Today, I’m challenging a widely accepted belief: that meditation teaches us concentration. But we've got it all backwards — and we wonder why we’re not peaceful.

We are putting the cart before the horse.

We’re trying to meditate before learning how to concentrate.

Sitting still, closing our eyes and focusing on our breath is no doubt a pleasant way to relax — and be present, for a moment. However, it isn’t the same as being clear-headed, focused and available throughout your day.

Think of a businessman burdened with all sorts of problems. He’s stressed, he can’t sleep, he’s exhausted. His wife arranges a picnic by the lake. He lies down under a tree and, within moments, he falls asleep.

When he wakes, he tells his wife that he has had the best sleep in months, perhaps even years.

What happened?

The environment lent him its calm, lulling him to sleep.

But did he learn how to sleep?

No.

The moment he returns to his usual environment, all his problems are still there. The restlessness and stress come back as quickly as you can say 'Jack Robinson'.

And this is just like modern meditation.

You sit in a quiet room, close your eyes, remove all distractions and create an environment conducive to calm. And for those few minutes, you feel peaceful.

But what happens when you open your eyes?

The phone rings. The traffic’s heavy. You’re interrupted. Someone says something that annoys you.

Where did your peace go?

If your presence depends on physical stillness and closed eyes, how useful is that when you return to everyday life?

Somewhere along the way, we have forgotten how to pay attention.

Thanks to modern technology, smartphones and social media, our minds have become scattered with too many desires and distractions.

And the solution we’re given is to meditate.

Sit quietly. Close your eyes. Focus on your breath.

Breathe…

I mean, do we really need to be told to breathe? Is this really how far we’ve fallen? Have we become so distracted that we now need an app to remind us to inhale and exhale?

We don’t need another technique. We need to learn how to pay attention — and this requires concentration.

In this short video, I explain how to make your mind calm, so you can concentrate — and be present at all times, not just sometimes.

Thank you for reading and watching.

Till next time,
Be Well, 
Meredith ∞ The Elder Sage

Meet The Author

However, before you reach the ultimate, you live in a world where everything changes. This is where Vedanta is most practical: it provides the technique for right action.

Right action reduces and ultimately eliminates worry, anxiety, fear, stress, addictions, anger and depression.

Right action is about grounding yourself in higher values, and working in a spirit of love and discernment towards a higher goal and a more meaningful life.

Sidenote: I’m preparing to present an essay and video on the difference between Vedanta, Advaita Vedanta and non-duality. It will go behind a paywall because it will ruffle some feathers. But if you’re genuinely interested, I will gladly gift you a subscription.

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What is Vedanta?

Vedanta is the ancient philosophy of India. It is derived from two Sanskrit words: Veda, meaning knowledge, and Anta, meaning end. Literally, Vedanta means the end of knowledge. Its teachings are found in the final section of the Vedas, the Upanishads, regarded as the most ancient and profound spiritual texts.

The Upanishads speak the highest truth — that you are eternal. But because you have not realised that immortal state of peace and bliss, you feel a void, an emptiness that nothing in the world can fill. A state of incompleteness.

According to the Upanishads, this state is an illusion. It isn’t real. Yet we feel it, as if something is missing.

We search for happiness through success, relationships, possessions, or recognition, hoping that one more achievement will finally make us whole.

This feeling of lack arises because we have identified this personality as our true self. We have become attached to our thoughts, emotions, roles, and circumstances, and have lost sight of the limitless Self that we truly are.

As a result, we spend our lives seeking fulfilment in the world, outside ourselves, unaware that the fulfilment we long for is already within us.

Practical Vedanta

Vedanta teaches us how to live with both peace and productivity.

In today’s world, we find two extremes: people who are peaceful yet unproductive, and those who are highly productive yet inwardly anxious and stressed.

Vedanta unites the two: peace and productivity — inner composure with purposeful action — through the technique of right action.

Right action means dedicating your efforts — whether it’s writing, washing dishes, or running a business — to a higher purpose, without concern for the results. You act because it is the right thing to do, not because you are driven by praise or recognition.

Vedanta also teaches the importance of understanding your dharma — your natural disposition. When your actions are aligned with your nature, work ceases to be a struggle and becomes an expression of love and service.

This is why Vedanta is so profoundly practical. It is not an escape from the world. It is a manual for living wisely within it. It transforms the quality of your actions, your relationships, your work, and your mind.

That is Vedanta: a practical philosophy for daily life, and ultimately, the path to Self-realisation.

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ∞ The Elder Sage

Meet The Author

Gnana means knowledge. Yoga means union. Together, Gnana Yoga is the path of realising your essential nature through knowledge.

What is Gnana Yoga?

Gnana Yoga is a traditional discipline that prepares the mind for meditation. I’m not talking about modern-day meditation techniques; I’m referring to traditional meditation — the kind that is practised for true Self Realisation or God Realisation.

The practice of Gnana Yoga calms the mind and sharpens the intellect. Not the academic type, but the subtle thinking faculty called buddhi: the power to reason, discern and distinguish between the real and unreal, the eternal and the ephemeral.

Through systematic study, self-inquiry, reflection, and contemplation of the scriptures, Gnana Yoga gradually reduces selfish desires, quietens the ego, and clears the accumulated clutter of the mind.

It’s like weeding a garden. If you neglect it, the weeds take over. Gnana Yoga removes the mental clutter that prevents clarity, composure, and steady contemplation.

Three Thought Temperaments

Every human mind expresses itself through three thought temperaments, known in Vedanta as the gunas. Now, don’t let these Sanskrit terms put you off, because they are universal, meaning these gunas are for everyone. So, it’s important to know what they are.

In Sanskrit, these thought temperaments are known as Sattva, Rajas, and Tamas:

• Sattva is a state of peace, contentment, composure, serenity, poise, and pause. It is a state of contemplation and objectivity — seeing life as it is. It is the highest state, and while we all have it, in some of us it is very faint, so we need to strengthen it.

• Rajas is a state of passionate activity. You’re out there running around desire-ridden, propelled into action helter-skelter by every desire that comes up.

• Tamas is a state of inertia. Your mind and body are sluggish, your intellect is asleep, and you’re just going through the motions.

A lot of people mistake tamas for sattva, but it isn’t!

In modern-day meditation, people claim to be peaceful, but what is actually happening is that they have simply stopped running around and slipped into inactivity. I don’t mean to sound dismissive of our modern approach to meditation. However, there is much to learn and understand before we can find lasting peace.

Waking Up to Your Higher Nature

In nature, sattva manifests between 4-6am. If you wake up after six, you miss it completely and jump right into rajas, rushing into the day before the mind has found its centre. This is no way to function!

When you rise early, you enliven the Buddhi, intellect.

Unfortunately, we live in a world that thinks “intellect” means intellectual brilliance or academic achievement. But the Buddhi is our awakened thinking.

Look at it this way: Buddhi is Buddha with an ‘i’ on the end. To become awakened like the Buddha (the awakened one), you need the Buddhi — your awakened thinking to take you to that state of Self Realisation or God Realisation.

The intellect is like a muscle: if you don’t exercise it, it remains weak. Imagine an adult with the muscles of a child? It’s like that.

When the intellect is weak or asleep, the mind jumps into the driver’s seat.

The mind is a flow of thoughts—it gets into worries of the past and anxieties of the future, jumping from thought to thought like a monkey from one branch to another.

The Buddhi, intellect, governs the mind. It decides which thoughts deserve attention and which should be ignored. It is also what keeps the mind in the present.

So, we need to wake it up and strengthen it — and the best time to do this is first thing in the morning through the practice of Gnana Yoga (the yoga of knowledge).

How to Practice This at Home

You don’t have to overhaul your life overnight. Just tweak your habits by going to bed a little earlier and getting up a little earlier. This needn’t become another self-improvement project. Simply begin where you are.

1. Start with 30 minutes: Get up at 5:30am, sit quietly in a comfortable chair without disturbances, and gradually build up to an hour.

2. Choose an uplifting text: Find a sacred text that uplifts you. My choice is the Bhagavad Gita by A. Parthasarathy, but choose whatever inspires you. It could be the Bible or the Dharmapada.2

3. Read systematically: Don’t just turn to a random page. Go systematically from beginning to end, reading just a couple of paragraphs.

4. Follow the 20/80 Rule: Spend 20% reading and 80% reflection. Ask yourself: How does this apply to my life? What do I need to do to bring about a positive change?

What you read and contemplate in the quiet morning hours carries you throughout the day. You find that you are no longer as reactive as you used to be. You become calmer, more in control, poised, and dignified in how you respond to life.

Imagine beginning each day this way? Why not try it for a month? Observe what changes — not only in your mornings, but in the quality of your thinking throughout the day. If you decide to try it, I’d love to hear about your experience.

Leave a comment

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ∞ The Elder Sage

Meet The Author

Today, this body turned sixty-two. I say “this body” deliberately because I am not this. This is not who I am. This body is constantly changing and ageing. I am not.

Another word for “body” is change.

Because it is fleeting, it cannot be the ultimate Reality. What is real is that which never changes: the true Self. We all have a choice of where to place our focus: on this ever-changing, limited self or on our changeless, unlimited Self.

The Changeless Self

If you focus on the changes in your body, on what is fading, you will never find peace. You will long for what has passed, feel incomplete in the present, crave your lost youth, and remain dissatisfied.

You will search endlessly outwardly — for more, better, different — hoping something will finally satisfy you. But it never will, because what you seek cannot be found out there. It must be discovered within.

The Nuggets

Choose one or two that inspire you and reflect on them deeply. Reflection turns knowledge into wisdom. That’s when you start to live the knowledge.

1. Don’t chase what’s passing. Seek what is permanent.

2. Turn inward and gain wisdom — contemplating sacred texts fills you with inner strength and dispels restlessness.

3. Being grounded in your higher Self heals all psychological problems.

4. Life is like a boomerang. What you do to another, you ultimately do to yourself.

5. Your mind will drive you crazy if you let it. Use your power of discernment to govern your irrational and indiscriminate mind.

6. Intellect, buddhi in Sanskrit, is the capacity to govern the mind. It is the gateway to wisdom.

7. Contemplate before you meditate.

8. Never let yourself be defeated. Get up, and keep moving towards your higher goal.

9. Remember that you are one of a kind. Unique. There isn’t another you.

10. Be available for others. Don’t be so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t have time for others.

11. See the Divinity in others, not the differences.

12. The world can never satisfy the longing in our hearts to be free.

13. Read sacred literature and reflect deeply. Question yourself, your choices, and your life.

14. You are your unlimited Self — the Source, the life-giving principle, pure Consciousness.

15. What they see in you is only a fraction of who you are.

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16. Meditation requires an awakened intellect, not a switched-off brain!

17. True spirituality is how peaceful you are when things don’t go your way.

18. Pay no attention to anyone’s praise or criticism. Simply follow what’s right for you.

19. Be a witness to what is happening around you and watch the procession of perceptions, actions, emotions and thoughts pass by.

20. Be still internally, dynamic externally.

21. Be your original Self. No one likes a copy.

22. Don’t be judgmental. The energy we waste in judging others is just what we need to live up to our own ideals.

23. Stand your ground. Not from a position of ego, but from a position of Truth.

24. Never be influenced by others. Pause, observe and question. Then draw your own conclusions.

25. Be good, always. Goodness comes back to you from the most unlikely sources.

26. Have no expectations; then you won’t have any disappointments.

27. Hate no one. No matter how much they hurt you.

28. Life may not seem fair, but it always is.

29. Focus on the work, not the outcome.

30. Love expresses as service to others.

31. Always follow your conscience, no matter what. Conscience is your inner compass, always pointing to the Truth.

32. Don’t waste your time focusing on what you don’t have.

33. Count your blessings. You have so many.

34. Make peace with your past. Plan for your future, but always focus on the present.

35. Don’t compare yourself with anyone. You are on your own journey.

36. No matter how you feel, get up and show up.

37. Rise up with knowledge and live it. Watch as all pettiness and negativity fall away.

38. Do what makes your heart sing. Life is too short to be working in a job you don’t love.

39. The people who are closest to you are your greatest teachers.

40. Plan your life, work towards a higher goal, but be flexible.

41. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

42. Think of others before yourself.

43. When life throws you a curved ball, ask yourself, “In a year’s time, will this matter?”

44. However good or bad a situation is, it will change. Everything is temporary.

45. Be in control of your life. Don’t let your life control you.

46. Forgive everyone everything. Hanging onto resentment will only harm you, not the other person.

47. What other people think of you is not your concern.

48. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.

49. Get up from your desk and walk outside. Breathe in the fresh air. Come back to your desk feeling invigorated and revitalised.

50. Be kind to others. Everyone is fighting their own battles.

51. Surrender to a higher power, beyond your small self.

52. Empty yourself of ego, and God will fill you up.

53. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it is a gift.

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54. Happiness exists in the present moment, not at some time in the future.

55. Fear is an illusion. Most of the things we fear never happen.

56. Simplification is the greatest sophistication.

57. Failure is good. If you avoid failure, you avoid taking action. Accept that failure is part of learning and keep moving forward.

58. Don’t waste your time and energy in petty, negative emotions.

59. You only take one thing with you when you go. That is, your wisdom or your ignorance.

60. Don’t take yourself too seriously. No one else does.

61. Never be selfish. Life is to give, not to take.

62. Age is just a number. The best is yet to come.

Was there one nugget that stood out for you? Let me know. Would love to hear your thoughts.

Leave a comment

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ∞ The Elder Sage

Meet the Author

First of all, this body turns sixty-two next week — and for more than three decades I’ve been studying, researching, contemplating, teaching and living an ancient philosophy called Vedanta.1

Vedanta is the most profound philosophy. It literally means “the end of knowledge.” Because once you know Vedanta, there is nothing more to be known. You have reached the ultimate realisation of your essential nature.

But before you reach the ultimate, you live in a world where everything changes. I’ve been a child, a teenager, a young woman, a mature woman, and now I’m entering the later stage of life. In the blink of an eye, I’ll be seventy-two!

That is why I called this publication The Elder Sage.

Everything I write here comes from sincere study, reflection, contemplation, and personal experience. I’m not here to tell you what to believe. Quite the opposite. I encourage you to question. To apply your own intellect and ask, Is this true? Does this stand up to reason? Does it correspond with my own experience?

If it does, keep it. If it doesn’t, leave it.

Much of what I’ll be writing about in the near future centres on one distinction that has the power to transform our lives — the difference between the mind and the intellect: manas and buddhi in Sanskrit.

The mind is the seat of our desires, impulses, feelings, emotions, and personal preferences, our likes and dislikes. The intellect is our faculty of clarity, critical thinking, reason, and discernment — and, most importantly, our capacity to observe and manage our mind.

The mind is constantly rambling: moving, like water in a river. The intellect is like the riverbanks. When the banks are strong, the river flows smoothly and safely towards its destination — the ocean. But when the banks are weak, the river floods its surroundings, destroying everything in its path.

Our lives work much the same way.

When our intellect is weak, the mind runs everywhere — wherever it wants. It lives in the past and future, worrying and replaying regrets and anxiously creating unnecessary emotional turmoil.

When the intellect is strong, it guides the mind back to the present. It is like a loving parent caring for a child — not suppressing it, but guiding it with wisdom.

Hope you enjoyed watching my first video here on Substack. Along with the writing, this is the direction I'm taking The Elder Sage.

Thank you for being here.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ∞ The Elder Sage

Meet the Author

One of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do was stand in front of a room full of highly intelligent professors at the University of Western Australia and speak about the difference between intellect and intelligence.

I mean, who was I? I wasn’t one of them. I didn’t have a degree in science, engineering, or business management. All I had done was study ancient philosophy in India for six years, where I learned the core difference between the two.

Still, I stood there, head up, shoulders back, and asked them to keep an open mind — and for a brief moment, they did.

But the shutters came down the moment I said, “Education systems around the world focus on gaining intelligence, rather than teaching students how to think.”

The auditorium fell into stunned silence. Then came murmurs: “How dare she? Of course we teach students how to think.”

Undaunted, I continued. “Our education system is designed to teach students how to earn a living, not how to gain a life...”

But before I could even complete the sentence, they’d made up their minds. It was as if I had waved a conductor’s baton. In perfect unison, bruised egos leaned back, folded their arms, and furrowed their brows. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” they grumbled.

Intelligence Isn’t Intellect

I carried on, cutting through the resistance with the invisible sword of determination: “Intelligence raises the standard of living. It’s thanks to education and intelligence that we live in a beautiful city, filled with amenities and comforts. It’s thanks to intelligence that we drive safe cars, live in comfortable homes, and work in plush offices.”

The mood shifted. Disapproving heads began to nod. “Yes, yes… that’s true,” they agreed.

Then I threw a spanner in the works: “But no amount of intelligence can raise the standard of life. Intelligence won’t help you build a strong character. It won’t help you gain peace of mind or deal with life’s challenges. For that, you need intellect. Intellect is the capacity to govern the mind — and it’s the only true gateway to wisdom.”

Emotion and Intelligence

I gave examples of highly intelligent people who had no control over their temper. Doctors battling addiction. Highly educated alcoholics. Brilliant minds who took offence easily and collapsed at the first sign of adversity.

I mentioned a neurosurgeon who performed delicate operations by day but completely lacked the intellect to restrain his destructive personal cravings at night.

There was one man in the audience who stood out. He couldn’t sit still. Agitated and fidgety, he spent the time doodling rather than listening. Suddenly, he blurted out in a thick, arrogant, Italian accent, “So what’s your point?”

I answered, “My point is: Intelligence gives you the means to earn wealth. But it cannot give you the means to gain wisdom and happiness. Only the intellect has the power to observe and manage the mind’s anxiety, stress, and anger — and bring you peace. So, it’s in your interest to cultivate both.”

The hot-headed Italian promptly stood up, muttered profanities, and stormed out.

His reaction proved the very point I was trying to make:

Intellect is invisible to one who relies solely on intelligence.

Intellect stands tall in the face of emotion, acting as the steering wheel that keeps a powerful mind from crashing. While intelligence gives us the capacity to learn and achieve, it is entirely defenceless against a wave of anxiety, anger and pride.

It can build a brilliant career, but it cannot govern a turbulent feeling. Ultimately, highly intelligent people ruin their lives because they confuse the power of their engine with the control of the wheel. They master the world around them, yet remain completely powerless over the world within.

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ♾️ The Elder Sage

Meet the Author

You are the stars, the moon, the sun, and the sky. You are your unlimited Self — the Source, the life-giving principle, pure Consciousness. That is who you are. Yet, you feel limited and inadequate.

It is the greatest delusion, the greatest error humanity can make: to be Almighty, yet feel minuscule. To be the ocean, yet feel worthless because you believe you’re just a wave.

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We are all gods and goddesses in this apparent world. Yet, we have lost sight of our true nature. Consequently, we have identified entirely with the body, mind, and ego, reducing our magnificent stature to something insignificant and small.

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Many years ago, in my early twenties, I was arrogant, self-centred, and deeply unhappy. Not a day went by without anxiety clouding my mind. I honestly thought the world was the problem. But it wasn’t until I went to India to study the ancient philosophy of Vedanta that I realised the real culprit was me and my ego.

I also realised I wasn’t alone. Almost everyone falls into the ego trap. The ego is the “I am” in us — “I am this,” “I am that,” “I am so important,” or even, “I am nothing.”

Ego steals our happiness by separating us from who we truly are, convincing us that we are merely a limited personality bound by the body, mind, and intellect. But we are so much more than the story we tell ourselves.

Imagine Timothée Chalamet as a beggar in a film. He dives deeply into character and begins to suffer as the beggar. When it rains, he curses the heavens. When a passerby ignores him, he genuinely feels wounded. He spends years defending his little corner of the street, hoarding scraps of food, and crying out, “This is my miserable life! This is who I am!”

Then, the director calls, “Cut!”

In that single moment, the beggar dissolves. Timothée instantly steps out of character and returns to himself. He knows he isn’t a beggar; he was just playing a role. He never lost his wealth, his home, or his status — and crucially, even while deep in character, he never once felt separate from his real self.

Similarly, we are not separate from our true Self. It is ever present. We are all like actors playing our roles. The only difference is that we have become lost in the script — as a mother, partner, daughter or son. We have identified so deeply with the characters we play that we’ve forgotten our true selves.

Make Your Mind Unshakeable

When we remember our true Self and that everything in life is temporary, like a play on the stage, we become unshakable in any situation.

Remember the Self, or pure Consciousness, in all actions.

Just as an electronic device cannot function without electricity, human action is impossible without the power of Consciousness, the unseen Source that animates all life.

When you anchor your mind and intellect in this truth, you become grounded and completely unshakable.

You begin to understand the illusory nature of the world.

Without this discipline, it is easy to forget who you are and become entangled in life’s dramas.

Therefore, look at your life as a grand play. Play your roles with excellence, but never lose yourself in them. Stand back, witness the performance, and step into the lasting peace of your true Self.

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My writing is my gift to you. If you enjoyed reading this, please like, comment and share.

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ♾️ The Elder Sage

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People spend their lives chasing money, believing that wealth will bring them the peace and happiness they long for. But if happiness truly came from possessions, then the wealthiest people would live in permanent joy.

They do not.

Wealth may provide comfort, convenience, and pleasure, but it cannot satisfy the deepest longing of the human heart.

So where does real fulfilment come from?

To discover it, we need not look to the stars or to the vast oceans. We can begin with the smallest thing imaginable — a mustard seed resting in the palm of your hand.

Look carefully at the seed. It appears insignificant. Tiny. Almost lifeless. You can describe its colour, shape, smell, texture, and weight. But is that truly what a seed is? Is a seed merely what the senses perceive?

Place the seed into the earth.

Within days, something extraordinary happens. The shell breaks open. A shoot emerges. Roots descend into the soil.

In time, the tiny seed becomes a flourishing plant carrying thousands of new seeds. Those thousands become millions, and millions become trillions.

And it all came from something so tiny.

What does this reveal?

The original seed perishes in the ground. Its form disappears completely. Yet something within it does not perish. Hidden inside that tiny shell was an immeasurable power — an invisible intelligence, a silent force, an infinite potential waiting to express itself.

That unseen power is the real seed.

The outer form was only ever a temporary covering.

We could manufacture an artificial seed with the same colour, size, smell, and weight as the real one. To the eye, it may appear identical. But place it in the earth, and nothing happens. No life emerges. No transformation occurs. Why? Although it outwardly resembles a seed, it lacks the invisible essence within.

The true nature of the seed was never its appearance. Its reality lay in the incredible power hidden within it.

This is one of the greatest truths of existence: the Infinite hides within the finite.

And perhaps the seed is teaching us not only about nature, but about ourselves.

Human beings tend to judge life by outer appearances — the body, status, possessions, age, success, and failure. Yet these are only the external coverings. Beneath them exists something immeasurably greater: the spirit, the Self, the infinite essence of life itself.

The body changes constantly. Thoughts change. Circumstances change. Eventually, like the seed form, the body too returns to the earth. But does the essence within perish?

No. The Infinite cannot die.

Just as the invisible life within the seed survives the destruction of its outer shell, the spirit within every human being remains unaffected by birth and death.

It is timeless, changeless, eternal.

The tragedy is that most people live unaware of this inner wealth. They search outside themselves for fulfilment while carrying infinity within.

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A mustard seed silently proclaims one of life’s greatest revelations: never mistake the outer form for the deeper reality.

Within the smallest seed lies a hidden universe.

Within you lies the Infinite.

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ♾️ The Elder Sage

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What if you were handed a manual for living on your first day of school? A blueprint for thinking clearly, loving selflessly, and standing tall in the face of life’s toughest challenges.

As you grew physically, you wouldn’t just gain bookish knowledge, you would mature mentally, so that you begin to see life AS IT IS, not as you would like it to be.

You wouldn’t feel bullied, anxious, or crumble under pressure, because you wouldn’t take yourself or the world too seriously.

The name of this manual is Vedanta.

Vedanta is an ancient philosophy that originated in the Himalayas over 10,000 years ago. It provides eternal principles for life and living.

These principles enable you to deal with life’s challenges in a calm and dignified manner. They teach you how to prepare for life’s eventualities; how to handle pressure, navigate pain, and rise when life knocks you down.

Above all, its philosophy leads you to the ultimate state of liberation: Moksha.

With the guidance this manual provides, you live the life you are meant to.

But, like most of us, it wasn’t like that for me.

I wasn’t handed any such manual. By the time the 1990s rolled around, I was 26 years old and completely adrift, like a small boat lost at sea, tossed and bossed by the chaotic winds of life.

While my friends were navigating the predictable milestones of their mid-twenties — settling into careers, getting married, buying homes, and starting families — I chose a path many labelled “radical and weird”.

I boarded a plane to India to “find myself”.

Shortly before, I had met a Swami in Perth during his Australian lecture tour. I read his book, Vedanta Treatise, and felt an inexplicable pull toward its concepts.1

While the world back home was spinning its usual wheels, I found myself cloistered in an Indian ashram under the brilliant guidance of a self-realised master, Swami A. Parthasarathy.2

For six years, I lived in the ashram, practised yoga, adopted a vegan lifestyle, and immersed myself in the study of this ancient philosophy — Vedanta.

What is Vedanta?

Vedanta is a Sanskrit word that literally means the end of knowledge. As radical as it sounds, once you know Vedanta, there is nothing more to be known.

It’s like this: Imagine you’re in a dream. While you're in it, you are bound by the rules of that dream — the sky, the people, the threats, the joys. But the moment you wake up, the dream world loses its power over you. You don’t need to analyse every detail of the dream to understand it; you simply realise its illusory nature.

Vedanta is like that. It’s the alarm clock. It takes you by the hand and leads you to the realisation of your original nature — your true Self.

Yet, unlike other mystical schools of thought that get lost in abstract ideas, Vedanta is intensely practical. It accepts the reality of our current human experience — that we function with a body, a mind, and intellect — and teaches us exactly how to navigate the messy day-to-day, guiding us step-by-step toward ultimate transcendence.

A Universal Philosophy

In contrast to most religions, Vedanta was not founded by a single prophet, messiah, or master. Instead, it was mapped out by a galaxy of anonymous sages and saints.

This gives Vedanta a uniquely universal edge. Its truths are timeless, not because one person declared them, but because generations of enlightened souls independently arrived at the same understanding and conclusions through disciplined living, reflection, and meditation.

What makes Vedanta strikingly urgent today is that it teaches the rare art of combining dynamic, effective action with profound inner peace.

By instilling higher values and right action, Vedanta provides a blueprint for career success, business ethics, and domestic harmony. It guides you toward peace of mind amid action, rendering you completely unflappable, no matter what chaos swirls around you.

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Why It Matters Today

Stepping onto that plane at 26 wasn’t a retreat from the world; it was a deep dive into the very mechanics of how to live in it.

Today’s world is louder, faster, and people are more fearful and anxious than ever before.

Vedanta matters today because it reminds us that the quality of our lives is never determined by our bank accounts, our resumes, or our social status, but by the clarity of our internal state.

Looking back at those six years in the ashram, I realise that the timeless principles I studied under Swamiji are not just concepts in a book. They are the anchor of my existence.

They are living proof that the ancient past still holds the brightest key to our chaotic present — and they are the only manual you need for a truly peaceful future.

Thank you for reading.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ♾️ The Elder Sage

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For thousands of years, the Bhagavad Gita has inspired philosophers, poets, saints, and seekers in their search for meaning.1

Though born on a battlefield in ancient India, the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita remains timeless because its philosophy is Vedanta — a universal philosophy for all humanity.2

It speaks to the eternal struggles of human life: fear, grief, purpose, duty, attachment, and the search for lasting peace.

The Gita is not a book to rush through. It is a scripture to live by. A companion in times of confusion. A guide when the mind is restless. A light when life feels uncertain.

What is remarkable is not only the depth of its philosophy, but the extraordinary range of minds it has touched across centuries. Some of the world’s greatest thinkers stood in awe before its wisdom.

To Einstein, the Gita placed worldly concerns into perspective. Compared to its vast vision of existence, much of human anxiety appeared small and fleeting.

For Thoreau, the Gita was not merely literature — it was nourishment for the intellect and soul.

Millions have discovered the same truth: the Gita has an uncanny ability to speak directly to the human condition. Open any page, and often the answer you seek appears.

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Its teachings are eternal because they address eternal problems: fear, attachment, grief, desire, confusion, ego, purpose, and inner peace.

The Gita teaches that lasting happiness cannot come from external possessions or changing circumstances. It reminds us that life is constantly changing — success and failure, pleasure and pain, gain and loss all come and go. Wisdom lies in remaining steady amidst the changing tides of life.

At its heart, the Gita is a call to rise above weakness and live with clarity, discipline, courage, and selflessness.

Act wholeheartedly, the Gita says — but do not lose yourself in anxiety over results. This single principle has the power to transform daily life from stress to serenity.

The enduring power of the Bhagavad Gita lies in its extraordinary ability to awaken the human spirit. It does not ask us to escape life, but to face life’s challenges with dignity and poise.

At the heart of the Gita is Vedanta — the timeless philosophy that teaches that true strength lies not in controlling one’s circumstances, but in mastering oneself.

The battlefield of the Gita symbolises the battlefield within every human being: the struggle between right and wrong, clarity and confusion, courage and fear, wisdom and impulse.

This is why the Gita continues to live across centuries, because it speaks to something universal in all of us. Every human being longs for peace. Everyone faces uncertainty, loss, disappointment, and change. And everybody seeks something lasting amidst the fleeting nature of life.

To read the Gita is not merely to study a scripture. It’s to encounter a philosophy that has the power to transform the way we think, act, live, and face the world.

Perhaps that is why generation after generation continues to return to it.

Not simply for knowledge, but for strength, clarity, courage — and ultimately, for peace.

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Read what the Bhagavad Gita teaches about staying steady in a shaky world.

Till next time, 
Be well, 
Meredith ♾️ The Elder Sage

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The Bhagavad Gita is one of the world’s most revered scriptures. It is a powerful guide to handling life with a calm mind and a clear intellect, especially during times of stress, change, or emotional upheaval.

Unlike any other scripture, the Gita opens on a battlefield.

Arjuna, a master archer and the greatest warrior of his time, stands ready for battle. For thirteen years, he and his brothers have prepared for war. The kingdom they once ruled was usurped by their cousin, and they were exiled.

But just before the battle begins, Arjuna asks Krishna, his charioteer and friend, to place the chariot between the two armies so he can see who he must face.

What he sees undoes him.

Across the field are not enemies, but his own cousins, teachers, elders, and friends. His composure collapses. His bow slips from his hands. His body trembles — and he refuses to fight.

Witnessing Arjuna’s agitation, Krishna remains silent. He knows there is no point in speaking when someone is emotionally unhinged. Krishna doesn’t say a word until Arjuna surrenders to Him for guidance in Chapter II, Verse 7.

Arjuna’s breakdown is not unique. It’s human.

We remain composed while life is in our favour. But when it turns — when plans fall apart, when relationships fail, when there’s loss or uncertainty of any kind — our composure goes with it.

We forget to pause. We react and take things personally. We become overwhelmed, confused, and unable to act with clarity.

This is where the Gita becomes invaluable as a guide to daily living with calm, clarity, and composure.

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What is Unflappability?

Being unflappable is the highest art of living.

It’s the ability to witness your mind and the world with love and attention, without getting emotionally entangled.

Most people do the opposite. They get involved with the hope of satisfaction, only to lose themselves and whatever peace they had.

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This body will be 62 in July ‘26. Over the last six decades, there is one thing I know to be true: life is impermanent. It’s constantly changing.

Just look at what the world was like fifty years ago. It was very different from what it is today. The forties, fifties, and sixties, right up to now — each decade has been different. Every year, month, week and day, the world changes.

You have changed… I have changed… everything has changed.

The person you were yesterday is not the person you are today. The you who went to sleep last night is not the you who woke up this morning. You might have been thinking one way last night, but now, after a good night’s sleep, you’re thinking just the opposite.

Today your life might be great... Everything is just the way you want it to be. Or things might not be the way you want them. You may have lost a friend, and you’re feeling sad. Your child might be unwell, or your partner might be angry about work, and it’s affecting your relationship.

Whatever your situation, there’s one guarantee… It will change.

Good becomes bad and bad becomes good in an instant. That’s life. Morning becomes noon and noon becomes night. Nothing remains the same. Friends become enemies and enemies become friends. Children grow up. Profits go down.

Life is full of changes. It is passing, fleeting and ephemeral, like a river; it is never the same from one moment to the next.

The sooner we accept this fundamental truth, the sooner our lives become smoother, and our minds become balanced. Instead of jumping for joy and sinking into sorrow, we remain steady and composed amid the highs and lows of life.

Two Selves

So when it comes to turning 62, or any age, you have a choice of where you place your focus: on this ever-changing self or that changeless Self.

If you focus on the changes in your body, on what is fading, you will never find peace. You will long for what has passed and feel incomplete in what is. You will crave your lost youth and always feel dissatisfied.

Thus, you will search… outwardly. For more, better, different; hoping something will finally satisfy you. But it never does. Because what you are seeking cannot be found out there. It must be discovered within.

Seek Wisdom

Turn inward. Gain knowledge; not of the world, but of the Self. Contemplate sacred texts — and you will find that this knowledge does something extraordinary: it removes the restlessness within: the anxiety, the dissatisfaction, the sense that something is missing.

Spiritual knowledge fills you up… internally.

So, whether life rises or falls, you remain full. Complete and unruffled. Not indifferent, but detached — full of love and understanding.

So when it comes to turning sixty-two, there is very little to say. Age is just a number.
In a moment, it will be seventy. That’s simply the nature of life.

So don’t chase what’s passing. Seek what is permanent. Embrace the pursuit of wisdom. Not the fleeting knowledge of the world, but the profound understanding of the Self.

Know That. And you will find the peace, fulfilment, bliss, and contentment that has been waiting within you all along.

Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith ∞ The Elder Sage

Meet the Author

In a single second, life can turn completely upside down — and show you what you’re really made of.

It began just over a week ago, on Good Friday. My husband and I had just spent ten glorious days skiing in Corvara, Alta Badia, celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary — a long-awaited gift to ourselves. Everything felt effortless. Light. Perfect.

We were having a ball. By the end of our ten days, I had proudly skied 15 slopes (24 km) in a day. Not bad.

But then, in an instant, everything changed.

I fell.

I’d fallen before, quite spectacularly, I’ve got to say, and walked away with nothing more than bruises. But this was different.

Before I explain the fall, there’s something worth mentioning.

This was an extra day of skiing. An unplanned indulgence — like a dab of wasabi: exciting in the moment, but a second later you’re questioning why you ever thought it was a good idea.

And, as it turns out, it wasn’t a good idea. But more about that later.

Back to the fall.

The slopes were new. We were now in Plan de Gralba in Val Gardena. I’m an intermediate skier; Paul is advanced. He enjoys the steep runs, but I don’t. I prefer control and predictability — solid ground beneath my feet. Not ideal for skiing, but I’ve never been one to take too many risks. I always prefer to err on the side of caution.

From Paul’s perspective, I had improved out of sight. He had no doubt about my ability to handle the steeper slopes.

So we took the lift to the top.

Standing there, looking down, he pointed out the blue runs — the ones within my comfort zone. But to reach them, I had to traverse a short red run.

He skied ahead a few metres down the slope and waited.

“Come on,” he said. “You can do it.”

I hesitated. A subtle tightening inside — the kind you cannot afford on a ski slope.

He waited. But I could sense his impatience.

So I pushed off.

One turn. Then another.

And then I was down.

“Ouch.”

I raised my arm. “I’ve hurt my knee.”

“No, you haven’t,” I heard him say.

Yes, I have!” I yelled.

A paramedic was at my side within moments.

“Are you okay?” He said.

“No. I need help.”

Another paramedic arrived. They helped me to my feet and checked whether I could stand. My knee felt very unstable.

“I can’t ski,” I said.

So they brought a snowmobile and carried me down.

Strangely, I wasn’t in much pain. I simply enjoyed the ride. This is something I’ve learnt through Vedanta: to meet each moment as it comes and to find the good in it — even in adversity.1

So that’s what I did. I breathed in the mountain air. I spoke to the paramedics in my broken Italian. We laughed. They sympathised. They were kind, gentle, and unhurried.

Since studying Vedanta, I’ve come to see that the best and worst of life are simply experiences. They come and go. Nothing stays long enough to justify losing your balance.

Everything passes. Including this.

There’s a beautiful Sanskrit word called Titiksha, which is the capacity to endure difficulty with grace. To meet discomfort without agitation.

A beautiful quality worth cultivating.

The next thing to happen was that Paul picked up the car and drove me to the doctor. I watched the mountains pass by, still calm, still at ease.

While driving, he said, almost casually, “Don’t be alarmed, but I don’t think we’re insured for today.”

I said, “It’ll be fine. We’re with RAC. They’ll look after us.”

(We had ski insurance for ten days, not eleven.)

The doctor saw me immediately. X-rays were taken, and he explained that “My left knee was like a jelly pudding.” But to understand the full extent of the damage, I needed an MRI, which meant travelling to another clinic.

So we went.

If you’ve never had an MRI, it’s a strange experience. Fifteen minutes of absolute stillness — not even a twitch was allowed. And the noise was deafening. Mechanical and relentless. Yet, despite it all, the process was seamless.

I couldn’t help but admire the Italian system, especially the ethos of the Dolomiti Sports Clinic, which is designed specifically for ski injuries and where diagnosis and surgery occur with remarkable speed.

But the results were grim. Two cruciate ligaments were torn, and the meniscus was badly damaged. In essence, a full knee reconstruction was necessary.

I could have gone into surgery that evening, but Paul wanted to confirm the insurance coverage first. It was going to be an expensive operation.

But confirming cover proved complicated. It was Easter. In Australia, everything shuts down. Still, there was an emergency line, and Paul managed to reach someone in America. No one mentioned the dates, so it all seemed fine to proceed. Still, there was no confirmation from Australia. Which meant one thing: we would have to pay up front.

The doctors were clear — this kind of injury required immediate surgery. Waiting until we returned to Australia, despite having private healthcare, wasn’t advisable.

So on Saturday, Paul paid the €15,000 bill, and I went in for surgery.

The two-hour operation was like a comma in a sentence — barely a pause. One moment, I was there, being prepared. The next, it was over.

On Easter Sunday, I met Tao, the physiotherapist. She was from Georgia, just thirty years old, bright and full of warmth.

“I like your pants,” she said.

“They’re from India,” I replied — and just like that, a conversation began.

I told her I had lived in India for six years, and had returned many times since. She was intrigued.

“What were you doing there?”

“Studying philosophy.”

“Really? What kind?”

“Vedanta.”

For me, meeting someone genuinely interested in Vedanta is rare — and deeply satisfying. We spoke for two hours about human nature and small miracles, as we worked through the therapy.

At one point, I smiled and said, “I’m almost certain I had this accident just to meet you.”

After physio, I was allowed back to the hotel, where I continued to rest.

On Easter Monday, we had to leave and head back to Venice. But before we left, Paul got some bad news.

“They’re not paying,” he said.

RAC travel insurance had confirmed that the ski portion of our holiday was covered only until April 2nd. The accident happened on April 3rd, Good Friday.

One day.

That was all it took.

I had believed they would assist. After all, that was their job. That’s what we paid them for. Instead, we found ourselves on our own — injured, overseas, and paying for everything.

But I don’t say this to complain. The mistake was ours, and we take full responsibility. Yet, to have our claim denied and be cut off from any assistance — to have no discussion. No exception. No help was a genuine blow.

We both felt flat — for a moment. But we decided to put it behind us and keep moving forward. We had a drive ahead of us to Venice, and that required all our focus.

So we drove. Forgetting the past, not concerned about the future. Our full attention was on the road. Consequently, we enjoyed the road trip immensely.

I should mention that the emergency organisation working on behalf of RAC was exceptional. Human, responsive, and genuinely helpful. They arranged flight options for us, including upgrades so I could lie flat, and even lodged a complaint to RAC on our behalf.

Venice was another adventure. It’s a city with no cars — just vaporettos (water buses), water taxis and gondolas. You have to walk to get anywhere. This was our third visit, so it didn’t bother me that I would have to stay mostly in the hotel. I saw it as an opportunity for rehabilitation.

So, we dropped the rental car at the airport and took a water taxi into the city. I was slightly apprehensive; it meant being carefully lowered into the boat. But it was all good.

It was a beautiful day. And a fabulous way to arrive in Venice.

Finally, in the hotel room, Paul and I breathed a sigh of relief.

What an ordeal.

And yet… here we were.

In Venice.

On crutches, unable to go far — but still, incredibly happy.

The flights arranged for us were long and indirect, avoiding certain regions. But we discovered a shorter route via Dubai — Venice to Dubai, then onto Perth. With a ceasefire in place and reassurance from friends in Dubai, we felt comfortable choosing that option.

So that’s how we travelled home.

And as I sit with it all — the fall, the surgery, the cost, the uncertainty — I’m reminded of something simple.

Life is a flow of experiences. Some we welcome. Others we would never choose. And in that moment, we have a choice: to resist or to accept, to collapse or to remain steady.

We may not control what happens to us, but we do have a say in how we respond.

That is where our freedom lies.

Everything passes. The best of things and the worst. So why not meet each experience with a little grace?

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it for you. If you have any questions or anything you’d like to say, feel free to write them in the comments.

Until next time,
Be Well,

Meredith, The Elder Sage

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Many people have given up hope of ever finding happiness. Not because happiness doesn’t exist, but because they have been searching for it in circumstances, possessions, and other people. They believe that a new relationship, a better job, more money, a larger house, or the approval of others will bring them the happiness they desire.

However, happiness isn't found on the surface of life; it's discovered in the depths of wisdom and the heights of noble thought.

The tragedy is that we have been conditioned to look outward rather than inward.

We chase experiences, accumulate possessions, and try to arrange the world in ways that comfort and satisfy us. But even when we reach our desired level of ease and satisfaction, there is always a nagging feeling of incompleteness. Something still to fulfil. And this is endless.

This is because two forces drive our lives.

1. The first is a persistent feeling of inadequacy — a subtle sense that something is missing. It isn’t loud; it simply stays in the background, quietly influencing everything we do. Even during times of great pleasure or success, it lingers. We achieve something, and for a moment, it seems enough. But soon, the emptiness returns.

2. The second is the constant desire for fulfilment — the urge to fill the void and remedy this situation. This is what drives us outward. It prompts us to seek, acquire, improve, and become. It tells us that somewhere ahead, in the next experience or the next achievement, we will finally feel complete.

Together, these two create an endless cycle: a sense of lack appears. Desire then steps in to fill it. For a moment, the mind feels satisfied. Then the lack returns. So we begin again — searching for fulfilment.

But what if there was another way? A way to find more lasting fulfilment? A way that doesn’t require us to do anything, except shift our attention?

Let’s consider the following experience.

Have you ever been absorbed in a beautiful sunset, a piece of music, or a work of art, that for a moment you forgot yourself completely?

In that instant, no one was trying to enjoy the experience. Yet strangely, that was the moment of deepest happiness.

The same principle applies to creativity and inspiration.

A writer does not produce their finest piece while thinking, “I am writing something remarkable.”

A musician does not create great music while thinking, “I am performing brilliantly.”

The work becomes alive only when the sense of “I am doing this” disappears.

There is no one trying to enjoy, achieve, or become. There is no sense of “What am I getting out of this?” There is only complete attention and presence. The writer becomes the writing. The musician becomes the music. The doer vanishes, and something greater begins to flow.

Joy. Happiness. Contentment.

When the Mind Becomes Full

Picture rain falling.

Rain falls only after the atmosphere becomes saturated with moisture. The air can hold water vapour only up to a certain point. When that point is exceeded, the clouds release their burden, and rain pours down.

Before the rain, there is often a strange stillness in the air — a sense that something is about to happen. Then suddenly the sky opens, and the rain falls.

The human mind works in a similar fashion. At first, the mind is scattered. It is filled with countless desires and distractions. In such a state, nothing remarkable happens. But when a noble thought fills the mind and drives out every other distraction, something incredible occurs.

The mind becomes still.

Suddenly, like the rain, ideas begin to emerge and expand. Incredible insights. Solutions to problems.

Don’t we say, “It struck me.”

In truth, it struck only after the (small) self stepped aside.

Sages, throughout history, have long understood this.

As long as we insist on being the enjoyer, happiness slips through our fingers. But when the ego (small self) steps aside, something extraordinary happens.

Life itself begins to flow through us. Thoughts become clear. Actions become effortless. And the subtle hum of happiness begins to emerge.

Children often reveal this truth naturally.

A child becomes completely absorbed in play, forgetting everything else. In that moment, there is no self-consciousness or concern for recognition. There is only play. That is why children can experience such spontaneous joy.

But as we grow older, we gradually become preoccupied with ourselves — with our achievements, our status, the opinions of others and our own self-importance.

The ego grows louder, and with it the restless search for happiness.

A New Way of Life

The question is: how can this level of happiness become our natural state? How can we learn to live this way — not occasionally, but consistently?

Read more

Everyone wants to be happy, yet most people seek happiness in the external world — in circumstances, possessions, and other people.

But happiness isn’t found in these things. Or if it is, it’s only temporary. The true source of happiness lies within us: in the way we think. But not just any kind of thinking. It’s thinking, not with the mind, but with the intellect.1

According to the language of ancient philosophy, Sanskrit, the faculty of thinking is called buddhi, intellect.

Unlike the mind, which rambles, reacts impulsively and later regrets, the intellect pauses, reflects, and considers the consequences before taking action.

Intellect is the forgotten, yet remarkable faculty that thinks clearly and cleverly.

It is our inner power to discern, reason, and make wise decisions.

While the mind thinks negatively and creates problems after problems, the intellect thinks positively and solves them.

It is often said that our thoughts determine the world we see. This means that if our thoughts are negative, then the world we see is negative; but if our thoughts are positive, we see a positive world.

Over a hundred years ago, philosopher William James suggested a simple fix for life’s frustrations. He said, “Choose one thought over another.” In other words, when negative thoughts come up, deliberately replace them with better ones.

Since then, psychologists and self-help educators have repeated this advice endlessly. We’re told to think positively, to swap negative thoughts with positive ones, and to develop a better attitude towards life.

There’s truth in this. Thoughts do shape our experience. A mind full of resentment and pessimism will inevitably lead to a troubled life. However, positive thinking alone is unsustainable because negative thoughts keep coming back — and sometimes even stronger than before.

The solution, therefore, lies in understanding the nature of the mind and intellect.

The Mind and Intellect

Most people assume that the mind is the organ of thinking. But if we observe carefully, we notice that the mind cannot think. It can only ramble from one thought to another — remembering the past, imagining the future, and often reacting emotionally to whatever is happening now.

Left to itself, the mind behaves like a two-year-old child. A child is emotional, excitable, easily distracted, and prone to tantrums. It cannot manage a household or make responsible decisions. For this reason alone, a child needs supervision.

The intellect plays the role of a loving parent. It watches and guides a child's actions, preventing it from getting into trouble and hurting itself.

Similarly, the intellect watches the mind, guides it, and keeps it from running into worry, anxiety, fear, anger, addiction, and despair.

When the intellect performs its role well, the mind becomes calm, balanced, and happy.

But when the intellect is absent, and the mind is left unsupervised, it’s like a child left alone in charge of the home.

No parent would say to a two-year-old, “Darling, mummy and daddy are going away for the weekend. Please take care of everything while we’re away.”

That would never happen. Yet it’s exactly what we do with ourselves. We allow our restless, immature minds to run the show.

The Non-Thinking Mind

As Albert Einstein once said, “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.”

Most people assume they are thinking clearly. But in reality, much of what we call thinking is simply the mind wandering from one thought to another.

The mind cannot think. It reacts. Worries. Imagines. Left unguided, it simply follows its feelings, preferences and emotions.

The intellect, however, is different. It is clear, focused, rational, clever and wise. When the intellect is strong, it guides the mind toward better choices in life.

The Thinking Intellect

So perhaps when William James spoke of choosing one thought over another, he was pointing to a deeper truth: we must allow our intellect, our sovereign power, to supervise and guide our restless mind. Then life becomes smoother, clearer, more peaceful and happier.

Like a wise ruler governing its domain, when the intellect governs our thoughts, everything falls into place — emotions settle, the body relaxes, and actions become measured and thoughtful.

In this natural order, a deeper sense of well-being emerges.

Change the way you think, and the world you experience changes. For the mind will not govern itself. It must be guided — and that responsibility rests with you.

Govern your mind, or your mind will govern you.

Thank you for reading. If you have any questions, feel free to write them in the comments.

Until next time,
Be Well,

Meredith, The Elder Sage

Next week, an essay on horizontal versus vertical happiness, as touched on in the note below, will be delivered same time, same place.

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Beyond Sitting Still

Dear Reader,

You might be wondering why I’m welcoming you now, almost a year after starting here on Substack. The reason is simple: last week, one of my notes (below) had the great pleasure of reaching thousands of new readers.

It was posted like any other — with truth, honesty and sincerity. People seemed to like it, and the momentum grew from there.

So I’d like to take a moment to welcome our new readers to The Elder Sage.

A fellow writer recently asked, “How did I come to choose such a sublime name? Was it simply the title of the publication or about me?”

The short answer is: it’s both. It’s the name of the publication, and it’s also me. I’ve reached the age of an elder — well, not quite, but I’m growing into it — and I’ve spent more than thirty-four years in the spiritual field, six of which were spent in India at what I often call a spiritual boot camp: the Vedanta Academy.1

So while I’m still growing into the title, I’ve at least put in the hours — and in that sense, the name has been slowly earned over the years.

I’m a practical philosopher who has spent over three decades immersed in eternal wisdom — the knowledge of the Self. I live simply in a small cabin on a hill on the south-west coast of Australia, with my husband Paul and Huxley, our Airedale.

Our nearest neighbour is over a mile away. So there is space. Lots of it. And while this sounds idyllic, this coastline is known for its winds. And when they rise, the cabin can feel as though it might slide down the hill and into the water below.

The roof rattles. 
The walls tremble. 
The winds howl.

Life is no different.

When the winds of life howl — loss, uncertainty, change — the world shakes. And in those moments, I turn to the philosophy I have studied, taught and lived for decades. Not just for comfort, but as a solid foundation.

I’ve learnt that while we cannot stop the winds of life, we need not be blown about by them.

The external may rage, but the internal can remain steady.

This is what I share with you here: how to live fully and enjoy life, yet not be inwardly disturbed by it. How to remain calm in turbulence. How to stand firm on your own hill, whatever weather comes your way.

If that kind of inner strength speaks to you, then you are very welcome here. This is a place for learning how to live fully in the world without being shaken by it.

If you have any questions or you’d just like to say “Hello,” please don’t hesitate to leave a comment.

Until next time,
Be Well,

Meredith, The Elder Sage

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Let’s consider, for a moment, where happiness resides. Does it live in comforts? Money? In a partner or a child? What about recognition or achievement? Or is it somewhere else entirely?

When we look closely, we begin to see a recurring pattern: happiness travels.

In infancy, happiness dwells in our mother’s arms. The whole universe fits inside her warm embrace — nothing else matters. Books mean nothing. Wealth is irrelevant. All joy is right there.

Then, a few years later, happiness relocates to toys. Dollies, cars, and playthings become the centre of everything. I’m almost embaraced to say this, but when I was a child, I believed that Barbie would be with me forever. But toys and Barbie eventually lose their magic.

Happiness moves again. This time to books and games. The child becomes a student, and joy now lives in grades, sport, praise, achievement, and the approval of teachers and peers.

Later still, it migrates to ambition, career, money, and status. The young adult pours everything into work, convinced fulfilment waits just ahead — in the next promotion, the next milestone, the next trip or possession.

Then happiness moves once more. It settles in romance. A partner becomes the new centre of joy — and life reorganises itself around this fresh source of happiness.

Then there’s a child. And for a season, happiness seems to have reached its peak.

Notice the recurring pattern?

At every stage, the feeling is absolute. Final. This is it. This is where happiness truly lives. Yet it never stays. If happiness actually resided in the object itself, it would remain forever. Toys would stay enchanting. The first big success would satisfy permanently. Romance would never settle into routine. And a child would remain at the heart of joy indefinitely.

But this is not what happens.

The glow fades. The centre keeps moving. The mind starts scanning the horizon once again.

So what is really going on?

Think of sunlight moving across the earth. In the morning, it lights up one landmass; by afternoon, it bathes another. We say, “The light is here,” then later, “The light is there.” But the ground is not producing the light. The light belongs to the sun.

In the same way, happiness shines upon objects, people, and experiences, but they are not the source. If they were, happiness would not vanish when circumstances change. A partner could never disappoint. Success could never grow dim.

Yet we watch the same objects that once sparkled become ordinary, even heavy.

The truth is, the world does not contain happiness.

Happiness is in YOU

The moment we label something as “mine,” it glows with value. A book with your own notes feels irreplaceable. Your child is more beautiful than any other. What has changed externally? Nothing. But your sense of “I” has poured itself into the object. You have gilded it with your own self, your own desires, and fallen in love with it.

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For too long, we’ve been sold a fantasy. We’ve been brainwashed into believing that love is all about finding “the one”, falling in love, and living “happily ever after”! But it’s all an illusion — a rush of emotion that doesn’t last.

Love isn’t about falling and breaking your heart; it’s about rising to meet the permanent LOVE that lives within you.

To fall in love is to shrink into dependence, where you’re dependent on the other for your happiness. To rise in love is to grow in understanding. Love is allowing another to be exactly who they are — and not wanting them to be any different.

But a selfish mind feels incomplete and seeks fulfilment outside itself. It moves through life with a restless hunger, scanning every room, every face, silently pleading: “Who will complete me? Who can make me feel whole?”

A selfish mind has an inner blueprint of how love should look, feel, and behave. It wants the other to provide admiration, validation, security, and excitement.

When someone appears to match the blueprint, their needs mirror each other. For they too were searching. They also felt incomplete. They scanned faces for completeness. In that moment of mutual recognition, the chemistry ignites, and they declare, “This is it. This is the one who will fill me.”

And so, they fall in love.

But beneath the romance lies selfish thinking: “I will provide you with everything you need, as long as you give me what I want.” Each one dancing to the tune of each other’s desires.

This is not love.
It’s attachment.

Attachment is love plus selfishness.
Love is attachment minus selfishness.

Love does not arise from need or want but from selflessness. A selfless person has no attachments, harbours no expectations, and makes no demands that life bend to their will. Instead of insisting that the world conform to them, they effortlessly adapt to it.

They move through life with grace, doing what needs to be done — steady in peace, clear in thought, and composed in action.

The love a selfless person has is universal. They have no attachment. No ego. No preferences. Their mind is steady, governed by their inner wisdom. They are able to meet life with clarity, dignity, and poise.

If such a person has a partner, their relationship is built on understanding. Understanding each other’s character completely — their strengths, their weaknesses, their needs and desires.

This deep understanding leads to harmony in relationships.

Where there is selfishness, there is tension. 
Where there is selflessness, there is peace.

You will never find a selfish person who’s truly peaceful and happy. Nor will you find a selfless person who is consumed by fear. Selflessness breaks down fear by dissolving the constant preoccupation with oneself.

The Selfless Love Within

Hidden deep within every human heart lies the divine spirit of Love, which is undying and eternal. Everything else changes, but Love alone is permanent and imperishable.

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I was just twenty-two when the ground beneath my feet began to shudder. It all started the day I married a man my parents warned me not to. Naturally, they thought he wasn’t good enough for their little girl.

Turns out they were right!

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