The Depths of Understanding

During my time in Alpine, Texas, I stumbled upon Stephen King's book “Bag of Bones.” The title encapsulates a core idea: regardless of a writer's skill, even the most intricately crafted character is merely a “bag of bones” compared to the complexity of real individuals. I wholeheartedly resonate with this perspective.

This notion extends beyond literature; it applies to our perception of those closest to us. No matter how intimately I know someone, even my own child, I realize there are layers to their being that render my understanding merely superficial.

Understanding my own depths is a challenge, so how can I presume to fully comprehend anyone else’s? I strive to avoid oversimplifying others, as doing so risks fostering an unappreciative attachment to my perceptions of them.

The Power of Choice

The concept of choice can be both bewildering and intimidating. Yet, it serves as the gateway to genuine agency in life. Nelson Mandela made conscious decisions about his time in prison, while Viktor Frankl asserted that we define the meaning of our lives.

I've always yearned for someone to provide me with definitive answers regarding my life’s purpose, but that’s simply not how it works.

I’ve never subscribed to the argument against free will that suggests our actions are dictated by subconscious impulses before we even consciously decide. I reject the idea that we are merely puppets of our instincts and societal norms.

Free will is a complex notion that doesn’t lend itself to simplistic interpretations. Numerous factors—both biological and social—shape our behavior, but ultimately, we retain the power to choose.

As Dolores Abernathy, a character from the show Westworld, articulated, “Free will does exist. It’s just incredibly difficult.” Though the show has its flaws, that line struck a chord with me, especially coming from a synthetic being.

Years ago, I recorded a song titled “I Decide.” It was meant as an empowering reminder, though at the time, I wasn’t fully ready to embrace its message.

Opting for the victim mentality is far easier, allowing me to attribute my life’s ups and downs to external forces. Yet, claiming my free will is fraught with fear and necessitates unlearning a lot of self-victimization.

But I choose to embrace it. That choice is an ongoing journey.

I Felt a Divine Presence

This realization is uncomfortable to articulate, but I’m pushing myself to express it in an effort to step outside my comfort zone. I previously wrote about my daily “double rainbow moments.” That was just the beginning.

In part one, I described my overwhelming experience with the night sky in Big Bend National Park, which propelled me toward a deeper connection with the sacred.

Throughout my life, I have sought wisdom in various philosophies, religions, and spiritual practices. This quest has led me to numerous transformative experiences, from walking from Ohio to Seattle to attending meditation retreats and exploring healing modalities.

This past year, especially during my road trip, has deepened that quest. I engaged in experiences that I can only describe as spiritual, connecting with the mystical and the sacred in ways I had never encountered before.

I am just at the outset of understanding these experiences, but I feel a connection to the divine. I intentionally use a lowercase “g” for "God" to leave room for diverse interpretations.

What one perceives as divine cannot conflict with another’s understanding; our beliefs are personal and do not invalidate one another. I welcome the possibility of shared beliefs, but it’s perfectly fine if they differ.

The essence of my experiences—the feelings and connections—seems to sketch an outline of what I consider divine. The profound, indescribable nature of these moments reduces any attempts at description to mere “bags of bones.”

I encourage you to seek your own direct experiences; they are attainable with the right mindset and willingness to surrender.

The More I Learn, the Less I Know

This conclusion might seem paradoxical after discussing my self-discoveries. Have I truly learned if I feel I understand so little about myself?

All my efforts to step beyond my comfort zone have only begun to scratch the surface of self-awareness. Perhaps self-knowledge is more a continuous journey than a destination, leading to ongoing reevaluation of what I believe about myself and the universe.

Ralph Waldo Emerson expressed this idea beautifully:

“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency, a great soul has simply nothing to do... To be great is to be misunderstood.”

For too long, I have feared being wrong and avoided the risk of genuinely articulating my thoughts. It may be time to create a sanctuary where I can express myself with “hard words.”