Meditation is not meant to be a solemn or dutiful task. It should be a celebration—joyful, playful, alive.
It is not something to do out of obligation, but something to enjoy, like dancing, singing, or watching the clouds drift by. If you approach meditation as a duty, you miss its essence.It cannot bloom in the weight of seriousness. Meditation happens in a light, relaxed, playful mood. Seriousness is heavy; and what is heavy pulls you down.
To meditate, you need the spirit of a child playing on the beach— collecting seashells, chasing the wind, running freely under the sun. In that lightness, you grow wings. And with wings, your inner energy begins to rise. This rising, this upward movement of energy—that is meditation.
I don’t want you to be serious. In fact, I am deeply against seriousness. It is a kind of spiritual illness. Laughter, on the other hand, is a sign of spiritual well-being. Laughter lightens you. It lifts the burden of the mind. In laughter, the mind steps aside—effortlessly. If a person cannot laugh, the doors to awakening remain closed. For me, laughter is a profound spiritual value. Yet no religion has ever truly embraced it. They have glorified seriousness instead— and in doing so, have made the world psychologically unwell.