Expect the Unexpected

A common pitfall on the spiritual path is trying to fill the unknown with the known, something I learnt through my own stumbling. When we have insights or experiences that feel profound, deep, or transcendent, it is natural to assume they are ‘the real thing’. We readily identify with those experiences, especially if they lasted for a while (and particularly if they were pleasant) or played a key role on our journey.

Eventually, every experience is bound to fade. If we enter a difficult phase or feel cut off from the clarity we once had, it is tempting to hope or expect those same experiences to return. Because they felt so real (and good), we want them back.

This is a trap. The new is always new. The now is always now. No state is permanent, and every part of the process carries its own flavour, brings distinct insights, and deepens us in unexpected ways. The best mindset, therefore, is to maintain an open mind, drawing no conclusions about what should or should not happen. What you can be certain of is that it will never unfold the way you thought it would. If it did, it would just be a repetition of the old. The new is by default uncertain.

Or as Nisargadatta put it in one of my favourite quotes: “The unexpected is bound to happen. The expected might never come.”

No Path is Walked Twice

My own journey intensified when I (unexpectedly) began devouring books on awakening and enlightenment. Some of these books depicted the paths certain individuals walked before arriving at some sort of realization. While some didn't resonate much, others offered inspiration, help and genuine insight. What I especially learned, however, is that every journey is completely unique. While there may be commonalities in how unity or ultimate reality is recognized and described, the path leading up to that point—and the process following initial awakening—looks very different for everyone.

Some come upon truth by snacking on mushrooms, some by meditation, some by self-inquiry, and of course by a mix of all kinds of things. Some people experience massive energetic shifts, intense kundalini awakenings, visions, and dramatic transcendent states.

For others, the shift is subtle, quiet, and deeply intuitive. The timeline varies wildly, as does the sequence of “stages”. Experiences that were central for someone else might never happen in your journey at all. Your process will, among many other things, depend on the inner work you have done up to now, your personality, your interests, your openness, your psychological conditioning, and your current circumstances.

Yet across all these different paths, a few true constants remain. Beyond your earnestness and genuine longing to discover who You are, any authentic shift is preceded not just by blissful moments and illuminating insights, but at times by long stretches of feeling lost at sea, and at other times, swimming in shark-infested waters—taking more than a few bites along the way.

The highly personal nature of this path became unmistakably evident when it came to the chakras—energy centers that were completely new to me when my journey started. They tend to open—though they are never completely closed, of course—in a different order and at different stages for everyone. You will naturally encounter the most resistance in whichever energy centers hold stored traumatic memories or deep-seated conditioning.

In my own case, the upper chakras cleared fairly smoothly. Related to the second and third chakras, however, I encountered substantial turmoil and friction, making those stages of embodiment particularly demanding.

Another event I clearly remember happened just before the second major shift I encountered. In the days leading up to it, I knew an insight was there—something had cleared, but it hadn't quite hit home. I intuited that I was looking at something completely new through the eyes of old knowledge. After a few days, it dawned on me: I don't remember the exact details, but somehow I was holding fast to a past understanding of Consciousness. The moment that was released, the penny dropped, and a direct realization of Absolute reality came upon me.

Personal experiences as well as inspiration from others and picked up knowledge have their place, but do not expect your map to look like anyone else’s. Forcing your journey into someone else's map will be a hindrance.

My teacher, Hans Laurentius, rarely—if ever—told me what I should expect or encounter. He may have had hunches, but he kept them to himself. Simply put, he knew that he couldn't know. And my path could never mirror his. Though we shared some similar interests, we had different backgrounds, different temperaments, and different psychological conditioning.

Teaching is a Spontaneous Unfoldment

That is why genuine teaching can only happen in the immediate moment. I was never drawn to explicit techniques or rigid disciplines, although I tried my best with them early on the path. I simply had an earnest, burning longing to know who I am, and that longing was a living reality and a spontaneous unfoldment in the present. My meetings with Hans were a mix of exploring questions I had stumbled upon along the way, coupled with an energetic transmission beyond words. This transmission of truth is always alive and spontaneous—direct, without taking a filtered detour through the conceptual mind.

This is not to say that serious self-inquiry or contemplation is without value—both take place in the present moment, utilizing awareness, discernment, intuition, feeling, and analysis. I engaged deeply in both. But waking up will never be the result of accumulating knowledge or following a step-by-step recipe. That cake will never be unique, nor will it taste particularly fresh. Awakening is always a spontaneous happening in the present moment, usually when the mind least expects it.