As it is a technique that penetrates to the very source of individual existence, it is not surpising that the effects of meditation on individual life are influential, wide-ranging and pervasive. As the effects of meditation build up they change the way in which life is perceived and lived. And slowly and ineffably they start to bring out and make real the spiritual truths that underwrite all belief systems.

Some years ago, quite spontaneously and without me noticing, I stopped eating meat. It was a change in diet that took place very naturally and without any effort or even thought on my part. It just kinda happened and it took me 18 months to realise it had happened. I did not stop eating fish, just meat. I took this to be my body ensuring that I got enough omega 3. I felt that stopping eating meat was a genuine reflection of evolution in progress. I found it interesting and impressive. As a hedonist I was never going to stop eating meat as a discipline, so it happening naturally suited me fine.

In meditation when you reach the state of transcendental consciousness you are at the place where you start as an individual. It is the place where you as a person, both mind and body, starts. As one becomes familiar with this state increasingly one becomes more familiar with the deeper levels of the physiology. Although it seems a fantastic and impossible notion but I have actually ‘swum’ with my DNA. But this is probably more a matter of self-delusion than actuality. Over the years one develops an aptitude for manipulating the physical system at this deep level. Like everyone I have minor ailments that crop up occasionally. I cure these mainly through positive visualisations while at deep levels of meditation.

I am very dynamic in day-to-day activity and run my life like a time and motion study. I like to see it as being organised while others might see it as extremely anal. But there ya go. It works for me. My mind is extremely energetic, dynamic, vibrant and acquisitive.

As a personality I am very laidback, relaxed and calm. I do not get angry or raise my voice. I am easy to get on with and non-argumentative. I take people as they come and understand if they have qualities that I find unattractive. I am, however, very careful about who I let into my life. Although I used to be very poor at reading people, I find that now I can read them instantly. It is, of course, just a matter of intuition and experience. Except that sometimes I see auras and I can tell from the colours what a person is like. I am not sure if this ability is real or not but it certainly seems real to me.

I have an incredibly positive, enthusiastic, even passionate, approach to life and suffer from what I always describe as ‘pathetic optimism.’

I have an almost embarrassingly good self-image and not much of an ego. Though that depends on how one defines ‘ego.’ And therein lies the rub. For ego has a very precise definition according to Freud but a very imprecise and ill-defined one in the mind of the general public. On the street, ego is associated with vanity, narcissism, self-admiration, self-absorption, pride, arrogance and boastfulness. Although self-admiration must be a part of my excellent self-image, I do not suffer from any of the other qualities generally associated with ego. I am fairly modest about what I am, what I know, what I can do and what I have done. (Though, at the moment you might have some difficulty believing that statement.)

Personally I define ‘ego’ as that part of the self that seeks to protect, nurture and feed the self-image. In that role the ego constantly seeks to reinforce and develop the self-image by scoring points off other people. I honestly have no need to do that.

Although I do not feel I am without faults as a person, I am happy with what I am and enjoy being who I am.

Although I am very compassionate, I do not give often to charities and never give to beggars. I understand the nature and cause of misfortune and know that nothing I can do is going to change it. Rather self-servingly I see this as an expression of what the Buddha described as ‘the thinking heart.’ The thinking heart has compassion but exercises that compassion in trying to change the cause of suffering, not its nature. I do give to a couple of charities -- notably Comic Relief and Save the Children -- but they are ones where I feel people are putting themselves out to raise money. Whilst I have the greatest sympathy and compassion for the disabled and the disadvantaged, I know that it is dharma that plays the tune and karma that dances to it.

I am very loyal and honourable, and I believe in doing the right thing. I do not strive to be a good person nor think about being virtuous in any way, I just do it. Although I never suffered from particular dishonesty or a lack of ethics, I have seen my behaviour become more refined, ethical and honest over the years. I have taken this as my actions becoming more in line with Cosmic Law.

As this appendix is unremittingly self-orientated I should mention that I have a very clear understanding of who I am. And what I am. I happen to believe that we are given only one responsibility in life and that is responsibility for oneself and one’s own evolution. Although it might be an illusion I feel that I am very much in control of my life and where it goes. I maintain that if my hands aren’t on the steering wheel of my life, who the hell’s hands are? We are, each of us, the sun at the centre of our own individual galaxies.

I believe that I am in total control of my life because I actually do seem to make my own reality. I do not know how I acquired this ability. I do believe that I first read about how to shape your own reality in one of Deepak Chopra’s books. (I believe it was Unconditional Life, but I cannot be sure.) Although he now teaches his own form of meditation, Chopra was initiated into TM and he, therefore, speaks the same language as I do. I had been thinking about the nature and source of material reality for some years (yes, I really do think about boring stuff like this) and had decided that it must be an extension of consciousness. This was confirmed to me, again by Chopra, in his first bestseller, Quantum Healing, when he discussed the early particle accelerator research projects. I am not sure whether I got it from Chopra or not, but I realised that reality must be based on dreams. Was it not those arbiters of 20th century philosophy, Rogers and Hammerstein, who said: ‘You’ve got to have a dream, if you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true’?

In fact as I write about this I do believe I got the whole thing from Chopra. I believe he described a technique for making dreams become reality. This involved expressing a desire at a deep state of consciousness and then detaching oneself from the achievement of that desire. As complete and utter detachment is required, it is not an easy technique. But there are ways.

Somehow or other over the years I managed to create the perfect reality for myself. I do not have a job. I have no money worries. I live somewhere beautiful. I have a really great life. I am a writer and an artist and I frequently say that my greatest work of art is my life itself.

I have always regarded myself as extremely decadent, hedonistic and self-indulgent. Whilst I have always had some difficulty justifying this to myself I was having too much fun for it to bother me much. I did, however, ponder the subject on and off for many years. Eventually and, it seems, quite spontaneously I came up with the rationalisation to justify this that was so self-serving it left even me open-mouthed. What I decided was that one cannot give with an open heart unless one’s own basket is full. Sounds bloody logical to me. It was some years later that I discovered that far from being an original philosophy this concept was one that went back to ancient Greece. Although Epicurius is best remembered for giving us a word associated with fine dining, the philosophical school he founded was based on exactly the principle I had come up with (mainly for my own benefit) many years before.

Within all the texts that talk about states of consciousness one word and concept occurs extremely frequently. It is ‘detachment.’ It is said that desire is the cause of all suffering in the world. It is desire that ties us to the material world and keeps us away from and unaware of the Truth. Detachment is a state in which a person overcomes his or her attachment to things, people and concepts within the world and thus gains heightened perception or inner vision. The concept of detachment is crucial to both Buddhism and Hinduism but it occurs in just about every religion.

One of the things I like best about meditation is that it is not a discipline. There are few rules and no regulations or requirements to adopt a particular lifestyle. The only requirement is that one sits down for 20 minutes twice a day and does the technique. Although I have always maintained that that is the hardest part of meditating, it is not much of a discipline as meditating is such a very pleasant experience. When I learned to meditate I was told that one should not try to be anything or do anything different; meditation, I was told, was a natural and organic process that had natural and organic effects. I did not, therefore, ever bother about detachment. As a committed hedonist concepts such as disciplined abstinence were totally alien to me and my lifestyle anyway

While I have not looked for detachment, detachment seems to have found me. But in a somewhat surprising way. I find I am extremely detached from events in my life. That does not mean that I am not totally involved in them. It means that they do not mark my life as they once did. It is not easy to explain this in a way that makes it understandable as something extremely desirable rather than something that sounds like urban alienation or some kind of small psychosis. The best way I can explain it is with a story. Sorry about that.

For many years I lived in Amsterdam and like most Amsterdammers I rode a bike. One day I was riding my bike through Dam Square and a drunk lurched out in front of me. I slammed on my brakes but still hit his leg. Not hard but obviously hard enough because he punched me, rather feebly, on the cheekbone. Amazingly as this happened everything went into slow motion and I somehow removed my spectacles before the blow landed. The blow did not hurt and did not knock me off me feet. I then got on my bike and rode away. A little way up the road I stopped and pulled onto the pavement. ‘Jeez,’ I thought, ‘that guy hit me!’ And the thing was that I was totally detached from the event. It did not have any impact on my nervous system whatsoever. Nor, apart from a little redness, did it have much effect upon my body. I knew I had been there and I knew it had happened to me but it seemed to have happened to a different me to the one that was active. If you know what I mean.

That was the first occasion on which I experienced such detachment but there have been a number of others. I know it is not detachment as described in the holy books but it is detachment nonetheless. And it works for me. I find, with some surprise, that I live my life without expectations, hopes, wishes or many desires. Living it in this way makes for nothing but surprises, most of which are nice.

I describe myself as always having been very lucky. And I have been. But I know that it is not luck. Luck is just a word we use to explain away the ineffable random force in our lives that I know to be karma. I do, however, feel I have been blessed in some way with a technique that transforms life from a mundane experience into one that is fulfilling, worthwhile and meaningful. And I express my gratitude for that blessing frequently.

I am still a hedonist, though my sources of pleasure may have changed somewhat over the years. And I am still living in the material world. I have nothing against materialism. In fact I love it. But I also understand its nature.