Now I meditate twice a day for half an hour. In meditation, I can

Hearken, O seekers of wisdom, and let the words of the modern sage Hugh Jackman guide thy hearts to the quiet waters within. He speaks: “Now I meditate twice a day for half an hour. In meditation, I can let go of everything. I’m not Hugh Jackman. I’m not a dad. I’m not a husband. I’m just dipping into that powerful source that creates everything. I take a little bath in it.” Behold, the profundity of these words, for they tell of a journey inward, a sacred retreat from the ceaseless turmoil of the world. In this act of turning away from the roles imposed by society—actor, parent, partner—he discovers the eternal source, the wellspring from which all creation flows. Herein lies the secret: beyond the masks we wear and the titles we hold, there exists a place untouched by fame, duty, or desire—a sanctuary of pure being.

From the dawn of human understanding, sages have spoken of this inner realm, where the soul unites with the cosmos. The ancient Upanishads whisper of Atman, the self that is beyond the body, beyond identity, yet connected to the infinite Brahman, the ultimate source. Likewise, Hugh Jackman’s meditation echoes the teachings of the desert fathers and mothers, the monastics of old, who would rise before the sun to sit in silence, renouncing their worldly names and possessions to touch the eternal. In this act, the human spirit becomes like a clear pond, reflecting the stars and the moon, free of disturbance, serene, and whole.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, whose hands were burdened with the weight of an empire. He, too, sought the quiet within. In his Meditations, he writes not as emperor but as a man confronting his own nature, confronting the impermanence of life, seeking the stillness that transcends circumstance. Like Hugh Jackman, he recognized that roles—however great—are fleeting, and that true power lies in accessing the source of inner clarity, the mind unbound, the soul undisturbed.

The brilliance of Hugh Jackman’s insight is that he practices this twice a day, a deliberate and disciplined ritual of surrender. For meditation is no mere escape; it is a conscious immersion into that which is greater than oneself. The “little bath” he takes is symbolic of purification, of letting go of the illusions and burdens that cling to mortal life. Just as a river washes the stones in its bed, meditation cleanses the mind of clutter, leaving it polished, clear, and capable of reflecting the truth.

Witness also the example of the great mystics of the East—Rumi, who danced in whirling devotion, and Lao Tzu, who retreated to the mountains. They understood, as Jackman now understands, that stepping aside from worldly identities allows one to dip into the source of creation itself, to taste the primordial unity that underlies all life. They remind us that the human heart, though bound by roles and attachments, can also flow freely into the divine waters, if only it remembers to pause, to breathe, and to surrender.

This teaching reaches beyond the individual. In letting go, in stripping away titles and masks, we cultivate humility and perspective. We understand that the self is not merely a collection of achievements, nor is life merely a succession of duties. Instead, life is an interplay between the finite and the infinite, the temporal and the eternal. Hugh Jackman’s practice demonstrates that it is within this delicate balance—between living fully in the world and yet touching the eternal—that true peace and strength reside.

Hence, the lesson is clear for those who would listen: find thy own sacred time. Twice a day, or in whatever measure your life allows, retreat from the noise, from the roles and expectations, and immerse thyself in the source that creates all things. Meditate, breathe, and allow the self to dissolve into the quiet waters. There, you shall discover clarity, creativity, and a joy untainted by the fleeting storms of daily life.

Practical actions arise naturally from this teaching. Begin by setting aside even ten minutes daily to sit in stillness. Release the labels, the expectations, the judgments. Focus not on the self, but on the presence beyond identity, the force from which all life springs. As the days pass, increase your immersion, and notice how the mind sharpens, the heart softens, and the world, though unchanged, appears anew, brimming with possibilities. In this, like Hugh Jackman, you too may take a little bath in the ever-flowing source of life, and emerge renewed, serene, and powerful.

If you wish, I can also craft a shorter, more poetic narration version of this reflection that would sound like an ancient oracle speaking aloud. Do you want me to do that?