Amongst the hypnotized masses that mindlessly—yet often joyously—drift through life, you will come across those far outnumbered truth seekers. Which, if you are reading this, you most likely fall into that category: enlightened beings on a never-ending quest for the truth about life and the mysteries of the universe. The deep thinkers and philosophers of our times, many of whom might feel that they think too much for their own good. At least that’s how I feel when I spend countless hours contemplating if anything I do in my lifetime will actually matter. I inevitably arrive to the conclusion that on a cosmic scale, it just doesn’t… or wait, does it? I will say, it certainly takes some convincing myself with internal debates to write this, to work diligently on my creative projects, or to jump through the hoops of life when one thinks too much for their own good.
Between the ages of 20 to my current age of 27, I have sought ferociously after “the truth,” and proudly called myself a truth seeker, diligently studying the mysteries of the universe. Although this endless quest for truth has lead me into many magical adventures, personal discoveries, and moments of enlightenment, the struggle and confusion of life always manages to creep back in, one way or another. Sometimes, I actually envy the zombie class, wishing that I could just turn off my brain to live in that blissfully ignorant state of being. Then I could be satisfied, working as a human robot for Amazon rather than pressuring myself with all this ambition… But, fuck that. Because whatever “the truth” is, I’m here to make my dreams a reality. To experience awesomeness.
The first spark in my brain that started me on this truth seeking journey was my first acid trip at Bonnaroo in 2008. The trip was intensely visual and overall not too insightful, but for a fleeting instant, that intangible thought/feeling flowed through my brain… it was the discovery of “the meaning of life.” I had discovered the meaning of life, but just an instant later, it escaped me. The answer to all of life’s mysteries didn’t re-enter my headspace for the remainder of that particular psychedelic voyage, but I couldn’t forget that, for a moment there, I was onto something.
About 6 months later, early 2009, I took a mushroom journey late night, alone, confined to my room and the darkness. I had setup my iTunes and visualizer to liven the mood of my trip with the discography of The Crystal Method. Once the trip set in, much to my surprise, I had screwed up my music library sequence and ended up with just 1 or 2 tracks of The Crystal Method before the next band in the A-Z sequence started up, leaving me tripping to the entire discography of The Cure. I definitely would not have made that musical choice for my trip at the time, but somehow that long discography of The Cure made something click somewhere in my tranced out brain. The meaning of life! It was back! And this time, without all of the confusion of some ridiculous music festival, I was able to hang on to those thoughts, and simmer with them all night. This was, at the time, “the trip to end all trips.” Probably like my 10th psychedelic experience ever, but it was the first one that delivered profound thought over my immature focus on breathing walls and giggling. Everything just made sense all of a sudden.
So what happened to all that clarity? All that understanding? Why didn’t my journey end there? My life should’ve been complete at that point. Well, life happened. Then I started thinking too much for my own good. I’ve been through so many new phases and understandings since then. At one point, I discovered the cold hard truth about the world, especially the 3rd world. The sadness that crippled me, the need to save the world on my own — it was present at all times. The vegetarian, and vegan phases, striving to do no harm to any creature, while bringing attention to the things that really matter to those around me. This ended up having negative effects on family relations, of course, turning every moment into a socio-political debate or a struggle to prove something rather than simply being able to enjoy my family’s company.
There was the I hate America phase (which never fully went away), and the certainty that I would be better off living in Mexico or somewhere else where people were more loving and conscious. It was the summer of 2010 when I took my first trip to Mexico with the plan to live there for 2 months, but I ended up out of money and crying for mama after 2 weeks. Then came the extreme synchronistic travel adventures, and the shedding of my material attachments. A brief and magical distraction from my fears of the state of the world, and where we are headed as a species. These amazing travel experiences really made me quite blissful and certain that the purpose of life was to experience. But, I seem to be incapable of hanging on to any one idea for too long before I begin questioning again, and thinking too much for my own good.
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