be useful to be deeply meaningful.

Our capitalistic mindset seduces us to turn everything in the world into a commodity. Can we use it? Can we sell it? No? Then it is useless. We even turn ourselves into commodities. If you don’t perform at work according to the standard, you are sent to the Human Resources department. Corporations are filled with walking heads, running around, disconnected from body and soul. No wonder so many people burn out.

To counteract this, we need to reclaim our capacity for leisure. But what is leisure? Genuine leisure, according to Pieper, is not the absence of work, but an attitude of mind. It’s not just ‘spare time.’ It’s a spiritual and intellectual receptivity that connects us to our transcendent nature. As Pieper says, ‘Leisure is only possible when we are at one with ourselves.’ The key to leisure is stillness. Stillness is not absence of movement, but absence of stress. Like a dancer who is at one with the dance, it’s a deep concentration and openness. In stillness, we do things for their own sake, like writing, making art, contemplating, or reading.

In stillness, we reconnect with our essential nature. It is the portal to the transcendent, where so many of us long to be, often without knowing it because we have almost forgotten what it means to be human. Stillness revitalizes. Stillness reconnects us to the Divine.

‘Be still and know that I am God.’ - Psalm 46:10

Our obsession with productivity has disconnected us from ourselves. Josef Pieper, in his profound work Leisure, the Basis of Culture, argues that our modern obsession with productivity and work diminishes our capacity for true contemplation, which is essential to understanding our humanity.

This insistence on productivity and efficiency reflects a utilitarian worldview where our human value is determined solely by our output. This mindset detaches us from the highest of our human traits, such as the capacity for wonder, the appreciation of beauty, and the pursuit of truth for its own sake. These human qualities cannot be reduced to mere utility or economic gain. Therefore, in modern society, they are deemed useless. We have forgotten that things don’t have to be useful to be deeply meaningful.

Our capitalistic mindset seduces us to turn everything in the world into a commodity. Can we use it? Can we sell it? No? Then it is useless. We even turn ourselves into commodities. If you don’t perform at work according to the standard, you are sent to the Human Resources department. Corporations are filled with walking heads, running around, disconnected from body and soul. No wonder so many people burn out.

To counteract this, we need to reclaim our capacity for leisure. But what is leisure? Genuine leisure, according to Pieper, is not the absence of work, but an attitude of mind. It’s not just ‘spare time.’ It’s a spiritual and intellectual receptivity that connects us to our transcendent nature. As Pieper says, ‘Leisure is only possible when we are at one with ourselves.’ The key to leisure is stillness. Stillness is not absence of movement, but absence of stress. Like a dancer who is at one with the dance, it’s a deep concentration and openness. In stillness, we do things for their own sake, like writing, making art, contemplating, or reading.

In stillness, we reconnect with our essential nature. It is the portal to the transcendent, where so many of us long to be, often without knowing it because we have almost forgotten what it means to be human. Stillness revitalizes. Stillness reconnects us to the Divine.

‘Be still and know that I am God.’ - Psalm 46:10

Why do we often find ourselves trying so hard to make others see the world as we do? Is it really about them—or is it more about us?

The harder we push our beliefs on others, the more it reveals about our own inner world. Sometimes, in our intensity to convince others, we’re actually seeking validation for something we haven’t fully accepted ourselves.

Consider those who passionately try to convert others to their faith. Often, this drive stems not from certainty but from a deep, unconscious fear—fear of questioning their own beliefs, of being cast out by their community. Instead of confronting these insecurities, they project them onto others.

Or think of a colleague who decides to leave your company. If you find yourself angry at their ‘lack of loyalty’ and start lecturing them, pause and reflect: could this reaction be a sign that you’re suppressing your own desire for change, buried in your unconscious?

I learned by going through psychoanalysis myself that the unconscious mind has a powerful influence on our behavior. When we feel the need to impose our views, it often means we’re grappling with our own uncertainties. Carl Jung’s concept of the shadow refers to those hidden parts of ourselves—the doubts, fears, and insecurities we might not even be aware of. In trying to convince others, we’re really trying to convince this shadow self that our beliefs are true.

So the next time you feel the urge to impose your views on someone else, take a moment to look inward. Ask yourself: what unresolved doubts am I projecting? Embrace the discomfort. Be honest and dare to see what you don’t want to see.

Remember, truth doesn’t need validation from others. True confidence is quiet; it radiates like the sun, gently illuminating the world. It’s the doubts and insecurities that shout the loudest.

Why do we often find ourselves trying so hard to make others see the world as we do? Is it really about them—or is it more about us?

The harder we push our beliefs on others, the more it reveals about our own inner world. Sometimes, in our intensity to convince others, we’re actually seeking validation for something we haven’t fully accepted ourselves.

Consider those who passionately try to convert others to their faith. Often, this drive stems not from certainty but from a deep, unconscious fear—fear of questioning their own beliefs, of being cast out by their community. Instead of confronting these insecurities, they project them onto others.

Or think of a colleague who decides to leave your company. If you find yourself angry at their ‘lack of loyalty’ and start lecturing them, pause and reflect: could this reaction be a sign that you’re suppressing your own desire for change, buried in your unconscious?

I learned by going through psychoanalysis myself that the unconscious mind has a powerful influence on our behavior. When we feel the need to impose our views, it often means we’re grappling with our own uncertainties. Carl Jung’s concept of the shadow refers to those hidden parts of ourselves—the doubts, fears, and insecurities we might not even be aware of. In trying to convince others, we’re really trying to convince this shadow self that our beliefs are true.

So the next time you feel the urge to impose your views on someone else, take a moment to look inward. Ask yourself: what unresolved doubts am I projecting? Embrace the discomfort. Be honest and dare to see what you don’t want to see.

Remember, truth doesn’t need validation from others. True confidence is quiet; it radiates like the sun, gently illuminating the world. It’s the doubts and insecurities that shout the loudest.

In today’s world, we are obsessed with personal identity. We craft our personas with great care, curating every aspect of how we want to be seen by others. Especially online. We label ourselves by our jobs, possessions, productivity, roles, gender, and even the labels we choose to wear— believing that these things make us unique, special. But in doing so, we limit ourselves to these narrow definitions. To define is to confine.

When we cling to these identities, we unknowingly create the conditions for our own suffering. We become trapped in the constant need to maintain, defend, and behave in accordance with these identities. The more we try to be special, the more we find ourselves comparing, competing, and ultimately feeling inadequate. We start to believe that who we are is tied to what we do, what we have, and how others see us. But none of that is what we essentially are.

True freedom comes from realizing that we are not our thoughts, roles, possessions, and the stories we tell ourselves. The moment we let go of the need to define ourselves, we open the door to something much greater. We begin to understand that we are not the images we paint of ourselves.

In letting go of these definitions, we discover a profound freedom—not in finding a bigger or better identity, but in releasing all identifications altogether. Spiritual growth, in its truest sense, isn’t about becoming more of something or someone. It’s about unbecoming all the things that we’ve never been. The truth is, what we are is inexpressible. It is the “I am” before anything is added.

When we let go of the need to be anything at all, we return to pure being. In this state, we are no longer confined by thoughts, roles, or possessions. We are simply alive, present, and free.

No one is free from all identifications. No one is liberated. Be no one.

#spiritualgrowth #MindfulLiving #InnerPeace #spiritualbooks #SpiritualAwakening #ConsciousLiving #SelfDiscovery #SpiritualWisdom #consciousness #ancientwisdom

In today’s world, we are obsessed with personal identity. We craft our personas with great care, curating every aspect of how we want to be seen by others. Especially online. We label ourselves by our jobs, possessions, productivity, roles, gender, and even the labels we choose to wear— believing that these things make us unique, special. But in doing so, we limit ourselves to these narrow definitions. To define is to confine.

When we cling to these identities, we unknowingly create the conditions for our own suffering. We become trapped in the constant need to maintain, defend, and behave in accordance with these identities. The more we try to be special, the more we find ourselves comparing, competing, and ultimately feeling inadequate. We start to believe that who we are is tied to what we do, what we have, and how others see us. But none of that is what we essentially are.

True freedom comes from realizing that we are not our thoughts, roles, possessions, and the stories we tell ourselves. The moment we let go of the need to define ourselves, we open the door to something much greater. We begin to understand that we are not the images we paint of ourselves.

In letting go of these definitions, we discover a profound freedom—not in finding a bigger or better identity, but in releasing all identifications altogether. Spiritual growth, in its truest sense, isn’t about becoming more of something or someone. It’s about unbecoming all the things that we’ve never been. The truth is, what we are is inexpressible. It is the “I am” before anything is added.

When we let go of the need to be anything at all, we return to pure being. In this state, we are no longer confined by thoughts, roles, or possessions. We are simply alive, present, and free.

No one is free from all identifications. No one is liberated. Be no one.

#spiritualgrowth #MindfulLiving #InnerPeace #spiritualbooks #SpiritualAwakening #ConsciousLiving #SelfDiscovery #SpiritualWisdom #consciousness #ancientwisdom

In our quest for success, we often fixate on what we do not have, overlooking the abundance we already possess. We often search far and wide for what we can’t seem to find at home. We pursue joy everywhere in the world, until we realize that it is our task to bring joy to life. When joy resides in our hearts, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. When joy doesn’t reside in our hearts, even the most extraordinary circumstances can feel unsatisfying.

Perhaps maturity is the recognition that the seemingly simple things in life are actually immeasurably significant.

A kiss of a loved one. A warm cup of tea. The smile on a child’s face. Feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin. A good book. Laughing with friends over silly jokes, or the sheer joy of simply being.

These moments are easy to overlook if we aren’t open and present to them. We miss them when we’re constantly chasing the next big thing.

As Meister Eckhart pointed out ‘The most important hour is always the present. The most significant person is always the one sitting across from you right now. The most important work is always love.’

Does that mean we shouldn’t strive to build the life we truly desire? Not at all. Perhaps the key is to set up your life in such a way, not to escape the simple joys of ordinary life but in order to fully enjoy them. Maybe the sweet spot lies in setting our lives on an upward trajectory while staying connected to the here and now.

#ordinarylife #simpleliving #slowliving #slowlife #consciousness #bepresent #beherenow

In our quest for success, we often fixate on what we do not have, overlooking the abundance we already possess. We often search far and wide for what we can’t seem to find at home. We pursue joy everywhere in the world, until we realize that it is our task to bring joy to life. When joy resides in our hearts, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. When joy doesn’t reside in our hearts, even the most extraordinary circumstances can feel unsatisfying.

Perhaps maturity is the recognition that the seemingly simple things in life are actually immeasurably significant.

A kiss of a loved one. A warm cup of tea. The smile on a child’s face. Feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin. A good book. Laughing with friends over silly jokes, or the sheer joy of simply being.

These moments are easy to overlook if we aren’t open and present to them. We miss them when we’re constantly chasing the next big thing.

As Meister Eckhart pointed out ‘The most important hour is always the present. The most significant person is always the one sitting across from you right now. The most important work is always love.’

Does that mean we shouldn’t strive to build the life we truly desire? Not at all. Perhaps the key is to set up your life in such a way, not to escape the simple joys of ordinary life but in order to fully enjoy them. Maybe the sweet spot lies in setting our lives on an upward trajectory while staying connected to the here and now.

#ordinarylife #simpleliving #slowliving #slowlife #consciousness #bepresent #beherenow

Speak the truth, but from a place of love.

From my book ‘Finding what was never lost.’

When was the last time that you spoke the truth?

#meditation #consciousness#spiritualquotes #spiritualbooks #mindfulness #healing #enlightenment #spirituality #yoga #spiritualgrowth

Speak the truth, but from a place of love.

From my book ‘Finding what was never lost.’

When was the last time that you spoke the truth?

#meditation #consciousness#spiritualquotes #spiritualbooks #mindfulness #healing #enlightenment #spirituality #yoga #spiritualgrowth

We often feel tired, not because we’ve done too much, but because we’ve done too little of what sparks a light in us.

Type YES if this resonates!

We often feel tired, not because we’ve done too much, but because we’ve done too little of what sparks a light in us.

Type YES if this resonates!

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@alexanderdenheijer

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