Meditation

Meditation has become almost synonymous with spiritual practice. You can hardly engage in a conversation about personal growth or exploring the mysteries of the universe without someone mentioning it. It’s often regarded as the most essential tool for gaining insight and discovering answers—spiritual or otherwise. Some might even say it’s the ICE of spiritual first aid: Ice Cures Everything.

Yet, in becoming such a common buzzword, “meditation” risks losing its depth and meaning. To those just stepping into the spiritual world—whose only references might come from film or television—we often forget to explain what meditation truly is, how it works, and how many forms it can actually take.

At its core, meditation is the practice of intentionally connecting to the energies that guide, heal, and comfort us. More precisely, it is a reconnection with the Universe. It’s a mental discipline that brings clarity, relaxation, and awareness by quieting the noise and focusing the mind. The common image is someone seated in lotus position, hands resting on knees, palms facing upward, eyes closed—often accompanied by soft music, nature sounds, or silence.

However, meditation is not limited to that image. It can look and feel very different for different people.

For me, meditation is more than just sitting quietly to clear the mind, induce peace, or invite visions and astral experiences. While those elements can certainly be part of it, the primary purpose of my meditation practice is to receive information. That doesn’t mean it’s the only reason I meditate, but it drives much of my intention.

It took me years to realize that the traditional methods of meditation—stillness, silence, mental blankness—don’t serve me well. Chronic back pain makes prolonged sitting or lying down uncomfortable, and my mind rarely quiets. Thoughts race, collide, and spiral as I process my day—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Ironically, it’s often in those moments of inner turbulence and solitude that I do my deepest thinking, reflecting, and problem-solving.

My gift, however,—and my true form of meditation—is in writing. Not just through journaling or the process of automatic writing, but by simply writing, I can connect with the Universe and my guides as well as channel.

Writing is where my practice bears fruit. Through journaling, storytelling, or simple free-writing, I access the Akashic field. I channel, receive, and communicate with my guides and teachers through words. This isn’t daydreaming or imagination—it’s an intuitive channel.

I am claircognizant, which means I have the ability to “just know” things. Information arrives as a knowing that resonates in my gut—my solar plexus. These insights stay with me long after they arise. Unlike fleeting thoughts, they feel grounded, anchored in truth. While I do use my imagination to help visualize or interpret the information, I’m not seeing it clairvoyantly. Imagination, for me, becomes a tool to give shape and form to what I receive.

That said, I also experience glimpses from other intuitive channels. I’ve heard inner voices answering my questions. I’ve seen flashes of images. I’ve felt discomfort from unseen energies or sensed imbalances in a room. But my dominant clair is always active, and especially so when I’m writing.

I’m not entirely sure when or how this ability developed. Looking back, though, I can trace a thread. For years, I would randomly receive pieces of a mysterious language and mythology—one that eventually grew into a rich, complex narrative of the Universe’s creation. At the time, I thought I was inventing it: just a writer developing world-building material. A language and "backstory" to bring depth to a story I was writing. An exercise in creativity I can contemplate and record in between work activities. Developing the syntax, conjugating verbs, and designing symbols for the alphabet along other necessity elements for a fully-developed lexicon. But in hindsight, I was channeling.

The language came in fragments, seemingly out of nowhere—sometimes while driving, watching TV, or in the middle of everyday tasks. Eventually, I used a few of the words (fewer than 15) in a science fiction novel published in 2015. Yet the language itself expanded to over 2,000 words, and the mythology, though never mentioned in the book, continued to grow alongside it. Even today, I am constantly called back to revisit the language and expand upon it.

Now I see that what I once called "creating" was, in fact, receiving. As years go by, more of the language began to unfold into this sacred language that it was also meant to be an ancient language within the universe of the story. I have learned that a channel was instinctually opened and therefore, I became unaware of the gift my natural talent was tapping into. And naturally, that also meant that the channel was unintentionally left open providing me spontaneously moments of inspiration and insight.

This also occurs during my day to day spiritual activities. I have become so accustomed to contemplating either story ideas and pondering spiritual concepts, the channel --- if every closed---opens up automatically and information comes through. It has also been accustomed that I keep a notebook nearby for such an occasion as my preferred practice is to write in a physical notebook. Easier to transport and easier to access than a laptop or any other electronic device --- especially while teaching students. A quick jot down of the information and I'm free to move about the cabin, and go back and forth as needed with minimum interference to my teaching responsibilities. Plus, it looks like I may be grading assignments at my podium.

With the more traditional and (dare I say) stereotypical method of meditating, I assume the laying position as a way to destress and process information. I use the morning or the night to integrate what I have learned, and perhaps, more importantly, rest. This is how I process the information I get throughout the day while my channel is open...while I journal or record the information I am getting. This method very much works for me.

This is how I meditate and this is what meditation can be. Writing happens to be my way of intentionally and spiritually focusing on connecting with the Universe and Source.