How to Deepen Your Practice Without Becoming a Monk
The Householder’s Path Is Not a Lesser Path
There’s a myth that lives under the surface of many sincere practitioners. It sounds something like this:
“If I were really a serious practitioner, I’d leave this all behind.”
The job. The partner. The mortgage. The chaos. It's the myth that going deep means being somewhere you're not.
But the real danger isn’t your busy life. It’s believing that awakening is somewhere else.
Here's a challenge to sit with:
Your life, as it is right now, is the perfect container for awakening.
You sit. You’ve studied. You’ve been on retreat. But the truth is you feel like something is missing. Maybe your practice feels dry. Or scattered. Maybe it doesn’t reach into your relationships, your work, your choices.
This isn’t a failure. It’s an inflection point in your practice.
You’ve outgrown beginner frameworks. You've done all the guided meditations, all the courses. You don’t need another app. You need a path, but no one told you what’s next.
Monasticism is a path that everyone knows, but it's not the only one. We revere the monks, the yogis in caves, the nuns on snowy peaks. Rightly so. But their path isn’t superior. It’s just different.
Tantra wasn’t designed for monasteries. It was born in charnel grounds. It was made for people like you and me: householder yogis, living the paradox of being in the world but not consumed by it.
Going deeper into your practice doesn’t come from escape. It comes from integration, living the Dharma at the heart of your life, not at the edges.
It’s not a longer meditation timer. It’s whether you keep your commitments when no one’s watching. Whether you recognize the view in the face of difficult situations. Whether you return to practice when it would be easier to numb out.
The depth of your practice isn’t measured in hours. It’s measured in honesty.
And no, you don’t have to be perfect. You're not going to be perfect. You're going to practice.
The result you're looking for is a life dedicated to practice.
