The Beginning of My Quest

As a teenager, I lived with depression and anxiety. By the age of 12, I had no faith to rely on. Christianity felt too dogmatic and failed to reach my heart, yet I knew I needed to find something.

When I was 13, a psychiatrist prescribed me Rivotril. It only took once for me to realize how easy it would be to depend on that feeling of deep tranquillity that the drug brought - and that's when I decided to look for a faith that would help me get off the medication as quickly as possible.

That was when one of my mother’s friends introduced me to Nichiren Daishonin’s Buddhism. Soon after, I stopped taking Rivotril and started attending meetings. It was there that I first encountered meditation: chanting the mantra Nam-myoho-renge-kyo in front of the Gohonzon (the so-called daimoku*), sometimes for more than an hour. The more I studied, the more it all made sense.

My Unease with Dogmatism

Despite all the enchantment, the words "true Buddhism" in the Lotus Sutra bothered me. That word - true - sounded too rigid. I asked more experienced members about the reason for the expression, but the answers didn't convince me.

I came to realize that my discomfort isn’t limited to religion—it applies to any area of life: whenever something good turns dogmatic or absolutist, I lose interest. In time, I stepped away from the formal practice of Nichiren Buddhism, but I still carry deep respect for it, as it was my entry point into Buddhism.

Today I see myself as a Buddhist, though I don’t strictly adhere to any particular school. I keep my Lotus Sutra and the scroll, and at times I still chant the mantra. More importantly, I’ve come to develop a meditation practice that feels personal and suited to daily life.

5 Conclusions on Meditation Practice

Over time, I realized that meditation isn’t something you learn from rigid rules, but from lived experience. After many starts, pauses, and returns, I’ve come to 5 conclusions that may guide those who want to begin the practice:

1. The Myth that Meditation Means Not Thinking

At first, I felt like I was failing because I spent the whole 10 minutes lost in thought. Eventually, I realized that meditation isn’t about stopping thoughts, but about noticing when we’re caught in an endless loop and gently redirecting attention — sometimes to the breath, sometimes to sounds, the body, or a mantra.

2. Meditation as Mental Hygiene

Much like brushing your teeth, showering, or working out, meditation is a habit of hygiene — but for the mind. At first it may feel unproductive, but over time the mind grows clearer, less cluttered with noise. In today’s world, which is both noisier and less tolerant, this kind of cleansing is more essential than ever.

3. Quality over Quantity

I used to push myself to sit for long stretches without actually being present. I realized it was pointless (unless you’re in a meditation retreat, like the Vipassana retreat I wrote about here). Five minutes of real presence is better than thirty done out of duty.

With time, quality develops alongside quantity — but don’t rush it. Begin small, and do it with intention. 

4. The Mind Is the Only Tool You Need

I’ve meditated in front of the altar, while walking, lying in bed, sunbathing by the pool, and out in the backyard. It isn’t the cushion, the incense, or the altar that matter. The only essential tool is the mind — and that goes with us everywhere.

5. There’s No One Right Way to Meditate

Over the years, I’ve practiced with mantras, breath, walking, and mindfulness. Each season of life seems to ask for a different approach.

The best meditation is the kind that leaves you curious and inspired to come back to it the next day.

Final Thoughts

Meditation taught me that it’s not about fixed formulas, but about finding presence in the middle of chaos. I honor all traditions and methods — especially Nichiren, who first opened this path for me — but today I choose to practice freely. There isn’t one method that works for everyone, yet everyone can find a method that works for them. 

Meditation has no endpoint; it is a continuous process, just like exercising. You can start right now by trying two minutes of attention to the breath. Close your eyes, observe the air moving in and out, and notice what happens. The practice is so simple that we ourselves end up complicating it — when in fact, all it takes is to begin and commit to returning.

With love,

*If you’re curious to know more about Nichiren Daishonin’s Buddhism, the movie “Tina,” about the life of singer Tina Turner, gives a clear glimpse into this philosophy. Tina was a practitioner, and it became a key force in helping her break free from an abusive marriage. I truly recommend watching it.