Once, there was a man named Joshua, who lived a life many admired. He held a high-ranking role in corporate tech sales, thriving in the sleek, performance-driven world of targets and achievements. His days were measured in KPIs and commission checks, his success lined in glass towers and polished shoes. He purchased a house with clean lines and soft lighting — the kind you see in lifestyle magazines. He envisioned a family, a future, stability. By all accounts, he was on the path. The right path.

 

But beneath the tailored suits and perfectly timed email sequences, something subtle stirred — a quiet ache, like a forgotten song echoing in the back of his mind.

 

Then came the silence. The great pause. The COVID-19 pandemic brought the world to its knees, and with it, Joshua was brought to a halt. No more flights, no more conferences, no more noise. There was only the sound of his own breath and the strange, unrelenting stillness of time. In this unexpected space, something ancient inside him stirred.

 

As the days passed and the world fell away, Joshua found himself contemplating things he had long buried beneath deadlines: the meaning of success, the fragility of time, and the mystery of being alive. Was the life he pursued truly his own, or a projection — a curated mirage shaped by well-meaning parents, glossy ads, and a society that worships achievement over alignment?

 

It was in this fertile stillness that he encountered esoteric knowledge. Words like “vibration,” “consciousness,” “prana,” and “karma” appeared to him not as abstractions, but as whispers from some other place. He began to devour books, watch lectures, and meditate beneath the aching weight of unspoken questions. A new kind of hunger arose — not for wealth, but for truth.

 

Eventually, the structures of his former life could no longer contain him. Joshua resigned. Sold the house. Gave away most of what he owned. With nothing but a backpack and a burning inner call, he set off across the world, not to escape — but to seek.

In Spain, he found sound — not just music, but vibration as medicine. Through overtone singing and ancient mantras, he dissolved into harmonics that carried him beyond thought.

 

In Ikaria, he breathed until he disappeared — breathwork journeys that left his body vibrating like a tuning fork.

In Thailand, he learned the sacred art of massage, the language of touch as a vessel for healing.

In India he found structure and depth. Hatha Yoga became his foundation. Daily asana to open the body, pranayama to cleanse the mind, mantra to purify the subtle fields. Slowly, through discipline and devotion, his being transformed.

 

But this path was not romantic. It demanded everything. Abstinence. Celibacy. Clean food. Clean thoughts and lots of journaling. Environments that mirrored the sacred geometry of his essence — rivers, forests, mountains, silence. The world became his temple. Nature his teacher.

 

In one breathwork session, he felt himself explode into infinite light. In overtone singing circles, he merged with sound until there was no Joshua — only the echo of something ancient and boundless. Orgasms trickling down from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes upon returning into his body. The veil grew thin. Boundaries dissolved. Reality, once solid, began to shimmer. Like he was on Psychedelics seeing reality in its rawest form, creative potential and possibilities in projections through his minds eye. But he was not on Psychedelics.

 

After several months of deep yogic discipline, Joshua entered a Panchakarma cleanse in a quiet village in the Rishikesh Mountains. His days were filled with oil, massages, herbs, and meditation. During this time, he began to read the Bhagavad Gita — not as philosophy, but as a mirror. Each verse felt like a personal revelation.

 

One night, seated cross-legged in his bed, he began to read the Gita aloud. He didn’t know why. It was as if something moved through him, speaking through his voice rather than with it. That night, everything changed.

 

The dreams began. Lucid. Vivid. Entities came — not demons or angels, but luminous intelligences, some playful, some serious, some dangerous, all aware of him. Then they came in waking life. Flickers of light, faces, Sounds in the silence. Symbols forming in the periphery of his vision. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

 

Joshua realized he had crossed a threshold. And he was not ready.. Not without a Guru.

So he searched. Across ashrams, temples, mountain paths. But no one called to him. Not yet.

 

Weary, he returned home — not as an escape, but as a sacred pause. A moment to breathe, to ground, to integrate after all he experienced.

Back in the land of schedules and small talk, something had changed. He no longer imposed his will upon the world. He listened. He felt. He moved from a deeper rhythm, a slower breath.

 

He began to plant seeds — not for reward, but because they were in alignment with his truth. He no longer sought to manipulate time, but to dance with it. He felt his desires as already fulfilled, his life as already blessed.

Gratitude filled him. Love expanded from his chest like light through a prism. And he knew: for now, society was his teacher. The mundane his monastery.

 

And in this place — amidst the chaos, the coffee shops, the bus rides and grocery lists — he remained a seeker. Patient. Soft. Strong.

 

Listening for the next call.