Rest

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When was the last time you really allowed yourself to do nothing? Not planning for the day ahead, not going for a walk, not even doing yoga and meditating. Really and truly nothing. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had a day where every second wasn’t accounted for with some form of activity. I used to think that as long as I wasn’t at work, I was resting. Now I realize life isn’t that simple. Even on my days off, I have a rigorous schedule to follow by the minute. I am constantly checking the clock, checking my to-do list. Sometimes my relentless repetition from day to day has the effect of turning even fun, lighthearted activities into chores. Chores I nevertheless continue to perform, forgetting that my original intention was to enjoy myself.

I heard this phenomenon referred to the other day as “internalized capitalism” and I hated it. Is this really why I feel the need to always be productive? I may not be someone who obsesses over their actual job, but I tend to turn my own personal pursuits into a job. I am my own task master. But behind my own neuroticism, is capitalism really running the show? After all, why do I feel the need to be productive all the time? I’ve always thought working only as much as I absolutely have to and saving the rest of the time for myself was a rebellion against capitalist ideals. Now I’m beginning to wonder if that very system managed to seep into my mind somehow anyway. Why am I so afraid to rest? Why does “wasting time” feel so taboo?

Part of the conversation on “internalized capitalism” was really interesting to me. The hosts of the podcast mentioned that perhaps we tie our self worth to our productivity and usefulness to others because at the end of the day, none of us really know why we’re here. I thought that was a fascinating idea. Without inherent direction or purpose, we subconsciously decide that our purpose is production and selfless service. On paper it doesn’t sound like a bad purpose. It’s quite noble to dedicate your life to serving others. The problem only appears when we decide this is the only thing that matters.

The search for meaning is a perplexing one. Why do we humans long for a reason? Do other animals question their purpose? Do plants wonder why they exist? It seems self evident that we would want to find meaning in the chaos that is existence, but what makes us so sure there is a meaning in the first place? Furthermore, why is the idea that our purpose is to simply exist so unsatisfying? What is it inside of us that makes us desire a reason for being alive? Isn’t just being alive enough? Can’t we just be grateful and enjoy it? Then again, perhaps our innate need to understand this mystery implies that there is an explanation out there somewhere. Whether or not we’re meant to find it in this life is another story.

I’ve always liked the idea that we get to choose our own purpose. The meaning of life is for us each to interpret for ourselves. However, why is it so hard to fully commit to our own interpretation? For instance, I would say the purpose I’ve assigned to my life is to love and be loved, to learn, to experience, and to enjoy. When I break down my day to day existence though, does it really reflect that purpose? Not really, but how can that be? I get to choose the purpose, and I get to choose how I live, don’t I? Our actions are so often counterintuitive to our own wishes.

Given that none of us really know why we’re here, why is it so difficult for many of us to simply rest? I think part of me is afraid that if I allow myself to rest, I’ll never find the motivation to get back up again. Objects at rest tend to stay at rest right? Humans aren’t objects though. I shouldn’t fear slowing down every now and then. Objects are moved by external forces, momentum keeps them going, and once they stop, they never know when or if they’ll be propelled into motion again. Living beings are different. My energy, my movement comes from within. It’s important to rest so that I can refill my energy stores. There is an elegant dance at play, an eternal struggle to find balance between these two states.

I want to learn to trust my body, to listen more closely when it whispers what it needs, to stop denying it’s pleas for rest. I’ve been pushing myself for so long now, it seems like my body only ever asks for rest. I’ve tricked myself into believing this is all it has or will ever ask for. That it’s my job to overcome this desire for inertia each and every day. I’ve lost faith in my own resilient spirit. I’ve forgotten that it’s a joy to move, to create, to explore. Allowing myself moments of stillness won’t leave me trapped there. I’m sure that if I were to only give myself time to rest, once I was replenished, I’d be eager to get back to “work.” Maybe intervals of rest would keep me from feeling like my life is work at all.

I may be pleasantly surprised like I was after my stint of working from home. I had thought working from home would be ideal for me. I had always wished for that or even not having to work at all. Yet, after a few months I was actually dying to go back to the office. All that time alone had the opposite effect. I wasn’t happier. I was being consumed by my own self-destructive behaviors. I had worried that it’d be a huge burden to go back eventually, but I was surprised to find myself overjoyed when my time at home finally ended.

Try to give yourself at least a few minutes of true rest today. Sit in the grass and stare at the clouds. Listen to your favorite album start to finish. Have a long bubbly bath. Take a nap without guilt. It’s been so long since I’ve incorporated rest into my life, that I’m honestly struggling to come up with examples. What do you like to do to rest? I would love to hear your ideas. Maybe you’re an introvert and rest looks like spending time alone. Or maybe you’re an extrovert and to replenish yourself you like to spend quality time with loved ones. Whatever it is, you deserve it. Give yourself the gift of rest. Use it as an experiment if you like. How might rest give you the energy you need to more fully enjoy the busy moments?

Invest in rest (and live better. Seriously.)

Exploring the Mind

Still immersed in How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan, I have been unable to prevent the psychedelic perspective from penetrating my every thought. I am desperate to find some free time in which I can start experimenting with my own spiritually centered trips. One of the things I find most interesting about psychedelics is the revelations people often experience while taking them. It’s not as if these insights are new. They are usually a reflection of things that have become platitudes: We are all one, love conquers all, we have the ability to choose our own reality, make our own happiness, etc. This is one of the reasons I find it so difficult to express the psychedelic experience to those who haven’t taken these drugs for themselves. It’s almost too hard to put into words and make sense of in my own head, let alone translate it to others. It’s similar to the way we can pass along knowledge, but not wisdom. There is something ineffable about the experience that solidifies the truth of the realizations that come with it.

Pollan’s book talks a lot about the seemingly limitless potential of these drugs to treat mental illness, comfort the dying, and even improve the quality of life for average, healthy people. What it hasn’t seemed to touch on yet though is the implications these psychedelic experiences have in regard to our minds in general. Sure we are introducing a foreign substance to our brains, but the pathways it activates are already inside of us, just waiting to be utilized. People have already found ways to access these mental pathways through breathwork alone, without the use of any substances. What does all this mean when it comes to our limited perspectives and perception of ourselves, others, and the world around us?

As a child, unburdened by biases or expectations, the world seems like quite a fantastical place. We’re present, we’re in the moment, we’re open to new experiences and ways of thinking. Understandably, that changes as we age. The more time we spend looking at the world through a certain lens, the more it begins to feel like that’s the only lens there is. We forget that we haven’t always thought or felt the way we currently do, and that others don’t think, feel, or react in the same ways that we do. Wouldn’t it be amazing to take a peak into the mind of someone else for just a few moments? Or better yet, to truly know the full capabilities of our own brains?

It’s frustrating and fascinating to realize that no one will ever truly know what it feels like to be anyone else. We take for granted that as human beings we are pretty much the same, but how alike are we really? So much of our experience of life is private and uniquely personal. The way our minds work are too complex for us to fully grasp, despite how far science has come. One of the issues psychedelic researchers have is how to quantify and categorize such personal, subjective experiences into usable data. Science has been relegated to the very limited realm of objective facts and observable behaviors/phenomenon. It seems we haven’t quite figured out a way to explore and understand subjective experiences, despite what a huge impact these things have in the world.

I suppose subjective subjects are better left to philosophers than scientists. However, one thing that is mentioned in Pollan’s book is the suggestible nature of a psychedelic experience. Whatever you are primed to experience is most likely what you will experience during your trip. Just like in a lot of other ways, in this way psychedelics seem like a hyper-intense reflection of reality in general. Our perceptions of everyday life are also highly suggestible, especially in childhood when the rigid patterns in our minds that psychedelics break down, haven’t yet been formed. If you wake up each morning and tell yourself you’re going to have a bad day full of tedious, tiresome activities, you probably will. On the other hand, if you can make yourself believe you’re going to have an amazing day filled with smiles and laughter and new adventures, you probably will! The external circumstances can be exactly the same.

It is impossible to imagine just how many different ways of thinking exist in the world. I believe we are each capable of experiencing all of these perspectives. More than any physical barrier, what holds us back most in life are our own limiting beliefs. Changing them can seem impossible at times. We don’t usually choose to believe what we believe. It’s an amalgamation of so many different factors that manifest as a belief system. Challenging those deep-seated ideas is no small task, nor is there a clear place to start. Part of the issue comes from realizing how much these beliefs limit our ability to even imagine alternative ways of thinking.

Looking at it that way really underscores the importance of finding time for focused creativity as an adult. Creativity isn’t about what you produce. It’s about expanding the limits of our own minds so that we are better able to come up with creative solutions to our problems and allow ourselves access to more options in our inner lives. Creativity is a muscle that is not exercised nearly enough. It is completely undervalued in our schools, offices, and communities. Studies have shown that adults are drastically less creative than children. Longitudinal studies that follow the same participants over decades reveal that despite being very creative at one point, they lose the vast majority of that creativity as they grow older.

If you find yourself feeling stuck, like the world has lost it’s luster, you’re not alone. The panoramic view of existence we all enjoy in childhood becomes narrower each year. For me, it’s extremely comforting and reassuring to remind myself that there is so much I don’t know. There is so much I am incapable of even imagining. So when I begin to apathetically ask myself, “Is this all there is?” I know the answer is a resounding, “No.” There is so much more waiting to be discovered.

Some St. Louisans Find Therapy, Meaning In Psychedelics As Researchers  Study Benefits | St. Louis Public Radio

Coming Back Home

This life is so beautiful. It’s amazing how easily I am able to forget that. I always get caught up in the little things. For me it’s always been easier to worry endlessly than to pause and enjoy the present moment. But of all the suffering I’ve experienced in my life, I’ve been the source of the vast majority of it. It is hard to accept that and not condemn myself for it. It’s actually a great gift to realize that strange fact. Because it means that I can also be the end of all of this suffering. I just have to keep reminding myself, especially when it’s hard.

I just have to remember that this life is so much bigger than all of my petty little problems. What an insane, incredible, amazing thing it is that I exist at all! That there is so much right in front of me to enjoy, to be grateful for. This miraculous body that I inhabit, this home that shelters me, safe and warm with my loved ones, the ability to breathe the air, to feel soft pleasant textures against my skin. I am happy. I am free. I am alive. Right here, right now. Life is good.

Under all of my anxiety lies the fear that one day I won’t be able to take it anymore. I’m afraid that all of these tiny worries will pile up around me until I can no longer bear it, that I will somehow be consumed. But I don’t give myself enough credit. I am far more powerful than I realize most days. Sometimes I am tempted to allow my worst fears to become reality, just so that I can show myself that I will still be okay. When the darkest moments come, it is the smallest things that save me. Everything that I truly need is within me, it is me.

This breath, this deep, intangible, limitless love that I hold inside, nothing can take that away from me. It is forever mine. These things are always here for me. There is an immense power that emanates from my soul. A power that I can connect with whenever I need to. A power that I don’t use often enough. But nevertheless it doesn’t leave me, even when it remains dormant.

On days like today, when I stop and really contemplate existence, I want to laugh hysterically at the beautiful absurdity of it all. I want to cry from sheer, inexpressible joy. I want to shout thank you, thank you to whatever it is that has allowed this all to be possible. I want to take my anxious mind into my arms and coo to it softly, “don’t be so silly, there is no need to be afraid, I love you, I am here for you, everything is alright, it has always been alright, it will always be alright, trust me, dear one, shush now, I’ve got you.”

What more could I possibly want? What else could I even have asked for? This life, this world, it is all so beautiful. It is absolutely perfect. Even the messy parts, even the scary parts, they are all gorgeous and necessary to create the fullness that is this existence. I am so lucky. I am so grateful that I get to be a part of this. My heart feels so full. It is overflowing. I want to fill every empty space with warmth and love and light. I want to give and give until there is nothing left of me but pure glistening bliss.

When I begin to feel like I am fraying at the edges, like I won’t be able to hold myself together, I want to read this and remember that I never have to fear coming apart, because I am already a part of all that there is. I am forever whole and complete and at one with everything. I don’t need to cut out the bits of me that feel afraid or anxious or upset, those parts of me are fine just the way they are. There is nothing wrong with them. There is nothing to fix. When they start to feel too heavy, all I need to do is put them down for a while. All I need to do is image whatever it is I’d like to be feeling instead. “Not anxious” isn’t something that my heart can understand clearly enough to provide for me. Rather I should ask it for joy or love or comfort or peace. These are things that the heart remembers well. I am always capable of returning to these emotions. Because they are my natural state.

It is no wonder that I get tired, that I feel exhausted with living sometimes. It takes a lot of energy to keep myself so far away from my very essence, to deny myself so often. It’s as if I am using all my strength to hold a door closed inside of me. Behind that door lies this unending love and happiness that is my true nature. That beautiful, bubbling light that we are made of. An energy that is beyond logic, beyond reason, beyond definition, beyond even consciousness. I don’t need to understand it. I don’t need to search for it. I am it. It is me. I am the answer. I am the joy and the love and the safety that I seek. And it’s okay if in an hour I’ve forgotten once again. Because this is where I will always inevitably return. I can come back again and again, as many times as I need to. This light within me will always be here waiting.

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Loving & Letting Go

What is grief, but love persevering.

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I’m still working my way through Les Miserables. As I near the end, I feel confident in saying it has become my new favorite book. I am going to be very sad once I’ve finished it. There are so many beautifully worded commentaries on the human condition. Things we all know well, but put in a way that reminds us of the mystery and beauty of being alive in this world. The last thing I read that really struck me was about love.

I believe it was called the great paradox of human existence or something to that effect. It has the potential to save, to transcend, while equally having the power to destroy and condemn. What a cruel world where we must have the very thing that may ruin us. There are so many contradictions in this life. Our challenge seems to be to let our love be stronger than our fear. A difficult task.

I am constantly being confronted with things that confound my black and white thinking mind. How am I to devote myself whole heartedly to a love that I can’t be sure of? How am I to hold onto this love inside while also letting go of the pain? It seems like I used to feel everything all at once, so sharply, and now I feel nothing at all most days. Neither is ideal. But I don’t know how to negotiate a happy middle ground.

I read something the other day about it being possible to still love someone, but to also let them go. For me this feels impossible. Which is what leaves me in a difficult position. I desperately want to keep my happy memories and the love I have in my heart. But I also want to be able to let go and move on. How do I do both? If I focus on letting go, my heart closes. I feel hatred and betrayal and disgust. If I try to push these feelings aside and recall more tender emotions on the subject, it once again becomes too painful to let go. I feel myself clinging desperately onto some chance of reconciliation.

It’s always been much easier for me to forget someone if I have a reason to hate them. However, this hatred tends to also taint all of the nice memories I’ve made with them. Is it really possible to have both? To cherish the memories while also accepting there will be no more? Maybe it is something that I’ll be able to master someday with more practice. Maybe it just gets easier with time.

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Happy Birthday

I am 27 years old today. I genuinely never thought I’d get this far. Each year that passes just gets more and more surreal. I remember thinking 30 was pretty old, but I’m almost there and I still feel as young as ever. For a long time now, I haven’t enjoyed celebrating my birthday. If I could, I’d let it go by unnoticed by coworkers and acquaintances. This day always made me feel sad, afraid.

I want to change that this year. A birthday is just another opportunity to choose. I can focus on the fact that I’m getting older, getting closer to the inevitable end that awaits all of us, or I can focus on being grateful. After all, I was never guaranteed a place in this world. A birthday is a time to reflect on just how lucky we are to have been born, the sheer improbability of our existence, the amazing fact that we’ve managed to make it this far. I have had 27 beautiful years on this earth. What a miracle. I am so grateful to exist.

Yesterday by pure serendipity I ended up at my mom’s house looking over things in my old bedroom. It was so touching and bittersweet. How lovely it is to look back. I’ve led an absolutely splendid life. I have been so fortunate. No matter what the future holds. I will always have those memories. I won’t forget how my life has been so abundant already. I won’t take for granted all the opportunities I’ve had to love and to be loved in return. Today I give thanks to the universe. Thank you for twenty-seven years

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What is This Trying to Teach Me

In the most unlikely place, I was again confronted abruptly with the idea that perhaps our entire reality is being personally generated from within our own minds. Or I suppose, from within my own mind. As no one else would technically exist apart from me if this is in fact the case. I think the idea struck me so intensely just because of the way it seemed to come out of nowhere within an anime I was watching. I was completely caught off guard.

Even though it may seem like a waste of time to some to consider possibilities like this that can never really be proven, I can’t help but be captivated by the idea. As rational human beings we tend to only believe what our senses and our experiences tell us. We depend on our own perception of reality and believe that it must be accurate and all there is. But I know from my experiences with psychedelics that isn’t necessarily the case. There is so much more to this existence than we can even imagine.

In the end no one really understands existence. It is still a great mystery. Why are we here? What happens when we die? Where were we before we were born? All of these things will forever remain unanswered questions it seems. This is partially why the concept that I am creating this reality for myself is so fascinating to me. Not only does this explanation provide some comfort and sense of control, it also helps me find a sense of surrender.

If I am the one crafting this reality subconsciously, then every single moment, every single person, every single experience is significant. It is all here to teach me something. I can use it all to understand myself a little bit better. For some reason looking at life through this strange lens allows me to truly feel that connection between myself and everything that is. It makes sense of that oneness I’ve come to genuinely believe in. It makes me less afraid, more curious. What is it that each moment is trying to teach me?

Part of me has always felt that reality is mostly random. I never put much weight into “signs” or things that are “meant to be.” Even though I’ve had moments that felt that way, I’ve always convinced myself it was just a result of the human brain’s endless search for patterns and meaning. Now I’m not so sure. The older I get, the less I’m sure of anything. Despite all the times in the past when I was sure I knew it all, the world has continued to surprise me.

There is something exciting in the idea that every little detail of my day is filled with some hidden purpose and meaning. It helps me not feel so afraid. I am eager to analysis my every interaction. What is this moment trying to teach me? Why do I need to be feeling this right now? Why is this experience necessary? What am I trying to show myself?

The best part about looking at reality this way is that it seems beneficial even if you are entirely wrong in the end. It certainly can’t hurt to see the world as a part of yourself, to see yourself in others. It couldn’t hurt to try to learn something from everyone you meet, from everything that happens to you. It seems like a pretty good way to live your life to me. Who knows what it could lead to? I hope one day I find out.

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This Gift

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When I was only a few years old, I can remember one particular instance on Christmas day very clearly. My older sister and I were gleefully opening piles of presents from my parents under the tree. It was early in the morning. My parents were in their bathrobes, gazing at us sleepily, but happily, from over their steaming cups of coffee.

As my sister begins unwrapping one gift, her face falls. In her hands she holds the board game Operation. I hear her shout angrily, “I didn’t want this!” To be fair, neither did I. We were both fairly timid and anxious children. The idea of a loud buzzer going off if you make a mistake in a game seemed quite upsetting. However, I can still feel how absolutely mortified I was by her reaction.

I think I must have been too young to really articulate my feelings at the time. I genuinely may have not been able to talk. (I have memories from far earlier on in life than most people I’ve learned.) But even being so young, I knew how terribly rude and ungrateful my sister was being. How could someone complain about a gift! Even if it is something you hate. It is still a gift. And gifts should be met with gratitude.

I think back on this memory a lot. Today it came to mind because I have been struggling with my anger once again. I have a tendency to get angry at the smallest inconveniences and keep that anger with me all day. Some days are worse than others in this regard. In order to quell that anger this morning, I meditated on the fact that this life, this entire existence, is a gift. Every moment of it.

How silly it is to let such small moments make me ungrateful for this gift. This unimaginably wonderful gift! I got to wake up this morning. I got to see the sun rise. I got to listen to music. I got to feel soft sensations against my skin. I got to snuggle and kiss my sweet fur children. I got to sip amazing coffee with pumpkin spice almond milk creamer!

It can be so easy to let our minds ruminate on the things that displease us. It can be so easy to forget to be thankful. The next time I find myself pouting about something, or getting upset, I am going to silently whisper thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you, universe, sweet mother earth, for giving me this existence, this consciousness! How could I ever be so selfish to ask for anything more? It is perfect in every way. Because I wasn’t owed any of it. Yet all of this was given to me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I am so grateful.

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Raised as One

I’ve read that Asian cultures generally practice collectivism. Focusing on the betterment of the whole rather than the goals and desires of the individual. This can be seen reflected even in anime. It’s easy to notice the difference between these shows and American programs. The characters are much more concerned with their family, friends, community, and humanity as a whole than themselves.

In the United States, this is almost diametrically opposed to the way we live. Americans seem to always put themselves first, maybe extending this to close family occasionally. We practice individualism and pride ourselves on our country’s focus towards individual freedoms. And while this does allow more personal independence, it feels rather isolating.

As a species, we evolved to live and work together, to support one another in order to survive. We were never meant to be on our own. I think this is one reason feeling isolated leads to so many mental health problems. Our deepest instincts are crying out that we are not safe, that something is wrong, that it is bad to be alone, dangerous even.

All of this got me thinking back to how ultimately we are all one. Irrevocably connected, pieces of a whole. Seeing what a difference different cultural beliefs can make in a society, I began to wonder. What if we took collectivism even farther? What if humans taught their children not only the value of looking out for their friends and neighbors, but that those very people were in fact a part of them, an extension of themselves? Imagine how different the world might be.

This is more of an interesting thought experiment than something I believe could or would actually be put into practice. However, I would love to see what kind of world that would create. If we were all raised from the very beginning to believe that we were not merely this physical body we inhabit, but actually just a branch of that massive tree of life, of existence. How different would society have developed? Would we still have wars? Would we have destroyed this planet that we are an extension of?

I don’t pretend to know what effect this type of culture would have on humanity. But it is certainly interesting to think about. I know I wish I had been raised that way. So that I could fully rest in the belief that I am merely a cresting wave in the ocean of existence. Maybe then I wouldn’t retain this fear of returning to the ocean.

Contemplating Solipsism and Death

Yesterday I was exposed to the idea of solipsism. This is a philosophy that says only our own mind and subjective experience can be known. Everything outside of ourselves and our own consciousness cannot ever really be confirmed or verified as true and existing. Because of this concept, solipsism is unfalsifiable. It cannot be proven or disproven.

I have considered this perspective before but never knew it had a name. I can still remember my sister and I discussing this idea as young children. Teasing my mother, saying we couldn’t be sure she was real. She and I agreed that we believed in one another, but that everyone else’s existence was suspect. I never realized until now how intelligent we were at even such a young age.

I still find this idea quite fascinating and think about it often. I’ve heard some use this as an excuse to do whatever they please whether or not that causes harm to others. I never looked at it that way though. I think it falls in line with yogic philosophy in a way. We are all that exists, but everything that exists is us. We are one with the universe and all that is in it.

For some reason this topic makes me contemplate death as well. If we are all that exists, we can’t be sure that we will truly ever die. The world around us is made up of never-ending cycles in a lot of ways. Perhaps we are just the manifestation of yet another cycle. Perhaps life, existence will also continue on in a new cycle after death brings an ending to the current one. I find myself hoping that is the case quite often. I’m not really sure what difference it makes though. Both ceasing to exist and existing forever are frightening concepts.

Death wouldn’t seem much less terrifying to me even if reincarnation is correct. As far as I know, I wouldn’t retain any of my current memories in my next life. So in a sense it wouldn’t be me anymore. I suppose that’s the part I can never wrap my head around though. I guess the me I identify as isn’t my true essence ultimately. There is a me behind the me I know. The stillness behind my eyes that watches my thoughts as they come and go.

If that continues on forever and simply my ego dies with my physical body, I’m not sure if that is comforting or not. In the end I guess I’m just trying to find a way to overcome my fear of death. I’ve been thinking about death and dying a lot lately for some reason. I’d like to find a way to make peace with it. With my own death and the death of my loved ones. Both of which encroach further and further each day. Perhaps I’m just foolishly searching for a way to justify continuing to live in denial for a bit longer.

What Is This?

I once read that coming back to the thought what is this in meditation can help bring you back to experiencing the present moment. I often do this during my meditations and throughout my day when I notice myself becoming wrapped up in anxious thoughts. It has been surprisingly effective for me. It helps me come back into my body and just notice what it feels like to exist in this very moment. Yogic philosophy and meditation have made me see a lot of things from a new perspective.

I have been atheist since I was in middle school. I still remember the moment I lost my faith, breaking down in tears while washing the dishes as the vast emptiness of the universe opened up to swallow me. I had never felt so truly alone before that moment of realization. I knew there would be no place for religion in my life from that point forward. Yet, yoga has opened me up to spirituality.

I think we all feel there is something that connects us to others and this world. There are certainly a lot of things we still don’t understand about life and death. And quite possibly never will. Still a skeptic at heart, I won’t pretend to know or make any bold claims. But I do like to let myself wonder.

I wonder what this life is. What awaits us at the end? What is the point? What IS this? I was pondering all of this while I drove the other day. I began to consider that perhaps we truly are all one. Perhaps we are each the same universe, the same grand existence, experiencing itself in different ways.

I have always struggled with the idea of death and dying. I don’t want to believe that I will die one day. It seems impossible to imagine not existing anymore. To grow old, and suffer, and disappear. Part of me hopes that I will continue existing somehow. It’s hard to even explain adequately.

There is a strange duality I feel when I consider all of existence as being one. In a sense, nothing can ever die. No one is ever alone. Yet at the same time we are always alone. There is only one. It is bizarre to feel my mind grasping at concepts it can’t quite comprehend.

All I know is that after experiencing LSD when I was younger, I realized that there is so much more to existence than what I am able perceive and understand. It brings that deep peace, that feeling of oneness. I hope that after death, there is something just as unexpected, as unimaginable waiting for us. So what do you think? What is this?