From Sufi Whispers to Zen Silence : A Journey to Oneness

I used to think the spiritual path was something you add to life. Now I see it’s what remains when life strips things back. Over the years I’ve walked with Sufism, Advaita Vedanta, and Zen, not as labels, but as lifelines. Each one taught me a different way to come home to myself.

I didn’t choose these paths to collect teachings. I chose them because they helped me when life stopped making sense.

During Covid, my business stopped. The money flow stopped. The momentum stopped. And with that pause, a lot of things fell away. Some friendships changed. The need to be seen faded. The constant pushing, proving, and performing lost its power.

What remained was uncomfortable at first. Just me, my thoughts, my ego, and a silence I couldn’t escape.

I used to spend a lot of energy trying to connect people, hold things together, and keep everything moving. Later I saw that some of that was also a way of avoiding myself. When the outer world slowed down, I couldn’t run in the same way. And that became the beginning of something real.

I didn’t find a dramatic miracle. I found a quiet sentence inside me: this is enough. I can’t live from ego and image anymore.

That was the first light.

Sufism met me through longing. On difficult days I would repeat a simple remembrance, not to feel spiritual, but to stay soft. Sometimes it felt dry. Sometimes it felt like nothing was happening. But slowly I noticed that even when life outside was uncertain, something inside could stay open.

Sufism taught me that love is not something you chase. Love is what remains when the inner barriers begin to fall.

Advaita Vedanta brought me to one question: who am I?

When I sat with it honestly, I saw how much of my identity was built from roles, success, attention, and control. When those things were shaken, the question became personal, not philosophical.

I began to notice the mind repeating “me, me, me.” My loss. My future. My image. And then, little by little, I saw that these are movements in awareness, not the truth of who I am.

That shift didn’t remove challenges, but it created space. And space is freedom.

Zen made it even simpler. Stop searching for a special experience and meet this moment.

Some days my meditation is peaceful. Most days it’s restless. Thoughts come like a crowd. Zen doesn’t ask me to fight them. It asks me to return.

Breath. Body. This step. This moment.

And the practice moved into daily life, especially through walking. I started taking one walk a day, not to think, not to plan, but to arrive. Feeling my feet on the ground. Noticing the air on my face. Listening without labeling everything. When the mind runs, I come back to the next step.

It’s a small practice, but it changes the day. It reminds me that life is already here, and I’m the one who keeps leaving it.

Sufism calls it the Beloved. Vedanta calls it the Self. Zen calls it emptiness.

Different words, same direction. The illusion of separation loosens. The need to prove relaxes. For a moment, I stop arguing with reality.

Covid took a lot from me, but it also removed distractions. It pushed me from trying to connect everyone outside to finally connecting with myself.

Simple Practices for Your Journey

If you feel drawn to this path, here are a few practices that stay simple but go deep:

• Ten minutes of silence each morning. Return to the breath.

• A short remembrance for the heart. One phrase, repeated with sincerity.

• Self-inquiry when you’re triggered. Ask “Who is feeling this?” and feel the body.

• One mindful walk each day. Just steps, breath, and presence.

• A short evening reflection. What pulled me into ego today, what brought me back, what I choose tomorrow.

The mystic path is not about becoming someone special. It is about becoming real.

Less performance. Less separation. More presence.

May this journey guide you back to your own light.

Ashraf Mystic

If you would like to connect with me, feel free to reach out through my email.