Life’s funny, isn’t it? One minute you’re on top of the world, making meditations, creating calming content, and feeling pretty good about yourself… and then, BAM! It all comes crashing down around you. That’s kind of what happened to me. But let me back up and give you the full story because, as usual, it’s a bit complicated (and a bit longer than it probably should be).
Why I Walked Away from Creating Meditations
I didn’t just walk away—I pretty much crawled away. Creating meditations took me weeks to make. On average 3 to 4. I’m not exaggerating here. From coming up with the initial ideas to structuring scripts, expanding those to full scripts, checking and checking again to make sure the language was positive and effective. I recognise what a huge responsibility it is for people to entrust their unconscious mind to me, and I find it incredibly important to make sure every word is written and spoken in a manner that won’t accidentally embed anything unwanted.
Recording was another ordeal. I lived in a noisy neighbourhood, and the only quiet time was at 4 a.m. I’d sit in my lounge with my ZOOM recorder, speaking into the mic, hoping a dog wouldn’t bark or a car wouldn’t backfire… They always did! and if you heard the outtakes, you’d think I have no right teaching meditation… Then came editing, creating videos, writing SEO-optimised descriptions, making sure everything was tailored for different platforms—it was all-consuming. I had to be a writer, narrator, sound engineer, video producer, and marketer—all at once. And I was doing it all alone. It was exhausting.
Then, life got… intense.
A Perfect Storm of Burnout
COVID hit, and suddenly the internet went from a relatively friendly place to a cesspool of negativity and arguments. Every time I logged on, it felt like I was stepping into a bar brawl. Not exactly a great environment to create meditations for relaxation and peace, right?
Then there was my best friend, Saffy. My dog. My lifesaver in so many ways. She grew older and needed me more than ever. She lost her sight, her hearing, and mobility—essentially, she became my full-time focus. My whole world shrank down to her. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t mind one bit. I would’ve done anything for her, and I did, right up until that heartbreaking day in November when I finally had to say goodbye. She saved my life once when I was in the darkest place imaginable, and I owed her everything. I wasn’t going to leave her side and I held onto her paw, long after she’d left.
With Saffy gone, and no energy left in the tank, creating meditations just wasn’t happening. I’d burnt out. Hard. Physically, mentally, emotionally—I was empty. Even the thought of sitting down to create anything felt insurmountable. The joy had been sucked out of it.
Why I Hid Behind a Meditation Persona
Another thing? I felt trapped. Trapped in this role I’d carved out for myself—James Cole, The Meditation Guy™. A positive, calming, almost saintly persona I created because… well, it’s what was expected, wasn’t it? But in reality? I’m just a human like everyone else. Or maybe an alien… But the point is I still have bad days just like everyone else.
There are still things that upset me, things that get me furious and things I have no comprehension of how they work or how other people don’t see them. I do not trust the government by any stretch of the imagination (I’ve worked for them and had a hand in their manipulation and lies and know first-hand how it all works), I have complete disdain for any human who thinks they have power over another, I will not tolerate mistreatment of animals or children, or really anyone, I’ll get upset if a tree gets cut down and I’ll spend an hour clearing the driveway of snails (carefully picking each one up and placing on the garden) before driving the car out. Yet I eat a mostly carnivore diet, I swear possibly more than a sailor, I have the darkest sense of humour, and do all these other things a “Spiritual Meditation Guy” should not be doing. I don’t even meditate every day…
But I kept all this hidden because I felt it was important to uphold this image, that the good work I was doing wouldn’t be accepted if I didn’t. It got to the point where it felt like I was only allowed to be this one-dimensional “meditation guru,” and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t hide parts of myself to fit into a mould I’d accidentally created. The more I forced it, the more I felt like I was suffocating. And then… burnout.
The Unexpected Turning Point
Then, amidst this turmoil, something unexpected happened—I got diagnosed with autism. Turns out, I’d been running on a different operating system my entire life and didn’t even know it. I’d always known I was different. Weird, even. Suddenly, a lot of things clicked into place. I realised why my senses are turned up to 11 (seriously, perfume shops, loud noises and the Sun are my kryptonite) and why I struggled with things others took for granted. Learning this about myself was a massive relief, but it was also a lot to process.
I remember the turning point clearly: a conversation with a friend about her autistic son. Everything she described felt like a mirror, reflecting my own experiences back at me. I took tests, I researched, and eventually, a counsellor suggested the same thing: “Have you ever considered that you may be autistic?” The diagnosis was both a revelation and a validation. Suddenly, I understood why things had always felt different for me. Why I seemed to have “super-powers” in some areas—like hyper-focus and absorbing new information at lightning speed—yet struggled with basic things that others found simple. Why I could smell a gas leak that even a professional detector missed, yet couldn’t handle the overwhelming chaos of a busy café. And why I have always struggled with anything social.
Yet, it brought clarity. I learned how to adjust my life, how to take breaks before I hit sensory overload, and how to work with my brain, not against it. But I still wasn’t creating meditations. I missed them, but the process was still exhausting. I needed something to change.
Breaking Through My Fear
One of the unexpected yet transformative parts of my journey was learning to sing. In 2022, I decided to take singing lessons on a whim. I thought it would help train my voice so that if I ever wanted to go back to creating meditations, I would sound way better. Not only that, singing was something I’d wanted to do for a long time, but I’d always been terrified.
I went to my first lesson and had a great chat with the teacher learning about each other and what I wanted out of the lessons. And then he asked me to sing… Up until this point it had never once crossed my mind that I’d have to sing in front of someone. Not once! Terror struck me to the core. My first attempt was… let’s just say, less than impressive. But I knew I had to push through.
The next week, I made a promise to myself: I was going to sing my heart out, regardless of how terrified I was. I told my teacher to just sit there and listen. And I did it. I laid it all out there, completely vulnerable. And in that moment, something broke inside me—the fear. It was like unlocking a part of myself that I’d kept hidden away for most of my life.
I realised that my fear stemmed from something that happened when I was a teenager. A “friend” had told me to shut up when I was singing. He said no one wanted to hear my voice. It was said with so much venom that it stayed with me, and from that point on, I hid my voice. Singing lessons became a way of reclaiming that part of myself. And it turned out, I could actually sing. Week by week, my confidence grew, and so did my ability.
This experience taught me something profound: that the things we’re most afraid of are often the things we need to do the most. And it rekindled a love of music that I’d nearly forgotten about. I even set up a home studio and began working on my first album, a project called Seven Shades of Nothing. It’s something entirely different from my meditation work—it explores the darker, more emotional sides of my personality. But it’s creative, it’s raw, and it’s me. Most importantly, it provides a balance to my creative life.
The Comeback: Enter AI
(AKA My New Best Employee)
Fast forward to now. The tech world decided to throw me a lifeline in the form of AI. And no, it’s not the evil overlord kind. When I first heard about Chat GPT, I got that familiar spark of curiosity. Could this be the tool to help me get back to creating without burning out again? I dove in headfirst, training it, shaping it, and figuring out how it could do the tedious parts I hate—titles, SEO, keywords, different versions of the same text… All of the boring stuff that ate up so much of my time. Suddenly, I wasn’t spending weeks on a meditation. It was taking days. I had time and energy left over for things I love—crafting the meditations, creating soundscapes, and getting lost in the creative flow. Being creative is my happy place.
AI was like bringing in the ultimate assistant. I could offload 90% of the tasks that drained me, leaving me with what truly mattered: creating. It was freeing. It was like stepping back into that serene forest I often guide others to in my meditations. And just like that, the joy started coming back.
Rediscovering Myself Through Creativity
You see, being creative is my happy place. It’s where I get to experience flow states the strongest. It’s my meditation. I can shut the world out, enter a creative state, and be transported to a realm where time melts away. When I’m creating, I’m not just making meditations; I’m connecting with something bigger. The world fades out of existence, and I’m just there. Only when I come out of that state do I notice, “OMG, I’m hungry!” or “Holy crap, I need the bathroom!” and “why are my toes blue? Oh yeah, it’s freezing…” or most commonly, all of these at once. Being creative connects me with the universe on a deeper level than anything else. It’s where I feel most alive, and it serves to keep my mental health in check. Less anxiety, more calm. Creating isn’t just something I do; it’s something I need, as much as the air I breathe.
I’d forgotten how much I needed that. And with AI taking the grunt work, I’m back to doing what I love. The magic’s back.
Coming Full Circle: Why I’m Here Again
So here I am. Back, refreshed, and ready to create again. River of Flow will be my first meditation since 2022, and it’s a test run for this new workflow. I’m excited because it’s different—it’s me coming back to this world on my terms. Using technology to embrace change, I’m making meditations again because I want to, not because I have to. I’m doing it because I love it, and because it’s part of me.
River of Flow uses metaphors of a magical forest and a flowing river to help release what no longer serves you, to embrace change, and to flow through life rather than fight against it. It’s my way of showing that change—be it technology, life’s circumstances, or our own mindset—doesn’t have to be feared. It can be embraced. And who knows? Maybe it’ll lead you back to something you love, too.
Lessons from the Journey
The Nature of Change
Change is something we all face, yet so often we resist it. Resistance can create suffering, and I learned this the hard way during my burnout. Embracing change, whether it’s a shift in how we live our lives, changes brought by technology, or internal shifts in our mindset, can be liberating. Learning to lean into the current instead of fighting against it has been a recurring theme in my life. This is why metaphors of flowing rivers and forests speak to me—they remind me that the most natural way to live is to be in harmony with change, not fear it. Resistance keeps us stuck, but embracing change can lead to the unexpected—a new opportunity, a new way of being, or rediscovering a passion long forgotten.
Letting Go of the Persona
Creating a public persona can be like building a cage. I felt the pressure to maintain the image of “The Meditation Guy,” a calming, wise figure who never faltered. But the truth is, none of us are one-dimensional. We have different layers, different parts of ourselves that deserve to be seen. Letting go of that persona allowed me to truly breathe again. I started sharing more of myself—the parts that didn’t fit the mold of what people expected. Vulnerability is a form of freedom, and by letting go of what others thought I should be, I found true peace. I hope this speaks to the idea that you don’t have to fit into any box or label society has given you. It’s okay to let yourself be seen for all that you are—messy, imperfect, and real.
Connection Through Creativity
Creativity is not just an action; it’s a state of being. When I create, I enter a flow state that is as deep as any meditation. It’s a form of communion with something greater. It’s where I feel connected to the universe, in tune with the mysteries of existence. Time loses its meaning, and I become fully immersed in the moment. This connection brings me a sense of purpose that goes beyond mere productivity. It’s a sacred experience, one that is deeply spiritual without needing labels or definitions. Creativity, for me, is the path that connects the soul to the infinite. It’s something I hope everyone can find for themselves—whether it’s through art, music, writing, or anything that makes them feel truly alive.
Fear as a Catalyst
My story of learning to sing is more than just about overcoming stage fright—it’s about confronting the voices we carry with us from the past. That old “friend’s” harsh words echoed in my mind for decades, holding me back from something I loved. But fear, I’ve found, is often a signal pointing directly at what we need the most. It’s easy to avoid what scares us, but real growth happens when we face it head-on. Singing lessons taught me to step into the very thing I was avoiding. I want you to remember that the thing you fear may just be the thing that will set you free. Growth and comfort rarely coexist, and sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone is the only way to step into your power.
Balance Between Light and Dark
Creating meditations is about bringing peace and light into the world. But my music project, Seven Shades of Nothing, is about exploring the other side—the darker, more emotional aspects of myself. I realized that embracing both the light and the dark is essential for my well-being. Balance is a key aspect of existence, and we can’t always be striving for positivity and light without acknowledging the shadow. There’s beauty in the dark emotions, in the complexity of anger, sorrow, and fear. They have something to teach us, just as much as joy and peace do. It’s about understanding that embracing the full spectrum of who we are—the highs and the lows—is what leads to wholeness. It’s okay to have dark days, and it’s okay to express them. They are just as valid as the good days, and they make the light even more meaningful.
Final Thoughts
If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this, it’s that it’s okay to step back. It’s okay to stop and put your health—both mental and physical—first. It’s okay to not have it all figured out, to burn out, and to come back stronger when you’re ready. Let go of those voices telling you what you should be, and instead, just be. You’re allowed to embrace change, no matter what stage of life you’re at.
And if you’ve read this far, I want you to know that burnout happens. Sometimes, it’s life’s way of reminding us that we’re human and we need care too. It’s okay to take breaks, to reassess, and to come back when you’re ready. I hope my journey can serve as a reminder that creativity, resilience, and even embracing a bit of tech can lead you to rediscover the joy you thought you’d lost.
What about you? Have you ever needed to take a step back to care for yourself or found a way to embrace change in your own life? I’d love to hear your story in the comments below.
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