NOTE: This was originally published as part of my newsletter in November 2025. Subscribe to my newsletter to receive the next Om Letter direct to your inbox once a month.

When I first learned to meditate(not just to understand meditation as a concept, but to truly ‘sit’ without my mind getting in the way of experiencing) I came to understand why I had found it so impossible to do this seemingly simple task for nearly a decade beforehand. What had appeared to be a personal failure was, in hindsight, a simple misunderstanding of what meditation was actually asking of me.

I now tend to think of meditation as akin to swimming in the open ocean, something I grew up doing. Some people are perfectly happy venturing out into the sea. To them it feels vast, alive, and a return to something strangely familiar. While for others, the unknowns that lurk beneath the water’s surface are so terrifying they’ll barely dip their toes in. Both of these instinctive responses are honest reflections of our relationship to uncertainty.

Even for confident swimmers, there is a profound difference between gently gliding along the water’s surface versus diving into the deep. They could run out of breath. A current could appear unexpectedly. Strange, unfamiliar forms might drift past. And there is always the knowledge (unspoken, but present) that they might not resurface. The descent asks for trust, timing, and a willingness to meet what cannot be seen in advance.

Whales descend thousands of metres into the dark, not to escape, but to listen. In those depths, where light cannot reach, sound travels vast distances. Their songs are not performances; they are expressions of being. When they rise to the surface, it is only to breathe, before returning once more to the deep.

Meditation, like the ocean, contains many layers. Near the surface, we encounter the familiar turbulence of the mind: rehearsed narratives about ourselves, echoes of regret or shame from the past, anticipations of what has yet to come. These ripples can feel endless, convincing us that this is all there is. Yet when we descend into ourselves – gently, patiently - these stories begin to quiet. What emerges instead is a more spacious field of awareness. , one that does not require constant affirmation or recognition.

In these inner depths, self-worth is no longer relient upon being seen, understood, or approved of. It arises from on knowing our own sound in the darkness. Depth, in this sense, is not meant to overwhelm or consume us. It exists to remind us of how boundless we truly are. Reminding us of our capacity to listen, and our ability to return to the surface carrying something essential with us: an inner knowing of who we are beneath the external noise.

With love,

OM x

Monthly Mantra

“Wisdom says we are nothing. Love says we are everything. Between these two our life flows.”

Jack Kornfield

November Playlist

A gentle Yin playlist to keep you company on rainy days

LISTEN HERE

November 2025 | Imbue

Monthly Mantra

“Wisdom says we are nothing. Love says we are everything. Between these two our life flows.”

November Playlist

October 2025 | Resolve