I was born in Sydney in the 1960s and grew up in the small country town of Murwillumbah in North-Eastern New South Wales.
Life was simple back then.
My brother and I had a happy childhood with loving Christian parents who cared for us deeply. Mum and Dad often reminded us, even before we could fully understand, how special we were, because they wanted and chose us through adoption.
Dad worked at the bank. Mum played golf. He never wanted her to work, which meant she was always there for us—in the kitchen stirring pots or making Pavlovas for the Christian fetes, at the dining table bent over her sewing machine, or enjoying golf with friends while we were at school.
Church and Sunday School were an integral part of my upbringing. I remember sitting in Church, more interested in the ladies’ hats and dresses than in the sermon. The preaching, hymns, and rituals didn’t resonate with me, and I felt indifferent during Sunday School. I always felt like a bit of an odd duck in the Christian community. And as soon as I was old enough, I stopped going.
Fast forward to my early twenties. I was living the dream in a stylish apartment on the Gold Coast. It was the ’80s; a time of big hair, shoulder pads, and big egos—and I was right there in the thick of it. I had recently graduated from fashion school, married a maître d', and landed a job with one of Australia’s top fashion designers.
At 24, I had it all. At least that’s what I thought.
But I was wrong.
All of a sudden, the ground beneath me trembled, and everything fell apart.
Three tragedies in three months!
First, my father, the gentlest, kindest man I knew, was diagnosed with a rare and debilitating disease. Secondly, one month after my father’s death, my husband left me for another woman. And thirdly, my dear cousin was killed in a car accident while driving home for Christmas.
To say that my world had turned upside down was an understatement.
Looking back, it's all a bit of a blur, but I do remember one night, in a moment of deep despair, a voice inside me said, “Stop dwelling on the past and feeling sorry for yourself. Start living, and seek the Truth.”
Seek the Truth.
That's exactly what I did. For two years, I became a spiritual shopper, devouring self-help books as if they were food for my soul, attending numerous courses, and exploring various modalities that promised answers, from rebirthing to past-life regressions to firewalking. Each one was like a stepping stone, drawing me closer to the Truth I was seeking.
Then a friend suggested I fly to Perth for a course called Mastermind. It promised great things, so I booked a ticket and flew to the other side of the country.
At Mastermind, Garry, the teacher, spoke about emotions and the restless mind, saying that if we don’t develop the capacity to think clearly and manage the mind and its emotions, we will never find peace.
Then he held up a book, heavily highlighted and full of post-it notes. It was Vedanta Treatise by Swami A. Parthasarathy. Then Garry said, “Everything I know comes from this book.”1
That night, the family I was staying with happened to have the book on their shelf. I opened it and couldn’t put it down. For the first time, I was reading something that made complete sense.
And as if the universe itself were conspiring, Swamiji arrived in Perth that very week, for lectures and a retreat, as part of his Australian tour.2
Living Truth
The hall was packed. Swamiji, wearing simple white robes, sat cross-legged on the stage. He closed his eyes and chanted Om, filling the auditorium and calming the restless souls before him.
Then he spoke, as if speaking directly to me. He said, “All your stress is because of discontentment. You try to cover the emptiness you feel with possessions. But nothing external can give you permanent peace. Peace must be found within, by gaining knowledge of the Self.”
I was electrified.
They say, “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” And I couldn’t have been more ready.
The church of my childhood had told me what to believe. This Swami was showing me how to think, how to manage my emotions, and gain peace.
Flying back to the Gold Coast, my body was on the plane, but my mind was already in India.
When I told my mother that I wanted to study Vedanta in an ashram in India, she surprised me. Despite relying on me after Dad’s death, she simply said: “You’re going on a big adventure. You’re going to learn a great deal about life.”
And so I went to the Vedanta Academy near Pune, in India, for a three-year full-time residential course of discipline, study, and inner growth. It was a life far from the church pews of my childhood, but one that finally answered the questions that had burned within me since those dark days of grief.
Living in an Ashram was life-changing. I developed such a close and wonderful bond with Swamiji. It was like having a personal relationship with God. He was incredible, and the philosophy was mind-blowing and grounding. I never once felt uncomfortable or out of place.
And what I loved most was how psychologically grounding the philosophy was. It didn’t ask me to accept doctrines or follow rituals; it asked me to question, inquire, and think for myself.
For the first time, I felt like myself. I wasn’t following someone else’s path; I was walking my own. That is why I left the Church for an ashram. Not to escape, but to discover who I really am.
And maybe that’s the real challenge for all of us: to stop settling for borrowed beliefs, but to have the courage to search for the Truth ourselves—no matter where it takes us.
So now I send this story out into the world with the quiet hope that it will reach the right eyes and minds.
Thank you for reading.
If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out.
Till next time,
Be Well,
Meredith — The Elder Sage
Vedanta Treatise is the book that changed my life.
I love reading your story. Adopted by such kind and loving parents. Surrendering through huge suffering. Your mother’s encouragement and blessing on your tremendous adventure ahead.
It is hard not to reflect on one’s own life. I was not adopted but don’t feel understood or unconditionally loved by either of my parents. When I returned to the Indian Himalayas last year for a 21 day Pranic Healing Yoga Intensive, in silence - my mother called me to say goodbye, and mockingly commented why anyone would ‘pay’ to be in silence. She later said she was joking, but it was not funny. My older sister died by suicide the year before. Much suffering with much stubbornness in the past here. It is through the discipline and dedication to my yoga practice, that I can refine my self and my spirit - over and over again. Thank you for being here x
What a beautiful and special journey, Meredith! Your mom’s reaction🥹the Swami quote is so good.. 🙏grateful you’re sharing what you learned here on Substack!