Most people think spiritual unfoldment is marked by big breakthroughs. A sudden shift. A mystical experience. A moment of awakening. Sometimes it is. But more often than not, transformation happens slowly—quietly.
As a plant lover, I love this quote by Richard Powers—and it’s so relevant here: “Trees fall with spectacular crashes. But planting is silent and growth is invisible.”
So many are looking for the spectacular. For them, this is the sign of progress. And they’re willing to do whatever it takes to experience it—be it a plant ceremony in a tropical jungle led by an overnight shaman, a “tantric” workshop promising divine union, or an extreme meditation retreat that pushes an untrained and unprepared body well beyond its limits under the guidance of a self-proclaimed master. The list is endless, and I’m constantly baffled by what I hear is being offered.
Traditional schools of spiritual training—like the cloistered Hindu monastery I was trained in—always take the opposite approach. More of the “planting is silent and growth is invisible” path.
In my gardens, the Brazilian fern trees I’ve planted grow rapidly—up to 10–20 feet (3–6 meters) a year. But they’re weak. Their branches break often. In contrast, the Guaiacum sanctum tree grows just about an inch a year. But it’s one of the world’s densest and most durable hardwoods. It lives well over 100 years—many for several centuries. One graces the footpath to my house—a reminder of how to proceed on the path.
This contrast is a perfect metaphor for spiritual life. Rapid growth may look impressive—but it’s rarely sustainable. True transformation takes time. It’s the slow, steady, deliberate effort that builds strength, resilience, and longevity on the path. You can’t force the mango flower to become a fully ripened fruit overnight…though there have been many nights I’ve stayed up wondering if such a miracle might take place.
Spiritual unfoldment—the journey inward—is more like placing grains of sand on a scale. Each time you redirect awareness, choose restraint, uphold a practice, or use your willpower to align with your principles—you’re adding another grain.
And for a long time, it may feel like nothing is changing—because the scale hasn’t tipped yet. This is where most people give up. They assume no shift is happening because nothing dramatic has occurred. But transformation is cumulative, not binary. Each grain carries weight. Over time, it builds pressure on the scale—until one day, it tips. And when it does—you cross a threshold. You have a realization.
For example, you see your mind differently—as something separate from awareness. You realize you can direct awareness with intention. You feel a conviction that cannot be unraveled.
Realizing something causes a complete shift in perspective that then results in a permanent change in behavior—the way we act and react to life’s experiences. And as my guru once told me: “Once you realize something, you can’t unrealize it.”
Realization happens not through one single event, but through the repeated act of showing up. This is what I call the Scale Effect.
Over the decades, I’ve seen many come on the path with great enthusiasm. And many leave just as quickly. But here’s what I’ve also seen: they return. Why? Because each grain remains. The scale may not have tipped the first time—but the weight was there. And eventually, it becomes enough.
Here’s what I would like you to know: Keep adding grains. Day after day. Moment by moment. Redirecting awareness. Choosing wisely. Master your practices instead of adding more or constantly changing them. Because the tipping point is not one act—it’s the result of many. You don’t need perfection—you need consistency.
If you stay the course, it will come. Be patient. Be focused. Extreme focus is when you can come back in your next life and consciously continue where you left off in this one.
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