The Challenge of Expression
7/7/2026
Growing up with four older brothers and a brilliant and intellectually curious mother, I always enjoyed learning, understanding, debating, and talking about life and the world we live in. In high school, I remember many times enjoying discussing life’s big existential questions with friends until dawn. At university, I studied political science and philosophy with passion, fully expecting that one day I would be a politician, a journalist, or a professor. In other words, I always thought that some sort of public expression would be part of my future.
And yet I just turned 60 and I have never published a word. Nor have I ever given a speech.
Why?
During my 20s and 30s, when I was passionate about world affairs and was travelling and working in Asia and Europe, I never felt I knew enough about any given topic to make a valuable contribution. Nor did I feel I had a particularly original point of view that needed to be heard. In fact, I could pretty much always find someone who expressed my views better than I could, and with more verve and authority. As a young man, I certainly felt the desire to gain recognition through public expression and I admired those around me who had the courage to make such contributions, but I never wanted my desire to be heard to exceed the value of my contribution. So I remained silent - in public that is, in private I was never short of opinions.
Later in life, in my mid-forties, when my interest in spiritual matters returned after going dormant for a couple of decades, the sages and saints whose teachings I studied - Jesus, the Buddha, Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, Shankara Charya, Rumi, Hafiz - were so far above me in every way that I gave up even the thought of ever publishing anything. How could I possibly produce anything better than whatever texts they left us?’, I felt. I also felt there was nothing I could add to improve upon the work of modern spiritual teachers such as Alan Watts, Eckart Tolle, Adyashanti, Tony Parsons, Lisa Cairns, Swami Sarvapriyananda, Rupert Spira, or Louise Kay.
So I remained silent, and for another reason too. As I grew older, I came to recognize an even greater obstacle: the nature of spiritual truth itself, and the fact that it is, famously, inexpressible. Even the greatest of teachers can do nothing more than use pointers to the Truth. Or list everything it is not. Personally, I found that every time I tried to capture a spiritual insight in my journal, no matter how pure or blissful or satisfying in the moment, its description was always woefully inadequate in comparison to the original experience.
None of this has changed. Ultimate Truth remains inexpressible, and I have nothing to add that is higher, better, or richer than what sages - ancient and new - have already expressed so clearly.
What has changed is my understanding of expression.
For many years I assumed that the purpose of expression was either to make a completely original contribution or to communicate truth as accurately as possible. Gradually I came to see that expression serves another purpose: it is part of the path itself.
That realization came unexpectedly through my practice of Naad Yoga, the yoga of sound, and in particular through a simple chant known as the Vishnu Invocation.
It changed not only how I think about spiritual practice, but also why I have finally decided to write.