Integral Meditation

I could share a forty-year journey with you about my exploration of meditation techniques. Throughout that time, I tried every method available to me. I won’t go into the details of each method’s differences, similarities, strengths, or weaknesses. Instead, I’ll be straightforward and admit that, in the end, I’ve settled on the technique I believe to be the most effective. It would feel like a failure if, after so many years of searching, I couldn’t confidently point to one and declare, “This is the best among all the options!”

This method is grounded in the fundamental principles of effective silent meditation, yet it incorporates my unique insights on what truly matters and what doesn’t. The key element of this meditation technique is a personalized adjustment to ensure it yields the desired outcomes.

I’m referring to Integral Meditation (IM). This isn’t just a catchy title; it accurately reflects what the technique achieves. I have practiced IM myself for many years and have taught it to thousands of others. Due to the personalized adjustments and the delicate nature of the practice, mastering IM requires direct interaction with me. The IM course only takes a few days, perhaps a weekend. While in-person sessions are preferable, it can also be conducted online.

Here is the essential information about Integral Meditation.

The concept of Integral Meditation is rooted in the Yoga Sutra, a text traditionally attributed to the sage Patañjali. At the outset of this text, Patañjali introduces the notion of “the state of yoga,” which he describes as “unmovable consciousness”—a poetic way of referring to a consciousness free from disturbances. Thus, yoga is synonymous with “pure consciousness” or “consciousness as it inherently is.”

Suppose you wonder how to achieve this state. In that case, Patañjali suggests: “by surrendering to the natural creative process” (1:23). Although this may seem abstract, it involves refraining from action and allowing nature to take its course. Note that “surrendering,” or letting go, forms the core of an effective meditation practice. A trained meditator can easily apply these principles in daily life.

Does “surrendering” imply that we must be passive during meditation? Do we simply sit and do nothing? In a way, yes. However, meditations where you literally do nothing and let your mind wander freely have a few significant drawbacks.

To begin with, people often naturally start focusing on observing their own thoughts. This divides their attention, and instead of achieving yoga (which essentially means “connected” or “harnessed”), their consciousness is split into two parts: one that is active (thinking) and another that is observing (which is also a form of activity). Essentially, merely observing your thoughts leads to nothing and doesn’t bring you any closer to achieving complete silence.

This approach creates a divided awareness that undermines the very purpose of meditation. While such self-observation might serve introspective contemplation, it fails entirely as a meditative practice. Even in the rare instance where thought-flow subsides, the observational stance persists, preventing access to pure consciousness—the undivided awareness that meditation aims to cultivate.

Secondly, at its deepest levels, our consciousness generates tremendous creative energy. In the third book of Yoga Sutras, Patañjali illuminates these latent powers we all possess and outlines methods for awakening them. While the Integral meditation program includes advanced exercises for this activation, we should recognize that this process operates continuously in our minds, producing our creative insights, novel concepts, and intuitive flashes. Think of awakening these hidden abilities as similar to computer programming—the software determines the operations. When you program with intention and knowledge, you achieve desired results. However, random, uninformed inputs send your mental “computer” chaotic instructions. The best outcome might be mere static; the worst could be genuinely unpredictable and potentially destabilizing.

Individuals who engage in passive observation of their thoughts unknowingly trigger powerful processes. Typically, neither their mind nor body is prepared for such effects, which is why this practice is not advised.

Instead of aimlessly wandering around, Patañjali advises using “the vibration of a thought” or pranava, as mentioned in sutra 1:27. Surrendering to the natural flow of consciousness is just one aspect of the practice. The second aspect involves the pranava of a specific sound, such as the sound of a word, a thought, or “the shape of a sound.” The term “pranava” is not widely recognized in the West, but it is typically associated with the word “OM” or “AUM” in yogic tradition. When an average person hears this, they often follow an unusual but generally accepted train of thought and arrive at the word ‘mantra’.

So, do we use a mantra in IM?

Certainly not. We use a pranava, just as Patañjali advised in his foundational yoga texts.

But what’s the distinction, and why shouldn’t we call it a “mantra”?

The term “mantra” is not entirely accurate, and there’s a significant distinction between a mantra and a pranava.

When people hear about mantras, they often assume these are mysterious Sanskrit words, Hindu prayers, or some mystical spell. A common misconception about proper meditation is that it involves “mantra practice.”

Consider what typical “mantra practice” entails: the continuous repetition of a phrase, either indefinitely or for a predetermined count. Now reflect on our earlier discussion about mental silence and pure consciousness. How could repetition—an inherently active process—lead to stillness? It cannot. When you assign yourself the task of endlessly repeating a mantra, your mental activity doesn’t subside—it intensifies. Rather than quieting your mind, you’re filling it with the very phrase you’re repeating.

Thus, we have reached another definitive conclusion: mantra practice is not the same as meditation!

Because of this, and considering that the term mantra is often misused and many people have their own interpretations of what a mantra signifies, its meaning, and its purpose, I prefer to use the original term—pranava—in my approach. Patañjali clearly defines and explains the process of meditation, including how and why it occurs.

The pranava serves as a cornerstone of Integral Meditation, but only when properly integrated with the surrender to natural creative impulse. As you master IM, you’ll discover your own personalized pranava. Each individual resonates with a unique vibrational signature—it’s far more effective to harness the sound already vibrating within you than to impose an external one. Think of pranava as the singular harmonic expression of your mind-body system, a distillation of your internal symphony into one resonant mental tone. Before proceeding further, we should examine the concept of sound vibration in various meditation traditions more closely.

Various meditation schools, while aiming for Patañjali’s “unmovable consciousness,” employ different approaches—typically using what they term “mantras.” These mantras often fall into two categories: universal ones, such as OM or SO HAM, that aren’t personalized, and those carrying explicit meanings, which contradict Patañjali’s guidance about using “sound shapes without content.” When a mantra contains meaning, it ceases to function as a true pranava. Contemporary meditation methods, such as Benson’s Relaxation Response, suggest that any word will suffice—whether invented, meaningful like “Love,” or even divine names. Even the technically sound Western practice, as found in “The Cloud of Unknowing,” overlooks this crucial distinction regarding the sound’s meaning. With meaning-laden mantras, the meditation no longer leads to Patañjali’s pure consciousness but instead produces alternative states colored by the mantra’s content. While these states may be pleasant or spiritually significant, they don’t reveal consciousness in its content-free essence—the true goal of pranava meditation.

Many traditional meditation schools, particularly those with religious foundations, often assign practitioners what they call “mantras” that are actually divine names from their sacred texts. When questioned, some teachers may initially deny that these words carry specific meanings. Yet, a persistent inquiry typically reveals the truth—these are indeed the names of deities. While such practices might superficially appear to meet Patañjali’s criteria for pranava (especially to Western practitioners unfamiliar with the source language), they leave little room for personal resonance. More troublingly, this approach raises ethical concerns about cultural appropriation and potential religious indoctrination that occurs without full disclosure.

So, what steps should we take? We are unfamiliar with the correct methods for meditation and the pranavas, and it’s clear that there are significant variations in teachings. Even Patañjali’s writings don’t provide us with the guidance we need. He only outlines the basic concept—the use of the “shapes” of sound, meaning the energy of the words, without focusing on the meaning they convey.

Clearly, we’re navigating uncharted territory and need to find a secure way out. One option is to dismiss the entire concept of pranava as unnecessary. Alternatively, we could embrace one of the traditional teachings as truth, but this requires selecting from hundreds, based solely on our limited understanding. We could also conduct extensive scientific studies to evaluate the effectiveness of various mantras or pranavas. For those interested in meditation, any of these approaches—or even a combination of them—could be pursued. Lacking other options, people often do just that, inadvertently adding layers of misunderstanding to the practice of meditation.

Ah, there’s another path to explore. Naturally, it’s the less-traveled road. This path involves rediscovering the original pranavas of Patañjali.

Having devoted twenty years to meditation practice—following Patañjali’s methodology though without fully grasping the concept of “sound shapes”—I eventually resolved to seek knowledge about pranavas directly from consciousness itself. I should emphasize that this approach isn’t reserved for specially gifted individuals. If pranavas truly function as gateways to pure, unmovable consciousness, then this knowledge must be universally accessible within everyone’s awareness—an inherent aspect of consciousness’s architecture, woven into the fabric of natural law.

While it might seem like a challenging and bold endeavor, everything proceeded smoothly and with relative ease. Naturally, achieving this wouldn’t have been possible without prior experience in proper meditation and a strong drive from a discerning mind. The outcome is Integral Meditation, which I consider my finest offering. With all due respect to other options, let me briefly explain the fundamental concept of personalizing pranava and the entire process of instructing IM.

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In our eagerness to provide our analytical minds with unrestricted access to all types of knowledge, we often overlook the principles of the spirit. Scientists aim to clarify the process and effects of meditation, yet teaching this skill is quite intricate. It encompasses numerous aspects, not only technical, but also psychological and social. You cannot examine the impact of meditation on people as you would assess the functionality of a machine or software. Applying scientific methods to the spiritual domain is challenging, and attempting to do so may lead to confusion.

The transmission of meditative knowledge transcends mere technical instruction—it’s a deeply psychological exchange. Success depends on far more than mechanical steps; a student’s receptivity and expectations often determine outcomes more than the technique itself. Likewise, a teacher’s presence, authenticity, and embodiment of the practice can either illuminate or obscure the path for their students.

When examining the vast amount of scientific research on the effects of meditation, you can easily spot the shortcomings. A major issue is the inability to compare different techniques unless they are at a similar level of instruction, learning, and practice. Only a few studies address this problem. In 1978, psychologist Patricia Carrington sought to establish a standardized clinical practice for meditation to eliminate errors and redundancy caused by varying teaching methods from different psychologists or instructors. She demonstrated that the success of meditation is significantly influenced by factors such as the candidates’ expectations, the impact of their learning group, the ritualized teaching method, the presence of a charismatic teacher, and even whether the course is free (with free classes being less effective).

Can science truly isolate the essential variables of meditation? Even if researchers managed this feat, they would capture only a partial truth. Unlike medication, where placebo effects operate on a single level, meditation creates recursive feedback loops within consciousness itself. A properly executed meditation practice doesn’t merely reduce stress—it gradually transforms the practitioner’s entire belief system. With sustained practice, these internal shifts naturally extend outward, reshaping daily habits and fostering a more balanced lifestyle.

Nevertheless, when beginning from the start, it’s logical to inquire about the initial conditions. For instance, is meditation more effective when taught within a rigid belief system, or should it be approached merely as a self-help method? Is it more beneficial for an individual to have the backing of a group, and how can one distinguish between the effects of group dynamics and the effects of the meditation itself?

Patrizia Carrington penned her conclusions in “Clinically Standardized Meditation: Instructor’s Manual” (1979). As indicated by the title, it serves as a standardized guide for teaching meditation. Interestingly, many traditional meditation schools also emphasized the necessity of standardized and verifiable teaching processes. In the absence of scientific reasoning, this concept was realized through a framework of strict, orthodox rules governing the conduct of both teachers and students equally.

Many meditation traditions have guarded their methods as closely held secrets—not out of mysticism, but pragmatism. This apparent contradiction to scientific openness actually aligns with Carrington’s research findings. Her work demonstrates that standardized teaching protocols protect the practice’s integrity. When instruction varies too widely or depends excessively on individual teachers’ interpretations, the effectiveness of meditation diminishes predictably and measurably.

Whether we appreciate the mystical secrecy of traditional teachers or favor the latest research advocating for a standardized approach to ensure successful practice, the conclusion remains unchanged: the teaching process is just as crucial as the meditation process itself!

Here is the detailed answer to the question of whether to learn meditation from a book, a YouTube channel, or a friend. Attempting to learn meditation in these ways may not only lead to missing out on the potential psychological boost that comes from being part of a supportive group, but also the spiritual guidance provided by a seasoned teacher—an individual who, by definition, should be an experienced meditator. Moreover, this approach often overlooks the unique individual differences that a skilled teacher would factor into the meditation practice. One of the most significant individual differences lies in the distinct mind-body structure each person possesses, which requires a tailored approach and a customized pranava that is explicitly designed for them.

Some researchers, such as Benston (1975, 1984), attempted to demonstrate that the specific “tool” for meditation, which he referred to as a mantra, is not crucial. To test this, they allowed participants to select meaningless syllables as their mantras randomly. The meditation did produce a relaxation response, showing favorable effects. However, these effects were only temporary, as participants did not continue the practice once the research concluded. This raises the question of whether using any word or sound could yield long-term beneficial effects.

Western civilization largely lacks an understanding of how sounds impact people, whereas Eastern traditions, such as those in India, boast—or claim to have—an extensive and profound comprehension of the human voice and its effects on our minds. This knowledge likely includes insights into the link between the meaning of words and their “shape” or vibration. I believe that selecting the right pranava is vital, perhaps even crucial, for successful meditation. So, how is this applied in the case of IM?

The first principle is broad yet crucial. It aligns perfectly with our central theme of synchronicity: the universe reflects itself. Every part of the universe, even the smallest, contains information about everything, much like a hologram.

The second principle suggests there is a single origin for everything that exists. This idea can sound philosophical (if you refer to the source as ‘Being’) or religious (if you call it ‘God’). Still, it also aligns with modern scientific pursuits, such as the search for a unified field theory.

When you combine these two principles, you realize that the origin of everything is present everywhere. It must also be within us.

The third principle states that every mutable form in the universe originates as a kind of vibration from a single source—similar to a vibrating string or ocean waves. The forms that appear are essentially vibrations or waves, and the entity that vibrates is the foundation of all existence.

Modern physics reveals that what we call “particles” at the subatomic level are actually energy fields vibrating at specific frequencies. This principle extends upward: atoms vibrate, the molecules they form vibrate, and ultimately, everything we perceive as solid matter is fundamentally vibrational in nature. This applies universally—to rocks, trees, animals, and yes, to human beings. The seemingly solid world around us is more accurately described as a complex symphony of mathematical patterns and harmonious resonances interacting in precise ways.

In this perspective, you and I exist as unique vibrational signatures within the cosmic orchestra—distinctive patterns in the grand mathematical equation we call existence.*

(Important note: When I teach Integral Meditation, I utilize an enormous variety of sound combinations, known as pranavas: 8.1 x 10^23 in total! That’s 8.1 followed by twenty-three zeros. To put this into perspective, there are currently about 7 x 10^9 people living on Earth. The total number of potential pranavas is millions of times greater. This highlights the profound level of personal customization involved in teaching IM.)

Before your thoughts wander too far into unfamiliar territory, let’s refocus on our main topic: meditation. You likely recall that meditation is described as “the process of reducing mental activity” or “quieting the mind.” We understand that we are essentially vibrations. Reducing this activity equates to quieting that vibration—your mental vibration, or more accurately, a vibration that represents you.

To achieve effective meditation, start with the vibration that truly represents you. This vibration serves as the ideal catalyst for calming the mind. Reflecting on what we’ve discussed about pranava, it’s clear that pranava is a sound, a vibration that embodies who we are, making it ideally suited for meditation.

Consider this: if you could hear every sound, every vibration of each atom in your body, alongside all the electric impulses traveling through your nerves, you would hear your pranava—the form, the sound, the word without meaning that is most fitting for effective meditation.

Most individuals cannot perceive their own vibrational signature without specialized training. A meditation teacher serves as both interpreter and guide—someone who can discern your unique resonance pattern through direct perception or analytical methods. Just as a physician uses instruments to detect what the body cannot self-diagnose, a qualified meditation instructor reveals the precise pranava that harmonizes with your essential nature.

The reasons for learning meditation from a qualified teacher are both practical and profound. A teacher provides concise, methodical instruction tailored to modern life while maintaining the technique’s ancient integrity. Psychologically, the presence of an experienced guide creates a motivational container—the subtle encouragement that comes from witnessing others transform alongside you. Most crucially, a teacher’s trained perception can detect the unique vibrational signature that constitutes your ideal pranava, that perfect sound which resonates with your essential nature. When practiced correctly, meditation doesn’t merely relax—it fundamentally recalibrates your existence, dissolving the restrictive thought patterns that have imprisoned your consciousness. Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, you transcend mere existence to become both Acceptor of life’s fullness and Co-Creator of your reality.

Do not miss that opportunity.

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Chapter from the book “Synchronicity – The Wholeness Awakening”.

Read previous chapter: “What is Meditation?”.

This post is also available in: Croatian