Guest article from deep-psychology.com.
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How do experienced meditators with some level of spiritual insight seem to ordinary people? Let’s discuss this fantasy-laden topic in grounded, everyday terms. Experienced meditator, author and founder of Minttu, Ross Edwards, and I have put our heads together to distill this topic to its essence.
To an average person—if they are perceptive enough to notice—mid‑to‑late stage meditators don’t look mystical, aloof, or obviously spiritual. This is a point that is often missed, and you may believe that they must look like a guru or advanced being.
However, that isn’t usually the case. They appear strangely normal, yet unmistakably different. The usual impression is something like: “They seem grounded… unusually clear… kind of unshakeable… and I can’t quite explain why.”
What people are responding to isn’t belief, identity or performance. It’s presence. And presence is quietly disruptive.
For one thing, there is a calm that feels exposing. Mid–late practitioners don’t rush, cling, or react automatically. Their nervous system remains settled even when situations are charged. To others, this can feel unsettling—not because anything is wrong, but because it highlights how internally noisy most people feel by comparison. The unspoken reaction is often: “Why am I so tense around someone who isn’t?”
On top of that, there is emotional availability without drama. These practitioners don’t avoid emotion, but they also don’t amplify it. They can stay open in the presence of discomfort without trying to fix it. Ordinary people, who often manage emotions through distraction or control, may feel subtly “seen” in a way they can’t name. This isn’t mind‑reading—it’s attunement to micro‑signals most people aren’t conscious of.
Another trait is that they listen differently. There is no waiting to speak, no performance, no strategic engagement. Attention is clean. Being genuinely listened to is rare enough that it often makes people self‑conscious. Many register it simply as: “This person is actually here. They’re really listening.”
Another noticeable trait is a refusal to engage in social games. Gossip, posturing, competitive banter, dramatization—these mechanisms that pull others into unconscious dynamics tend to fall flat with a mid-late stage meditator. The practitioner isn’t resisting; they’re just not interested. This can feel disarming or even threatening, because social hierarchies rely on participation to function.
Their humor, when it appears, is relaxed and unforced. It isn’t used to gain approval or manage insecurity. This effortless confidence is attractive, and also confusing, because it doesn’t follow the usual rules of social exchange.
Many people report that such individuals feel “older” than their age. Not chronologically, but existentially. There’s a sense of lived depth, emotional maturity, and steadiness that inspires either immediate trust or immediate intimidation. Ross has noticed both in his interactions with others.
Perhaps most striking is the absence of agenda. Most interactions are driven by subtle goals—to impress, secure validation, control outcomes, or avoid judgment. When someone has no such agenda, the interaction feels unexpectedly safe. People often relax without knowing why.
In short, mid–late stage meditators look like ordinary people who are unusually grounded, internally free, and difficult to categorize. They hide in plain sight as functional humans, while quietly unsettling and soothing those around them—simply by being fully present.