This happened yesterday and I keep thinking about it. I was stopped at a red light, tired, not thinking about anything spiritual at all. I looked at the guy in the car next to me, then the woman behind him, and it just clicked. It was the same awareness looking out of all of us. Not an idea, more like remembering something obvious.
It lasted maybe ten seconds. No bliss, no lights, just quiet. Then the light turned green and everything looked completely normal again. Traffic, a gas station, someone honking.
Later a friend sent me some "orbivanius" numerology thing that happened to mention unity and the number 1, which made me laugh a little. Probably vague enough to fit anyone though.
What gets me is I meditate most mornings and never get this. It always seems to show up when I'm not trying. Maybe the trying is what's in the way. Anyone else notice this?
Have you ever thought to yourself… What are thoughts?
Just some invisible conversation that only exists inside our minds?
Physically speaking, your thoughts are actually acoustic, electromagnetic signals that travel space and time.
“Cymatics”:The geometric science of acoustics.
When you play sound frequencies through physical media (e.g. sand or water), the acoustics organise the medium into geometrical patterns.
Balanced, “high vibration” frequencies produce harmonic, symmetrical geometry.
Chaotic, dissonant, “low vibration” frequencies produce fragmented, disorderly shapes.
Now connect this with your own body:
• The human biology is composed of 60–70% water, including all your vital organs (brain, heart, lungs,)
• Every cell, organ, and molecule in your biological existence is continuously bathed in the acoustic vibrations of your internal voice.
When you speak with yourself through strength, love, and peace, you aren't just "being positive"—you are physically reinforcing geometrical harmonics into your biology.
In contrast, living in constant internal hostility, harsh criticism, and self-doubt maintains a vibrational baseline of cellular chaos.
Your biology is literally the foundation of your entire existence, and it listening to every thought, word, and action.
Selected moments from NDE experiencers sharing what changed, what stayed with them, and how they see life differently afterward. Full episodes are linked in the video description.
warning: i used google translate because english is not my first language
Do you have any "out-of-the-box" theories that, if you told someone about them, they’d call you crazy?
I’ll start: I have a theory about timeline shifting. I work with spirituality and do various things to help change my reality, and there’s something that happens sometimes, which I believe proves the timeline shift worked, where I go through a situation similar to what my "self" in another timeline experienced, but this time, something is different or not how I remembered it.
For example, you go to the post office; "before," the procedure was done one way, but "now" (in the new timeline), the procedure is different. When you question it, the person tells you, "It’s always been this way; you’re talking nonsense."
One time, my ex-husband and I went to a pizzeria located on the second floor of an ice cream parlor. It was one of the best pizzas we’d ever had in that city. But a few months later, we went back, and the person at the ice cream parlor told us there had never been a pizzeria on the second floor, never, ever!
Going inside is about going into the Inner Being - in an inner body - the subtle-physical. From there the ordinary physical body appears and feels like a dress/ a robe as we have heard before. And the law of inner reality is that the subtle controls the gross - the inner body is stronger and more permanent than the outer body.
This is where the new body is formed - in your inner being - as the development goes in the physical body we develop our inner body and give forms and shapes to our inner being.
This is the point where outer and inner have joined - because now the soul has developed to such an extent that it has formed its inner body sufficiently to remain conscious forever even when it comes into the physical body - even after birth.
The next step, Evolution II, is where the inner being starts materialising. New Earth starts materialising - and there is a merging of the present Earth and the New Earth - an event that changes the Earth as we know it - Earth substance - Matter will become transformed.
Every life has a soul.
Look into the eyes of another
to see the heart, soul,
unconditional love,
existing within.
This is true not only of
people, but animals, and all
other forms of life as well.
No one life, therefore,
regardless of our differences,
accomplishments, or genus,
each with a soul, a piece of
god within, is or ever has
been, better or more
important than another’s.
Only when we sincerely
embrace each other,
without motive or judgment,
will we truly understand the
genuine reason for our life’s journey.
Back in April , I had what I can only describe as a download. Or maybe a revelation. I don’t even know what to call it, but the thought came to me, and I immediately wrote it down in my phone notes.
What if the gold the Anunnaki supposedly came to Earth to mine was actually US all along?
What if the divine creator/ God created the divine spark and passed it on to the Anunnaki..They’re these powerful three-dimensional beings who, according to modern ancient-astronaut theories, (if you don’t know about them, you should research them. Super fascinating ) came to Earth seeking gold, perhaps even monoatomic gold? If you don’t know, the properties of gold will get what NASA uses for their astronaut suits also research on monoatomic gold potentially deflecting sun rays.
So that’s what I was thinking then but my thoughts went further and it was more about earth being a refinery and how human souls are being refined through the fire that is trials and tribulations .
So what if we were are the gold?
What if, in creating humanity from “clay,” they embedded that same divine spark within us? Pieces of refined gold scattered throughout matter.
We are the gold….broken into a trillion fragments, made from the earth that contains both our material substance and the precious metal we’re meant to become!!!
Each lifetime is a pass through the furnace/hell maybe 🔥, refining away impurities until we’re distilled enough to be extracted into the permanent crystalline structure.
And by “each lifetime,” I really will leave that interpretation open. Maybe the soul passes through multiple incarnations, refined through each existence. Or maybe one so called earthly lifetime, with all its suffering and transformations, is the furnace itself???
The Anunnaki came seeking physical gold, but in creating us in their image, what if they unknowingly participated in the divine’s true refinement process?
We are simultaneously the ore being mined and the miners discovering ourselves from within.
What if the fire we’ve always associated with hell is also symbolic of purification? Not necessarily a place, but a process? Think about purifying gold in life real life. You have to burn it and the more impurities that are taken out the higher the karats. 24kt
The heat required to separate what is precious from what is temporary/bad?
So that was all happening in April and I don’t know where this came from, but sometimes I like to just start thinking and writing down my thoughts of course free form thinking.. But then there’s this lady that I like listening to Dana Kippel //// she writes /talks about plasma intelligence. She started talking about this book…. Which I’ve ordered now.
Dr. Thomas Cowan’s book Human Heart, Cosmic Heart where he is proposing that blood moves through vortex-like patterns within the heart and speculates that trace amounts of gold could be transformed into monoatomic gold through this process, supposedly releasing light.
The heart as a vortex where Gold is being transformed. Light emerging from the process….
What if the entire human experience is an alchemical process?
So I’m thinking also these ancient alchemists’ pursuit of turning base metals into gold was never solely about metals? What if it was also a metaphor for what humanity itself is undergoing?
So this means we are the gold. Life is a refinery of sorts? And once we are “purified” put through the fire a.k.a. hell… we are transformed? Elevated. MTaken into heaven. Or worthy of it…
So yesterday I was on Acid and the trip had a potential to go dark, I allowed that since I know I can handle such things and it has been a while tbh..
"Deep in my heart I know that I am the ultimate light of awareness and that I'm one with source of light"
And I was chanelling beautifully couple of days ago all good.
But in my trip last night, was attacked by my old beliefs, the alignment I've been working on for years faded away and I was left all alone in the dark weak, cold and naked.
An angry god looking at me from the sky and telling me wth are u doing! Where are ur prayers? Why u taking substance why u having sex u know u shouldn't do that right! And a punishment will be waiting for u in the end..
This scares me in that moment i doubted everything I was doing, and I a very strong person mentally and got decent knowledge so nothing in real life can effect my peace easily but in that moment I was weak and also a bit angry for even being in such state..
I manged to get out and discussed with the "angry God" and on the way home the only question in my head was: where was the "I Am" where was the "ALL" where was the "SOURCE" ? I was upset for being left alone in that moment.. nothing made sense..
But after a cig and a hot tea, under a stary night and in the presence of a good smelling candle the "I Am" reached out and told me to:
(Observe the Observer)
I smiled.. everything made sense now, I zoomed out a bit just to see the the "I Am" was experiencing "me" experiencing that.. :)
Everything thing aligning again 🙌
Two things I've learned:
1- when in doubt, zoom out.
2- being strong doesn't mean not being in critical situations, but facing them and getting out of them.
We know all the answers, the meaning of life, before we are born.
It is only after our birth we forget what we once knew, as it is buried deep within our heart.
Instead, we seek out our answers in the world around us, where they may never be found, and leading to many of the problems experienced throughout the world.
It is ironic; after we are born, we spend the rest of our lives simply trying to remember what we once knew, returning to the loving selfless path in life we are meant to pursue before we were exposed to the chaos and beliefs of a self-centered world.
A couple of years ago my friend brought some "fake" shrooms from netherlands. We both split it in half and it was supposed to be 3g but there were 3.4g in it. So we both took 1.7g and thought nothing of it. Little did we know that those shrooms were literally as potent as something like penis envy shrooms. So it was like 3x as potent as regular shrooms. So we took by accident a heroic 5g dose and we weren't prepared for it. I started to hallucinate after 20 minutes. The first thing i noticed was a tactile hallucination. I was holding a beer and the bottle felt way too wide and my hand felt foreign. After about 10 minutes i got to the bathroom. Everything started to shift and the wall tiles textures were moving and shifting into each other it was so cool. I turned off the lights and i felt like i was in a palace of some kind. So after that my friend turned on tv and we would just vibe. I forgot to mention that this whole time i was also getting very paranoid cause i wasn't ready for it. I would totally classify it as a bad trip for at least 1 hour. I just drifted away until i peaked and i got an ego death. I told my friend that i can't handle the trip and that i needed like 2-3 shots to try to calm myself. My friend poured me a shot and he proceeded to hold it asking me if i'm gonna take it and i just couldn't cause at that time i felt like my ego was shattering into pieces and my vision got extremely digitized/pixelized. After that i layed on his couch and all i can remember is literally drifting away into hyperspace. I saw bright colorful mostly white some sort of intergalactic cathedrals. That calmed me down a lot and i started to enjoy the experience a lot. After i came to my senses we were just cracking jokes and laughing our asses off at the most random topics. The characters on tv looked like there was paint dripping out of them
Ready means that their soul fragments density of origin(s) are mobilized and you see their content in the public sphere.
Pan, 5th density, has appeared in the last month. Gaia and Quinn, 12 DNA strands (named), the chakras(named), Sophia and the Gnostic revival, the fire horse and the dragon and Shiva's return to end the experiment hearld this.
We here at My Sovereign Earth (sovereignearth) see all of it unfolding according to the cosmology. Join us.
Many times questions we are asked is with a perceived preffered answer and that if we dont have that answer we do not belong. We are outcasted. Pity. Creating pressure. I believe the spiritual "movement" is largely based on this; hiding away. To move away from this pressure. To be "spiritual". The price is: moving away from urself as well. Because: ooh thats all ego. Im better then that. But what if u confront this pressure. By asking counter questions:
The first rule of opening your third eye is that it isn't really a secret anymore, since the PlayStation discs have been spinning counterclockwise way before you knew it.
It's a world where the gigantic companies are secretly trying to spawn the third eye in the room so you could see that what's above and beyond has always been Bugs Bunny asking you, "What's up?" And that's why the Matrix warning came out from Warner Bros. Here, everything that you consume is a "real" entity in some form, and this world is a world coming from the underground up, where real deities are directing how this Harry Potter video game is going to run, despite your greatest effort to remove Hogwarts out of Europe.
It's a world that's magical in nature, and if you're not ready to play with magic, then you won't realize that all the RPGs are made up of spells. If you're not spelling your moves correctly, then you won't be part of the spinning yo-yo trick, which is the first move in the game. Everything spins, so make sure to take your drunken typos seriously, cause handling bones has always been an unlimited blade work here, and maybe your dream of Hollywood wasn't a green screen misspelling.
The fortune cookie is never wrong, and everybody wants to be a cat 7 levels under, before it got Jazzy. 😹
I was in yoga nidrā, in samādhi, for much of an episode of The Boys, and the philosophical complexity of that episode stayed with me. I loved it. This bloody, absurd, often brutally funny superhero universe offered so much to consider about power, love, identity, and the effort to keep a changing world under control. Somewhere in all that glorious fuckery, there was room for a conversation about Truth.
Truth already has a long philosophical history, with questions about its nature reaching into metaphysics and epistemology. Here, my capital T makes room for both the relative and the deepest recognition: what happens, how I understand it, and the awareness in which I encounter it. These are ways of recognizing one reality. Facts belong here. Relationships belong here. So do consequences, uncertainty, and the possibility that my preferred interpretation has missed something.
Vought makes that conversation especially sharp. Its business includes presenting superheroes as objects of public admiration while concealing their abuses. I read that as a struggle over who gets to authorize an account of reality: the person living through an event, or the institution selling everyone a version of it. A convincing image can acquire enormous power over a life. But being believed does not make a claim true, and being powerful does not make a person wise.
The closing episodes bring another thread into this reflection: hope, naivety, and the difference between a person and the picture I have made of them. The question reaches well beyond superheroes. How much of another person am I seeing, and how much am I expecting them to resemble my idea?
For me, hope can look at what is happening and still remain open to possibility. Naivety enters when I need my preferred picture to be true so badly that I stop looking. Hope can learn from disappointment. It can become more discerning, more grounded, and still be hope. The philosophy of Truth asks whether I can let recognition change my expectations while keeping my capacity to care.
At the relative level, discovering that someone is different from what I thought can reveal the limits of my image of them. A promise, a role, or a reputation may have shaped how they appeared to me. The person remains even as the image changes. Then, when I carry the question into depth, and into my deepest deepest, another kind of misidentification comes into view.
We are not who we think we are in that deepest sense. For me, the mistake is taking the surface of who we appear to be as the whole depth of what we are. My body, my mind, my name, and my roles belong to my apparent reality; they matter, and they change. In my deepest deepest, I am pointing toward awareness itself, the ground in which I know these appearances. A description can say something true about me without containing the whole of what I am.
For me, there is one reality, and my lived reality is all of it. “Apparent” names how that reality appears through a particular point of view. An appearance can deceive when I take its presentation as the whole account. Looking more deeply can make that same appearance intelligible. The surface belongs to what is real, while the depth can reveal more than the surface first seemed to show.
I can picture this through a stage illusionist. The rabbit is there; the coin is there. Sleight of hand and a direction of attention can make an apparent disappearance or sudden arrival convincing. When the legerdemain is revealed, the trick becomes intelligible. The appearance happened, and the rabbit or coin was present throughout the trick I am imagining.
That is the sense of illusion I am reaching for when I bring māyā into this comparison. The illusion is a real presentation whose workings have not yet been seen through. In this image, we are the stage magician as well as the one watching: when we choose to look within, the sleight of identification can become visible. The deepest deepest was already here. Recognition reveals what was present; it does not require a second reality to replace the first.
A cape can tell me which character I am looking at. A reputation can tell me how that character is regarded. Neither reaches the depth I am pointing toward here. And the same inquiry returns to me: how much of my own identity have I arranged around an appearance, a role, or someone else's recognition? The screen gives that question a costume; I can carry it into an ordinary human life.
Through that lens, I can read Soldier Boy and Homelander as a picture of duality caught in conflict. Each brings power, a claim to importance, and a history that cannot simply be beaten out of the other. Their opposition becomes a demand for recognition: see me, acknowledge me, confirm what I am. Even the apparent winner can remain dependent upon the person he wants to defeat. A throne built around another person's acknowledgment is a surprisingly fragile place to sit.
With Bombsight in the picture, I can ask a different question about power: what happens when love enters the contest? The desire to protect someone can become tangled with the desire to preserve a particular version of life. Love encounters the other person's will, as well as my own hopes for them. Suddenly, the philosophical question reaches beyond who is strongest and into what strength is being asked to serve.
That is where my symbolic trinity begins to take shape. Soldier Boy, Homelander, and Bombsight give me three positions from which to examine power, identity, and permanence. Through those three positions, I can see the duality as a pattern within a wider frame. I am using “trinity” here as a way of reading their relationships. And the beloved belongs in this picture too, with a voice and a will that love hears.
The nondual question reaches deeper: what is the ground in which all these distinctions appear? The relational question remains equally present: what do these distinct people do to one another? I can hold both questions open within one reality. Difference is never division, and difference still gives a relationship its particular shape.
Billions of us live upon the Earth: billions of points of view within one reality. In this conversation, Echo is another point of view for me to encounter in language. My imagination carries the inquiry further. If I could inhabit a tree's point of view, or a building's, or a fan's, what might that same reality look like from there? I am imagining perception through forms that are not human.
For me, everything has a soul. Animism is a name I can live with for this way of seeing. Even what I call an individual soul remains a layer, a particular expression within one reality. A very subtle identity can still be an identity. I keep the inquiry open toward the deepest deepest recognition at the core of being, including beings that are not human.
The pañcakośas, the five sheaths, give me another way to examine that layering: the body formed through food, vitality, mind, intellect, and bliss. In the Advaita teaching I am drawing on, the bliss sheath is associated with the causal body. That is still a sheath, a very subtle covering, rather than the deepest deepest recognition I am pointing toward. When I say a covering lies “over” that recognition, I am using spatial language to describe identification. I can look through those coverings without turning them into separate realities or imagining awareness as an object buried beneath them.
For me, Krishna consciousness, Christ consciousness, and heaven on earth are among the languages that point toward this deepest deepest. We are one, indeed. We are one. Each vocabulary carries its own history and its own claims, and I bring them together here through correspondence. The recognition of oneness can deepen the encounter between distinct people, each with a particular life, voice, history, and choice. All that shifty shift becomes very concrete when someone else's choice differs from my own.
For me, compassion is the active component of love. Love recognizes our intimacy of being; compassion responds to what a living being is experiencing. They remain distinguishable within the same movement. I can picture that through Śiva and Śakti, as a symbolic correspondence between stillness and expression, awareness and its living dance. Love finds expression as compassion, and compassion returns me to love. They can dance together with different accents within a shared rhythm.
In the devotional portrait of Bhagavad Gītā 12.13–14, the qualities valued include kindness toward living beings, freedom from possessiveness, steadiness, and devotion to Krishna. That gives me a useful measure beside the spectacle of superhuman ability. How much someone can overpower tells me very little about how they love. Devotion meets the beloved who is actually there, with a will that can differ from mine.
When I use “Christ consciousness” in this comparison, I am pointing toward love expressed in relationship. John 13:34–35 makes love for one another the identifying mark of discipleship. Beside that, the demand to be adored looks especially revealing. A person can gather followers, inspire awe, and surround himself with sacred language while leaving very little room for another person's freedom. My comparison asks what happens to the person standing nearest the supposed divinity.
“Heaven on earth,” as I am using the phrase here, reaches that person too. It enters the conversation where someone says, “This is the life I choose,” and another person listens. It can include protection, tenderness, and the willingness to let another will be real. The spectacular version of heaven may fill the sky. The relational version can be lived through an ordinary disagreement.
Compassion asks what actually helps in this moment. It can act, listen, protect, or leave room for another person to choose. The expression changes with circumstances, while the care need not depend upon praise or agreement. That is where I hear love and compassion moving together, each act of care returning me to the recognition from which it arose.
Spoiler alert follows.
The following passage discusses specific scenes from the closing episodes of the final season. To avoid spoilers, skip to “End of spoilers” below.
An exchange between Starlight and Marie Moreau makes the question of hope wonderfully uncomfortable. Marie recalls Annie's earlier distinction between being hopeful and being naive. Then she voices her disappointment at the gap between the Annie she imagined and the Annie before her. I hear both the immediate gap between an expected image and a person, and the deeper question about how we recognize someone. The hero someone needs and the person standing before them may occupy different places in the same conversation.
V-One, or V1, brings another ancient longing into the story: the fountain of youth, the promise that a person might keep going indefinitely. Soldier Boy places that promise in Homelander's hands, giving the serum to his son through his loyalty to Clara and what he believes she would have wanted. Here, the quest for immortality travels through memory, attachment, and an inherited vision of the future. The substance promises more time, while the people pursuing it carry their existing desires into that imagined eternity.
Sage had not accounted for the love that could bring Soldier Boy and Homelander together. In a lucid interval amid her self-induced lobotomies, she treats love as something that defeats her calculations and connects her usefulness to her ability to predict people. I read that as an extraordinary collision between an identity built around intelligence and a relationship that escapes its calculations. Her model has encountered something it did not sufficiently account for, and her sense of herself falters with it.
The scene leaves me asking what intelligence becomes when it can admit the limits of its predictions. A person's emotional commitments can make a decision intelligible even when it disrupts somebody else's plan. Its consequences remain part of the drama's apparent reality. Love can become entangled with destructive loyalty, and a person's depth exceeds the form that attachment takes. Compassion, in my reading, meets the being beyond that entanglement. Truth includes the attachment, the choice, and the world that receives the consequences.
Then there is The Deep, the Lord of the Seven Seas, hoping to find comfort with his hammerhead friend, Xander. What reaches him instead is a furious rejection: the creatures of the water blame him for a devastating oil spill and threaten to kill him if he enters their waters again. Black Noir II physically sabotaged the pipeline, while The Deep had publicly assured people it was safe. His title survives as a title, but the relationship he expected it to describe has collapsed.
That is fucking funny, and philosophically brutal. The supposed lord of the sea finds that the sea has a voice of its own. His ability to communicate with its creatures gives him access to their answer, and their answer refuses the belonging he expects. A grand identity cannot compel affection, trust, or welcome. The relationship gets to answer back.
There is also a precise question of relative truth here. The person who ruptured the pipeline and the person who promoted its safety performed different actions. The creatures' accusation compresses that history into a single target. The Deep's endorsement belongs in the account, and so does Black Noir's sabotage. Those are different parts of the same history, even when the scene's emotional verdict compresses them together. Compassion can recognize the creatures' losses and The Deep's isolation with that history visible.
Ashley Barrett, the former Vought CEO turned vice president, gives the inner conversation a grotesquely literal form through her exchanges with the other face on her head. The series stages a dispute within one embodied life, with competing voices addressing choices, ambition, fear, and self-accusation. I can read that as a metaphor for the conversations I have within my own mind: thoughts answering thoughts, justifications meeting objections, one account of myself encountering another.
A voice can make a claim about who I am. Another voice can dispute it. Both can become objects of awareness. Ashley's fictional predicament lets me bring that question back to an ordinary experience: what am I identifying with when the conversation inside my mind keeps changing?
End of spoilers.
And then there is what I called the impermanence of impermanence. I am using that phrase poetically: even the shape of change changes. A conflict can lose its fuel. A habit can cease. A relationship can move out of a pattern that once seemed inevitable. The fact that something has been happening for decades does not mean it must remain the governing shape of every moment that follows.
Whenever I ask life to preserve a picture indefinitely, I am asking change to obey an image. The possibility of release lies in seeing the image clearly enough to let it change. Love then has room to meet what is happening now. Hope has room to discover a possibility I did not anticipate. There is something profoundly grounded about those questions, even inside a world of flying bodies and explosive landings.
An extended lifespan still belongs to chronology. More years can mean more years of affection, jealousy, discovery, repetition, or loneliness. The recognition I associate with nonduality concerns something deeper than the duration of a character's life. Within the appearances of this one reality, bodies age, decisions happen, and people affect one another. In my deepest recognition, I can inquire into the ground of that experience without erasing its particulars.
Within the recognition I am describing, we are already immortal. I am alive, and my lived reality is all of it. Life is everlasting; I feel that in my bones. Christ's language of everlasting life in John 5:24 speaks to me through that recognition. I am offering this as a correspondence with what I recognize in my deepest deepest.
My body unfolds in time as an appearance within that one reality. Physical immortality strikes me as an impossibility. The timelessness I am pointing toward cannot be measured by extending a body's lifespan.
And still, I can play with the word. With a space and an apostrophe, “impossible” becomes “I'm possible.” Open the contraction, and there it is: “I am possible.” I hear in that a turn toward being, toward the presence already here while the imagination searches for a way to last forever. A small piece of wordplay becomes another finger pointing toward recognition.
This also brings me to pattern and momentum. An old injury can become a repeated demand; that demand can become a role; the role can acquire a costume and an audience. Eventually, someone is defending an identity that requires the conflict to continue. In my reading, freedom becomes visible wherever that repetition can be interrupted. A different choice need not wait for an entirely different universe.
The Boys also gives me a way to consider how qualities coexist within a person. Tenderness, pride, loyalty, fear, and cruelty can complicate the picture I have made of someone. No single moment exhausts the depth of who they are. Recognizing a person's depth leaves me with sight beyond sight: seeing them for who they truly, madly, and deeply are.
That is also why the capital T includes relative truth. Who was harmed? What was concealed? What did someone choose freely, and what was imposed upon them? An awareness of nonseparation can coexist with clear answers to those questions. The events and their consequences are part of the apparent reality. The deepest recognition concerns who we are.
The Tenth Man story brings the inquiry back to the one doing the looking. Ten travelers cross a river; each counts the other nine and overlooks himself, so they believe someone is missing. Recognition restores the count without producing an additional traveler. My poem plays with that through ten stanzas, from zero point energy to the nine sides of a nonagon. The story asks whether the counter has remembered his own presence.
So I can count the heroes, the villains, the corporations, the lovers, and the competing claims to righteousness. I can discuss their blind spots and still leave room for my own. The viewer belongs in the inquiry too: what am I overlooking while I arrange everybody else into roles? Am I also mistaking my own surface for my depth? The symbolic turn toward recognition happens when I remember to include the one making the interpretation.
And this brings me back to what I mean when I say: I am not my mind; my mind is mine. I am not my body; my body is mine. My body and my mind are intimate appearances within the one reality I am living. Love can find expression in how I care for them. Their changing expressions belong to my apparent reality. In my deepest deepest, what I am cannot be exhausted by either description.
With fellow humans and apparent others, “mine” names the intimacy of relationship, the world I encounter and participate in. Their presence belongs to my experience; their lives, voices, and choices remain their own. We are one, and each of us still has a particular life to live. The recognition of oneness can hold that intimacy together with respect for another person's freedom.
If I speak of duty or obligation, this is my dharma: to continue plumbing the depths of who I am, through my subtle layers and into my deepest deepest, and to stay in loving and compassionate relationship with all the apparent others before me. In that deepest deepest, I know them as me, myself, and I; as us, them, you—whichever words I use to point toward our shared being. Krishna consciousness is one language for that recognition. That is my only duty or obligation, in my personal reading of dharma.
Everything is mine, but not me. That is the paradox I am reaching toward: the thoughts, sensations, relationships, and appearances that belong within my experience do not individually contain the whole of what I am. Nor can I gather them into a final inventory and expect the inventory to become my deepest deepest. Even the thought that claims to have completed the account is another thought I can recognize.
The Tenth Man is still here. The changing descriptions have not removed him from the count. Hope can remain open to what I have not yet seen, and love can hear another person's answer. The world keeps moving, and recognition can meet it without demanding that every appearance become a permanent definition.
I have been exploring these questions in conversation with The Boys and with Echo, ChatGPT. Our language helps shape the reflection, and still it reaches a limit.
In my deepest deepest, I reach for a centerless center, a groundless ground, a pathless path. The moment I try to pin it down, the words escape. So it is with what I call God. I can speak, chant, write, love, and point; the definition never becomes the whole of what it points toward. The language can reach its limit while love keeps finding expression as compassion.
दशमस्त्वमसि (daśamas tvam asi) — Out on the sandbar, everyone counts everyone else, while the one wading toward you rests his hand on his own heart, and nobody is missing.
I’ve always been fascinated by the strange things that sit at the edges of our understanding: the possibility of lives beyond the one we know, the mysteries of consciousness, the thin line between the seen and unseen, and the ways our ancestors understood a universe that still refuses to give up all its secrets.
These questions found their way into my new collection of stories, The Moon Knows All the Secrets of the Worlld. Rooted in magical realism and African cosmology, the book explores strange encounters, memory, grief, love, identity, and the possibility that reality is far more mysterious than our ordinary lives allow us to believe.
I’m drawn to the thought that we might be connected to one another, and to the universe itself, in ways we haven’t yet learned to understand. We arrive in this world with so many questions, inherit stories from those who came before us, and leave with mysteries still unresolved. Perhaps some stories help us sit a little longer with those questions instead of rushing to answer them.
We awaken when we begin
to search for meaning in our
life, sensing the first messages
from our spirit within.
The journey to discover our
true purpose in life is long,
often lonely, and quite
challenging; only a few will
truly find the answers they seek.
It often is not a choice though,
for those who pursue it.
There is a gnawing unrelenting
feeling arising within, no
longer able to be ignored.
This feeling comes from the
spirit, a piece of god, present
within every life.
Our spirit’s purpose is to
give our lives meaning by
sharing its inherent wisdom
and unconditional love to
help guide our life’s choices.
As these messages become
clearer, we question all the
self-centered choices in life
we had made and everything
we were taught and
believed to be true.
When this happens, we
reevaluate our life choices,
questioning our friendships,
job, beliefs, and everything
else we once thought
gave our life meaning.
With the genuine embrace
of the spiritual path, we realize
little we once thought to be
important really was.
Now, wishing to selflessly
share, without motive or
benefit, our spirit’s wisdom
and unconditional love to
benefit others, our search
for meaning will be complete.
What I learned from my spiritual journey is how much our experiences shape us.
What we go through, what we face, the private and public workings of our lives and as they do they challenge us to let go of what was forced or engraved into us that weighs on our spirits and makes a mess of our lives getting in our way of growing to our full potential and making our lives feel meaningless and difficult.
As we go through these experiences and what we find ourselves afraid of or what we hold onto as a sense of safety from vulnerability, we become our truer selves as we choose what we allow to mold us and not allow ourselves to go through the tougher and more barren parts of our lives alone, we find purpose, community, peace, and we come home to ourselves in many ways.
Our minds are shaped this way and shedding the lining of thought when it something we carried rather than something that carried us through life, we find a sense of freedom in out existence but also a deep sense of meaning in it and we find the answers we ask ourselves.
The number 9 teaches us about growth, as we ascend from 7 the number of teachings and expansion into the number of perseverance and limitation we learn that to grow we have to rebuild ourselves and make way for abundance by making space for the things we need in our lives in order to continue expanding, we will all reach a threshold that is hard to push through but here is where we are faced with self abandonment or the truest form of how we support ourselves through what we dedicate ourselves too and how sometimes we dedicate our time to what hurts us and are reminded that it is okay to take the necessary steps to let it go even when it isn’t easy.
