“I think our lives are surely but the dreams

Of spirits, dwelling in the distant spheres,

Who as we die, do one by one awake.”

― Edgar Saltus, Poppies and Mandragora

The year was 2025. Birdsong and filtered light from the spruce canopy above rained gently upon me. Cool April air wicked the hot springs water from my clothes and hair.

“That lady was cool, huh?”

“Super cool,” Nick remarked.

We had met a couple at Umpqua Hot Springs. The woman mentioned how she had just come from Sedona and was visiting the vortex there. How the space felt so open. How she felt drawn to it.

“Do you ever meet someone and you’re just drawn to their energy? Like, you vibe with their energy? I want to be like her.” I said, smiling.

“Yup” he said, trudging forward.

We rounded the bend toward the car parking lot and suddenly I felt the air shift. It was like deja vu, but somehow more and less intense. It felt cosmic, like something was about to happen that was meant to be, but not necessarily familiar in the way that deja vu tends to feel.

‘Wake up, we miss you’ - that's what the graffiti said. There on the back of the gate that led to the parking lot. I felt this impression in my gut, like it was a message meant for me. I fell silent. How could I explain this to anyone without sounding absolutely bonkers? I hadn’t a clue what it meant then. But for the sake of brevity, and knowing me, I think it meant to wake up to my calling. To choose the path that I know deep down is meant for me, but I have been too scared to pursue. I have had those little moments of confirmation throughout my life. Those times in college classes, or when helping others, or when discussing something I am passionate about (all of them centered around psychology/therapy/helping others) where a spark inside me lit up. But life finds a way to distract you. It also finds a way to bring you right back where you’re meant to be.

I have always been fascinated by healers. By the concept of fixing someone through the right blend of herbs and incantations and intention. In a world that trends towards entropy and destruction, healing is an oddity. A miracle. But healers are often misunderstood. It is one of life’s little paradoxes (I am finding life is a bit of an absurdist - much like a king who plays the court jester, just for the hell of it). The truth is this. The best healers are better than good precisely because they have plunged the depths of the human soul & psyche. They’ve been to hell and back. Often, healers are those who grew up believing they had something fundamentally wrong with themselves. They faced intense persecution. They wandered the desert for 40 days and nights. I don’t know about you, but even as a self-proclaimed hermit, this one would sting. I’d definitely have a pet rock named Wilson.

The gift of healing can only be fostered in the dark, in the depths of personal anguish. It takes ember in childhood hurt and regardless grows, your two hands becoming a shelter from storm. This process is what makes a healer. But more than that, this personality is what makes a healer. To let the fire of growth catalyze your transformation from singular, selfish concern to altruistic pursuit. It is the personal embodiment of the feeding of the 5,000 miracle. You take your meager pain and turn it into something that saves again and again. At your most pivotal moment, you choose not to succumb to hatred, but to grace. And it is precisely that act that is your first miracle, the one that enables all miracles that follow - the physician has healed himself.

Now I am not particularly religious. But I was raised Christian, so that is my frame of reference. And I think that metaphorically speaking, the Bible has a lot of stories that contain personally relevant wisdom. We can take these kernels of truth and plant them where drought has stripped wisdom from our lives. With constant care and observation, we can bring a more full awareness to our personal development. One of my personal heroes is Carl Jung, the psychologist. He had a lot to say on the matter of personal development.

If you haven’t read anything of his, stop it. Get some help. But seriously, he is one of the greatest minds of maybe ever. His biography Memories, Dreams, and Reflections is a succinct introduction. And if you want full on psychosis, The Red Book is great, too. But one of his core beliefs is the idea of individuation; the belief that our purpose in life is to awaken to our whole self. He believed that most of our life we integrate personas dictated by societal and cultural pressures and that true peace and happiness come from shedding those masks and integrating our actual selfhood. Maybe you've seen the meme that says “I've seen the sluttiest minds of our generation struck down by a barn wedding at 23.” Well, this is that but on a societal scale. It is essentially the idea that the midlife Lamborghini for Ken or boob job for Karen could be nixed; the cognitive dissonance from people pleasing can be alleviated, even the cheating, burnout, and every other burnout ‘remedy’ we’ve concocted as part of our late stage capitalist zookosis (a rabbit-hole topic for another time) could be sidelined if you but choose an active role in your identity formation.

Maybe I make it seem like I have it all figured out. Like the healer's path is one pre-ordained by fate (maybe it is) and completely known by said healer (it definitely is not). However, that unknowing is what makes the path so powerful. The choice. The cultivation of decision. The willful alignment of agency and destiny. Saying I will not live for myself, but for others (and in so doing, living the fullest life you could possibly live - remember; life is a jester).

Here are some clues that you might be on the right path (in early Y2K internet quiz fashion):

If, like John Coffey in Stephen King’s The Green Mile, you've been blessed with a miraculous gift, you might be a healer (duh). If, also like John Coffey, you've been heinously/criminally misunderstood, you might also be a healer (just with a little more digging to do).

Maybe, like Madeline Miller's Circe, you've been drawn to traditional craft such as herbalism. Using ancient wisdom or modern science is just as valid a healing path as any other. However, even without a ‘gift’ or knack for healing, you can still be a healer. One of my favorite quotes from Circe is as follows:

“Let me say what sorcery is not: it is not divine power, which comes with a thought and a blink. It must be made and worked, planned and searched out, dug up, dried, chopped and ground, cooked, spoken over, and sung.” - Circe | Page 72, Chapter 7

Or, perhaps, you aren't the black sheep, the persistent worker, the hermit. Maybe you're Katara - the traditional healer.

Despite not always being a healer, Katara has the temperance of a healer. While generally overwhelmingly positive and helpful, she can be destructive/vindictive in equal measure (see also Sekhmet). What makes her traditional is her judgment, her sense of justice, and her loyalty to her friends.

Even if none of the above examples resonated with you, fret not. You may or may not be a healer, but the Universe will inform you of your path. All you have to do is keep your eyes open. You can still be a great healer by being a reliable friend.

As the late but great Carl Jung said: “Know all the theories, master all the techniques, but as you touch a human soul be just another human soul.” Maybe connection is the best healing there is.

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“I think that’s a cat,” I remarked.

“Oh – they’re beefing.” My partner said. He stopped the car in the middle of the road and got out. The door stayed ajar as the car made the monotone ‘ding-ding-ding’ sound. I furrowed my brow, twisting in the seat to look behind me. Here we were, in a notoriously shady neighborhood. On one hand, we could be rear-ended. On the other, we could save a stray’s life.

After what felt like an endless amount of time, my partner got back in the car. The acrobat in my stomach stopped performing for the audience of none and we played kitty police, slowly trailing the fussy felines as they marched through the streets.

“Yeah, that big dark one was trying to eat the smaller one I think” he said casually, eyes glued to the road.

“What!?!” I exclaimed, “That can’t be right.. they don’t do that, do they?”

“I dunno, I think it has the sick,” he said.

I looked forward and the one we were talking about glanced backward as if it knew. Its green eyes caught the beam from our headlights, and I could tell something was wrong with it. The lights were on, but no one was home. Tufts of fur were missing from its dull coat. It reminded me of Church from Stephen King’s Pet Sematary.

“Oh, hell nah!” I screeched. We laughed and drove off. At that point other neighborhood onlookers had come out to see the commotion (we had honked to break up the fight). We talked about it but there wasn’t much else we could do. On the way home we passed countless other strays. Some dumpster diving, some rolling in the freshly dampened gravel, others playing in the streets.

You see, we already take care of over ten cats. Five indoor cats (all of which were strays at one point) and five or more stray cats that live on our side of the neighborhood. We are at max cat-pawcity. And every time we want to help more, we are faced with dilemmas. The fun part? Life is like this. It is full of these little tradeoffs. For example: my partner and I are both tired of working in corporate. He is AuDHD and burnt out working in a system not designed to accommodate people like him. Not only that, but he is a bleeding heart and wants to follow his true calling – animal welfare. So, he is going back to school to obtain a master’s in nonprofit leadership. But this means structuring time for school while working full time, racking up debt, playing the networking game, and climbing the nonprofit ladder in the hopes of making a livable wage all in an era where nonprofits and general stewardship over the earth seem to be unpopular to say the least.

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I can’t really complain because I just have to face a shit job market and standard levels of burnout which at this point seem to be baseline for most Americans if not most people in the world.

So, what’s my point? My point is this, dear reader – tradeoffs are a part of life. Risk is inherent in everything we do. My 20-minute commute to work each way is very risky (especially if you’ve seen Arizona drivers), yet I do it. I have a stable full-time job (which I am very grateful for), yet I consider leaving it sometimes despite the risk of not being able to find something better. Why? Why? Why? Because life is meant to be LIVED and not just endured.

As a teen I would’ve never imagined myself writing these words. But in the immortal words of Elphaba, something has changed within me, something is not the same (insert sparkles here). I used to worry over every little thing. I used to crave routine and control and normalcy. And part of me still does. But now I recognize that living on autopilot isn’t truly living. I was just seeking an excuse to ‘relax’, a program that could guarantee my nervous system a break. But life isn’t like this. There are no shortcuts, no guarantees. Anyone who tells you otherwise is full of doodoo.

And here is the shocking revelation that opened my eyes. Once I stopped chasing the system that could keep me safe, I realized I was free. Free to become. And wow, that was so scary at first. Like, what do you mean I can become? Become anything I want? Whenever I want? Wake up any day and change on a whim? And I’ve done it too. I’ve been doing it for a while now. It works. You don’t have to cling to an identity. In fact, I’d argue that is what keeps people stuck and is what is most dangerous (I will save that topic for another time) but you are free to align yourself with whatever feels right at any given time. And for me now, that means pursuing a career where I can do the most good for the most people with the skills I have been cultivating all this time. I can tell stories that change the world. I can build bridges where there once were islands. I can grow community in place of loneliness, camaraderie instead of hatred, reciprocity instead of extraction. And in that way, my life can have purpose & balance. Isn’t that why we are here?

The world has bigger fish to fry than lovers’ quarrels. Yet while forests burn, habitats become data centers, and plastic fills the oceans, we watch love island. We gossip in group chats. We flirt on Tinder. This is not an indictment. It is hopefully a revelation. For better or worse, we act like Narcissus, staring into the pond while the Gods war around us. We think only of ourselves, our self-interest. Revealingly, this trait that makes us poor co-inhabitants of planet Earth also makes us selfish lovers.

The real issue that I couldn’t reconcile wasn’t the control, the distance, or the differences; it was the compartmentalization. The apathy. You see, when things got tough between my ex-lover and myself, he would distract himself. He wasn’t equipped to handle the intense emotions he felt, and so he boxed it up and put it away. And me? I needed resolution IMMEDIATELY. I needed to face it and squash it then and there. And that tension pulled me apart. That waiting and toe tapping and nail biting and stomach churning like some vomity 1600 tradwife who was sick of trying to make a meal out of meager scraps. THAT is what I couldn’t bear. And even seeing how it destroyed me wasn’t enough to get him on the same page as me. This is the real problem, not just in relationships, but in the world.

I am not going to talk about the world’s first trillionaire because that is another WHOLE discussion. But it is relevant. Because the problem is the same. That problem goes by many different names, but the root is the same – apathy.

Don’t get me wrong – my ex is not a monster. He isn’t the villain in my story. He wasn’t perfect but neither was I. Most people aren’t. They’re doing the best they can in a system and in a world that is very imperfect. Monsters are rare, and they are formed when they give in to apathy. Or when they start scamming. That is pretty diabolical, too.

I was running late to work. I looked at the gas tank and saw the dial pushing empty. “Shit,” I mumbled, half asleep. I pulled up to the nearest gas station. There was a lone man, sitting in between two of the pumps. I pulled up, parked, and hopped out of the car. The man approached me. His beard was unkempt and curly, down to his shoulders. He wore a flowy t shirt, sandals, and jeans. He raised an emaciated hand to me. I lunged backward and held my wallet close to my chest, studying his face closely before going back inside my car. He held his hands up in front of his face, backed up, and sat down between the pumps again. I was the only other person there, but he didn’t look at me again.

Immediately, my cheeks went red and I started sweating. I was flooded with embarrassment and guilt. He was a gas station attendant, and he was genuinely trying to help me. In my rush I had judged him as a threat. After the gas valve clicked shut, I hopped back out of the car and put the nozzle away. I pulled a $20 bill from my wallet, walked up to him and apologized. I handed him the money and smiled. That was a big moment for me because I had been living life on autopilot, as one does. But once I was confronted with a situation where something (someone) actually mattered, I snapped out of it. But not before almost letting the moment pass me by. And that scared me.

In my eyes, we shouldn’t live life scared. But we should be scared that we aren’t fully living. You might ask yourself what I mean. I ask myself that all the time. For the sake of brevity and relevance to this article, I mean empathy and genuine human connection. I mean community. I mean recognizing the humanity in another. Recognizing that despite the chaos, the improbability of life, the endless miles of vast nothingness, across from me are a pair of human eyes searching for the same things as me, with a past similar to mine, with similar hopes for the future, and a similar love and wellbeing for one another and the planet. This recognition that we are essentially the same is what will help us thrive while apathy will do the opposite.

Passion pure,
sun at noonday,
although powerful and majestic,
burns with its rays,
and at its peak,
long it never stays.

But give it a while,
as with age, one learns,
that passion mild
with wisdom burns,
and as the setting sun
enlivens the darkened sky,
passion understood
is most pleasing to the eye.

But above all concerns,
passion run cold-
the darkest surprise,
a dead night sky,
leaves the world colorless,
and the eyes blind.

One of my fav Substackers Vanessa Childers talks about going back to the village mentality. This means reducing humanity to its base parts; community, connection, and purpose. What does the village look like? And what have we gained by sacrificing it? (hint: a pseudo-community of capitalist dopamine-chasing zombies, forever stuck in the ‘never enough’ mentality) which is honestly so yikers. Ironically, we have regressed in our attempt to constantly progress. Who ordered the Sci-fi dystopia du jour?

So, what is the solution? It is both simple and not. We need to slow down. We need to reconnect. With the earth, with each other, and with ourselves. We need to recognize that this is our one shot to get it right for everyone and everything we love.

I think it all started in kindergarten. I remember sitting crisscross applesauce & knee to knee with my classmates on a giant rug that resembled the Earth, singing “this land is your land, this land is my land…” and dreaming. Dreams blanketed my life, like every waking moment was a hand puppet shadow show, dazzling me by the possibilities.

By the time I was 9, I had an impressive resume. I’d already animated a mud golem during a monsoon, fought and killed a dragon on a mound in my backyard, and crafted wands with found quartz & agate in the dried creek bed near my home. My companion was a thought-form giant beetle that I rode into battle on the playground. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was impossible. Until my parents told me to grow up, and my church told me to pray for forgiveness, and my closest friends moved on. Suddenly, you’re old enough for a job. Your parents send you away to live with your oldest brother in Utah, where the jobs are abundant and the pay is minimal (seriously, minimum wage is still like $7). And you have to be the best candidate in every time and every place. Your mask must be impeccable. But that is the price we pay to become part of society.

Do you remember the exact moment your childlike whimsy was crushed into oblivion by the corporate meat harvester™️ and converted into shareholder value?

Unfortunately, I do not (curse my Dory-esque memory ✊) but I do remember taking a creative writing class in college, where my creative spark was brought back to life like a crippled mummy that I demanded must immediately sprint to glory.

Needless to say, the rags & wrappings kept tripping me up. I kept asking myself where my inner child went and why could I hear him crying. I would stay up at night wondering where he’d wandered to in this moonless dark.

I’m not going to make some grand statement condemning any institutions, cultures, or identities. I realize that people have identities. For most, it is what clings them to life in a semi-sane way despite the absurdity and insanity of the world. But for me, identities feel limiting, like living in a box of my own (or worse, society’s) creation. But I will not wear the mantle of victimhood. I must press onward, forging my own path.

What I am saying is that to accept any identity, we must forfeit the parts of ourselves that don’t fit (looking at you, ugly stepsisters 💃). I’d rather accept that like Legion 😈, I am many. I too contain multitudes. I am the Walt Whitman, the Mary Oliver, the James from James and the Giant Peach. I am a rockstar, a hermit, a lover & a fighter. Rather than bind myself to a sacrificial altar, like a maiden to a bow in the raging tempest of culture, I will let the soft animal of my body love what it loves. I am not the vessel, but everything swimming inside - without borders, labels, or expectations.

So, I suppose what I am trying to say, is that my inner child grew up. And sometimes I still mourn the loss of what once was. Sometimes I wish I could see the world through the lens of my child self, with all of his whimsy & wonder. But the harsh light of reality cannot be obscured. Instead, I will create that which I am desperately seeking. I will allow myself grace to become. I will evolve as I have always done and I hope to help others not feel so lonely along the way. But if I fear I cannot move on, if my will is weakened, I will take a rest in that cabin, reminding myself serenity exists - even if only in my mind. My past and future selves are rooting for me (just as yours are for you <3).

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When I was a kid, I wanted to be all the things. First, it was an astronaut. Then, a marine biologist. Then a doctor, a botanist, a psychologist. By the time I got my degree in Psychology, I decided I didn’t want to be a psychologist. Maybe I can get a refund on my bachelor’s degree because I haven’t used it none. (Has anyone tried?)

The truth is that I have tried so many things. Each of them simultaneously more and less fulfilling than the last. I started a business. I joined the military. I worked for a marketing agency. I got marketing in-house roles (including in Fortune 100 companies). I did all the things that should spell out success and rainbows and magic and a life of utter bliss. But I am sitting here, writing words that will more than likely just be swallowed by the void. I have a stain on my shirt. Dirty glasses. A little bit of belly poking out from my shirt. I have not ridden off into the sunset with my hero. The credits aren’t rolling.

At a point in time fairly recently, I had the stomping suspicion that maybe “success” wasn’t such a simple thing. Or that maybe happiness isn’t quite so linearly correlated to success like I was raised to believe. Success and happiness look much more like seclusion for me. Quietness. Living to my own rhythm. Acting with intention. You see, I was looking at life comparing cogs, thinking one of them had to be the perfect fit. But now I see it was just an illusion. I don’t fit in the machine! And this is the way of the Hermit.

The Hermit

In Tarot, the hermit is one of the major arcana – a 22-card selection that represents pivotal moments & archetypes. The hermit card is an abandoning of mainstream culture, turning inward, and solo journey. It is the start of what Carl Jung called “individuation”. It is the shedding of the mask, the journey of finding oneself again after rejecting the persona that was forced on you since birth. It is the first breath of freedom, with a dash of anxiety/excitement. The key to being enough starts with abandoning expectations for yourself that you never made.

The Bagel

If you haven’t seen the A24 film Everything Everywhere All At Once, first of all, what are you even doing with your life? Go watch it, it’s damn delightful. To try to even begin to explain it would give me an aneurysm. But it packs a metaphorical punch with regard to philosophy & is also funny, absurd, and tender. One of the most touching lines from the film reminds me that life has only as much meaning as we are willing to give it: “In another life, I think I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.” Life is mundane. It is absurd. Lean into it, what’s the worst that can happen? And this is the second half of the key to enoughness – choose your path. And enjoy it for what it is & what it brings.

Being raised Mormon, I grew up on the story of Adam & Eve. I’m not going to do storytime here because quite frankly, there are much better stories out there. But the one key takeaway for me is that once they left the garden, they knew sorrow. And because of that, their memories of the garden were so sweet.

Life is like that. For everyone. We’ve tasted the bitter garlic. It sucks. Now we crave the sweetness.

And with that, we’ve come full bagel.