I often have this pull to write but when I finally find the time to do it, the words don’t want to come out.

Unless I’ve misunderstood what method is required for expression. Maybe not everything that wants to come out is made of words; “not every visitor announces itself with a name” [unknown]. I wonder how often I’ve mistaken the need for expression by reaching for the pen when what I really needed didn’t require words. Maybe sometimes the expression that seeks to come out is in the form of tears and I often mistake this by thinking my being simply needs to write. I don’t know. I only know that when I write I become someone who thinks, not feels. It’s hard for me to be both when I write.

But who’s got time to feel nowadays, right? In a world that demands constant movement, feeling has become quite the inconvenience. Thinking, on the other hand, can join you while you complete your daily tasks. But feeling? It usually asks that you stop what you’re doing, so I postpone it… Not because it is unimportant but because it can be that powerful.

Nevertheless, writing can be a useful tool by allowing the unseen to become visible. But there is a danger in giving form too quickly… It can be wrongly reduced when it shouldn’t.

I notice a voice inside me asking “what’s the ultimate point?” and I know people who might read this will also want to know where am I heading with all of this. I don’t like wasting people’s time and I don’t like mine being wasted either. I was taught that if I’m going to ask someone to join me somewhere, I should know where we’re going- but I don’t. In other words, I don’t have a point.
My mind said what it needed to say, it pushed feelings aside… or maybe down? Not sure which direction the feelings go sometimes- because it was too busy thinking, choosing words, and arranging sentences, trying to make everything as coherent as possible given that there is no final destination waiting for either one of us.

I don’t know how or when it began but for quite some time now, I have been the sort of person that feels quite comfortable with not knowing the answer to big questions, and sure… sometimes the “smaller” questions, too.

My life has drawn me toward psychology, spirituality, religion, philosophy, history, and science—fields that are often treated as separate, yet all of them ultimately emerged from the same root: a philosophical inquiry on a random day.

In any case. Through the years, I have learned that leaving the door open to possibilities and intellectual humility are especially useful when it comes to topics like the ones mentioned. As the scale of the question grows, or the larger and more fundamental the question, the more essential this openness and humility become.

The reason I find this [intellectual humility] important is because I have found that it protects us from the rigidity that can arise when we become overly attached to our beliefs, theories, or conclusions. It allows us to remain curious rather than defensive. Intellectual humility basically recognizes that our knowledge will never be complete and accepts that we have limitations for understanding things of life that are much larger than we are. It helps you live with uncertainty, not because certainty is bad… but because some questions are so vast that humility becomes part of understanding them.

Being open minded, which is essentially malleability in thinking: is allowing your head to wrap itself around the crazy, or the seemingly impossible. It is the ability to entertain possibilities without immediately accepting or rejecting them.
[Let us not forget that many discoveries stemmed from what at first sounded completely insane…]

Between these two qualities [intellectual humility and open mindedness] you create a paradoxical path toward deeper understanding: the less certain we are of having the answers, the more capable we are of understanding— a hidden value of not knowing.

This becomes especially important when discussing subjects such as consciousness, God, physics, or the nature of the Universe. These touch every aspect of our existence, yet I often notice people speak about them with what seems tremendous certainty...
I wonder: how can they be so certain? and also… how can one simplify something so profound?

I understand humans naturally seek understanding and there is tremendous value in knowledge, evidence, and reason, but I do sometimes worry if this chase for certainty can also tempt us to reduce what is profound into something more manageable just for the sake of time: to know right now. Some things are so complex that even “certainty” can become a form of reduction.

The older I get the more I find myself in awe of just how much I don’t know, and what’s even more interesting is that it’s not prompting blind belief, or skepticism, no… it’s calling a completely different posture entirely which I did not expect, and that is: reverence.

Yes, questions and explanations are part of our nature, they are how we explore, discover, and make sense of the world, but there is also wisdom in being able to stand before what is immeasurably vast and accept that we may never fully understand it, or even recognize that the answers we do hold know could very well be revised in the next 24 hours. And not as evidence of poor intelligence, but more like a reminder of the extraordinary depth and complexity of the existence you’re part of.

When I was around 10, or maybe 11 years old, there was this song I particularly liked. It was one of Shakira’s songs titled “Octavo dia” (Eighth day). Back then I didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics, that’s just not something you usually do at that age. Instead, it’s more common to like songs based on the overall melody and feelings it gives you.

Fast-forward to a few months ago (I think… but who’s counting), I remembered this song again and how much I used like it. So I decided to listen to it, mostly to test my memory and see if I could spit it back word for word like I once used to.

So there I am… in my car, looking for the song on Pandora.
I find it (of course, I do).
I hit ‘play’.
And there it is…

The initial seconds of the song instantly took me back. I wasn’t in my car anymore- I was again 10 or 11, alone in a bedroom that probably felt a lot bigger than it actually is, listening to the song with some cheap 90s headphones over my ears.

But this time, I listen. The words are no longer just background noise as I probably used to think. Needless to say, I was not only impressed by the lyrics but also at the fact that Shakira was quite young, maybe too young, when she wrote it.

In any case, I felt this would be a worthy song to share with others. I’ve translated the lyrics into English and added the original song at the end for those who are curious to hear what the song sounds like.

On the eighth day, God, after so much work,
To relieve some tension, after He looks around, says:
“Everything is very good, it’s time to rest.”
So, He went for a walk in outer space.

Who would’ve imagined, that upon God’s return,
He’d find everything in an infernal disorder.
And that He’d become just another unemployed figure.
A rate that’s annually increasing without stopping.

Ever since then, some claim to have seen him,
Wandering the streets alone.
Patiently waiting for someone
He can calmly have a conversation with.

Meanwhile, this world keeps spinning and spinning
Without a way to stop it.
And down here, a few of us are being moved around like chess pieces.
I’m not the sort of idiot who can be easily convinced.
But I’m telling the truth. Even a blind man can see it…

If, out of lack of purpose or excessive loneliness,
God would not resist any longer and go someplace else.
That would be our loss.
We’d have no other choice but to worship Michael Jackson, Bill Clinton, or Tarzan.

It’s harder to be a king without a crown,
Than it is to just be an ordinary person.
Poor God, He’s not in magazines,
Since He’s not a model, or an artist, nor part of a royal family.

Meanwhile, this world keeps spinning and spinning
Without a way to stop it.
And down here, a few of us are being moved around like chess pieces.
I’m not the sort of idiot who can be easily convinced.
But I’m telling the truth. Even a blind man can see it…

When you dream about places you’ve never been to, yet feel familiar and you notice the people in these places change along with you as if time existed there… You might begin to question if it’s truly a dream, or if you are the part that keeps leaving.

I often experience dreams where I felt that I had been there before- in a previous dream, Whenever I return, I recognize the places and the people. The strangest part about it is that the people in these familiar places are starting to age along with me, as if they kept living while I was away.

It makes me wonder if the old idea of living in parallel realities simultaneously is more real, and close, than we imagine, and dreams serve as a sort of gateway to return to each one.

When contemplating on this, I also wondered if maybe this explains some, or all, the sudden burst of insight or epiphanies we all sometimes get from time to time, or those subtle knowings that don’t always belong to anything that happened here but instead maybe leaked from one of the other realities. Maybe the “me” over there in some sideways reality figured something out and it slipped through to the “me” over here.

I’ve also considered how even if I happened to visit some of these places and I cannot recall the next morning what I dreamt about, I still feel like I didn’t come back empty handed. My being knows it smuggled something into this reality from wherever it went during sleep.

I don’t even know where to begin.

I guess it’s a good idea for me to lead with: I am aware of how far from “spiritual” it will all sound. I still cannot always implement a spiritual approach under certain circumstances.

Five years ago I decided to go back to college to get a degree in Psychology. I’ll be graduating with my bachelors next month (May), however, I do still need to pursue my masters— which was my plan all along since there’s hardly anything you can do with just a bachelors in psychology. In order to help people ( to become a licensed mental health counselor) you must, at the very least, have a masters.
Good. No problem there.

About a year ago, I decided to offer myself as a substitute teacher at the nearby schools here in my area: a beautiful, safe and family oriented suburb in Texas (we moved here precisely because we heard it had great schools and it was just the perfect place to raise children). I figured it would be a good idea that whenever I have a moment between my own school responsibilities, I could help out at the schools where my kids attend, but I was also curious about what the environment was like there, to ensure they were going to solid places for the hours they are there.

Although as have not been needed at the elementary school my son attends, I have, however, been called multiple times to go sub at the junior high my daughter goes to. As well as the high school that both would eventually be going to once they reach that grade level. So, I’ve basically been subbing for classes with the age groups between 12 and all the way up to 17.

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If we’re going to talk about irrational fears- one of them, for me, is the fear of losing my “high” [my spiritual high]. Isn’t that absolutely ridiculous?

I notice a fear that certain people in my life could pull me out of it, especially if I have to be around them often. You know the feeling when someone is so far from what you’re trying to cultivate within yourself that being around them starts to feel like a risk. You can handle them in small doses, but too much exposure feels like it might undo something inside you.

So in my case, it’s my spirituality. There’s this subtle fear of being pulled out of it—of forgetting what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt, what I’ve understood. And because of that, I want to protect it.

When I go on walks I get some of the most brutal realizations sometimes and today I got this one. Quite a shameful one for me to admit. But here we are!

People can feel “contagious”, as if being around them might pull you into their patterns. And yes, we know very well that our environment can have a strong influence in shaping us-but, and this is the part we tend to forget: that’s if we allow it.

It’s undeniably easier to stay in that “high” when everything around you supports it.
When the people, the places, and/or the conversations all align with what you’re seeking. And when that alignment isn’t there, it’s tempting to want to seek a way to rearrange your life so you can get that support. People do go to great lengths to be able to get environments that make it easier to protect their “high”.

Now, if you have that kind of aligned environment, you are lucky, since it allows you to go deeper, or further, without the constant friction.

The downside?

At some point, you will encounter the very people and situations you’ve been steering clear of. And that’s when your inner strength gets put to the test. Because avoiding something isn’t necessarily about them, it’s about us (you, me). We might feel uncertain about something inside us. Maybe deep down there’s doubt about how solid what we are cultivating inside us truly is… If it were stable, would it feel threatened?
And so, that subtle sense of fragility is what could be driving the need for reinforcing environments and/or aligned people because without it maybe you’re not too sure if it can stand on its own.

You could say I am one of the unlucky ones. I do have to face the constant friction. On a daily basis I see how my being gets pulled out of my high and crashes into old tendencies and takes it all so seriously and gives it all so much weight. I have to stand back up many, many, many times several times a week and practice all my things over and over again. Some days I notice the fragility, other days it feels strong. Some days are easier and give me hope in my abilities, other days I wonder: “I’m not meant for any of this”.

Eventually, though… you go through this cycle of up and down enough times that you learn to not take them as heavily as you once used to. And when you do (take it heavily) you just try to remember it all over again. It’s that simple.
It’s all just “things”. It’s: people being people, you being you, the ants being ants, your boss being your boss, the bills being bills, the car being a car, the ocean being the ocean. Everyone and everything is acting out their role as much as you are acting out yours. The high being the high, and the low being the low.

Straight to the point:

It is lines like those that can cause people to leave a place unnecessarily and miss an opportunity for tremendous growth, but mostly, it can cause people to keep jumping from place to place, or person to person without taking the time to address what it is that is causing the “constant disappointments” to begin with.

*Important note: if you’re being abused, psychologically, emotionally, physically—please… yes, find a way to get yourself out. This does not imply permanently, but definitely until the abuser seeks professional help and the dynamic can shift to a healthy one.

As we know not everyone is in those situations- and this messages is for those who are not in such conditions.

Let’s go back to the initial statement:

“What is meant for you will not cause you constant disappointments”

Now, is this referring to people? Or places? (E.g. toxic/unhealthy work or living environment)

The answer to these depends on how far back or how close you stand to it.

If you zoom in on these matters, one tends to evaluate so many aspects about it, and many questions arise- each must have their corresponding answers. Are we talking about a person? Yes/no. What did they do? How did they say it (tone, delivery method, choice of words…)? How long have you had a relationship with this person (spouse, friend, parent…)? Did this person have prior knowledge of X that potentially excuses what they did and/or said? Etc.
Zooming in can, and does, provide many answers but it can also continue to feed an insatiable thirst for more answers and sometimes the solution is not to answer more questions.

Standing back, or zooming out can, and does, provide us with answers but I find that the urgency and paranoia dwindles here. For this specific scenario, the answer is the same. Whether it’s a person or a place that is causing the “constant disappointments”, the answer is simply: it doesn’t matter.

At first this might seem nihilistic, but give it a bit more thought (or feeling space) and you’ll notice that it actually brings a sense of relief; it’s freeing.

One can say: “nothing matters” and go straight into depression or one can utter, or just think, the exact same line [“nothing matters”] and jump with joy because they feel lighter.

I get it though. Disappointment is really uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s more than just discomfort- it can be plain heartbreaking.

How could they?
Why would they…?
They must not love me enough…
What’s wrong with… me/them.

Those are all valid and I’ve said them all.

But there comes a point where you begin to see how worthwhile it can be to learn to withstand the pain that comes from such disappointments.

I am slowly learning that no person and no place, offers long-lasting comfort. Eventually, even comfort itself brings us discomfort.

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t judge anyone that wants to move from a place of constant disappointment to a place with less triggers [because that’s what they are…]. Everyone has their personal limits on how much they are willing to put up with.

This is where it gets tricky.

How much should one tolerate?
When is it wise to stop?
When does it cross the line and enters some form of abuse?

I think paying attention to our bodies is very crucial at this point. Our mind and body will show us when a break is needed and for how long that break should be. Short-term? Long-term?

But see…?
The brain has a sneaky way of pulling us back into a narrow perspective, where our perception of reality latches onto our "awareness” (for lack of a better word…and time) like thick slime. It brings us back to a place consumed by details… by questions, by answers, by what’s right and wrong, and by how things should be, because that’s what we were taught to focus on.

And yet, there’s another way of seeing it—just a flicker of consciousness away—that offers an entirely different perspective. One where, as Ram Dass said, “the guru, God, and the self are all the same”.

Don’t get me wrong, there isn’t anything inherently wrong with the narrow perspective, it’s just… small… Or like a room you forgot had windows in it.

.

…

……..

…………...

God’s presence is there in front of me, a fire on the left, a lovely
stream on the right.
One group walks toward the fire, into the fire, another toward the
sweet flowing water.
No one knows which are blessed and which not.
Whoever walks into the fire appears suddenly in the stream.
A head goes under on the water surface, that head pokes out of the
fire.

Most people guard against going into the fire, and so end up in it.
Those who love the water of pleasure and make it their devotion are
cheated with this reversal.
The trickery goes further.
The voice of the fire tells the truth saying, I am not fire. I am
fountainhead. Come into me and don’t mind the sparks.

If you are a friend of God, fire is your water.
You should wish to have a hundred thousand sets of mothwings, so you
could burn them away, one set a night.
The moth sees light and goes into the fire. You should see fire and
go toward the light. Fire is what of God- is world-consuming. Water,
world-protecting.

Somehow each gives the appearance of the other. To these eyes you
have now, what looks like water, burns. What looks like fire is
a great relief to be inside.”

— Rumi

I’ve noticed that I have many hooks for triggers to hang from— and those hooks are what cause big emotions. This awareness helps but I find that my being needs more reminders. More exposure…to really the it through. Once you see how thorny you are, you’ll want to see if the people that disappoint you constantly can serve as a tool to remove that hook. Same with places. If a place tests your patience, or makes you feel small, etc. What’s it showing you?

One last, and far out, note:

Disappointment presupposes there is an “I” that expects something. Examine that “I” and the expectation loses its grip.
Better yet, try to find the “I” that’s disappointed and it somehow disappears.

About a year ago, I found myself listening to John Butler, an old British-Russian man. The algorithm pushed his content to the top of my YouTube feed and so I check it out. I have to say, I fell in love with his ASMR voice. He instantly disarms me and what he speaks of is wisdom upon wisdom.

In any case. In one of his interviews he said: “the less of me, the more of God”.
I liked it, but I had many questions, such as: why would he want to be less of him? Also, isn’t the Self also part of God’s greatest creation? As well as, there’s no distinction between God and other beings so why repress who he [John Butler] is? after all… shouldn’t one also honor their identity on this planet?

My being came up with no conclusions- I avoid conclusions because what pops into my head is I see a door closing when conclusions are formulated and I believe it is crucial to leave the door open to all possibilities- and just added it to my many mental tabs. Today, I think… I understand why John Butler said it.

“The less of me, the more of God”

It’s not about repressing. Instead, it was all about making space. He arrived to a place where the “me” is not as protruding as it tends to be and letting something else, something higher, greater, and the source of John Butler, to live through him.

Slip away. Little by little. You are always protected and held by a force we understand very little about, but its existence does not fail us.

Your frustrations exists because you are seeking in people, in places, in careers, in books, in food, in mirrors, what you already carry inside you. But we refuse to believe this because that dopaminergic hit feels too good and seems to offer the way out, but it’s not.

Listen to your heart. There is nothing I can say that you don’t already know. All I can do is help remind others, but you have it all. This is something else that John Butler also says: “What can I give you that you haven’t already got?”

You have everything you’ll need. External pleasures are temporary distractions. Go within.

Close your eyes and open your heart and you’ll find it all in there.

For most of my life I lived in a beach town. In 2019 we moved to Austin, TX and now for the last 3 years we’ve been living in the suburbs of Houston. I knew I wanted to live surrounded by trees before we decided to move here, little did I know that being able to see horizons was going to be crucial for my mental health.

It began about 2 years ago when I was facing a very difficult day and I was deeply depressed. I wrote about it but the important bit is:

I was sitting down in my kitchen. Reality (and my problems) felt like they were all caving in on me, making me feel constricted, pressured, and claustrophobic. An instinct pulled my eyes toward the backyard window. As soon as I looked out, I felt my shoulders drop and my mind felt lighter. It as if looking out expanded my reality, making my problems back off a bit and even making them smaller compared to when my reality was closing in on me when I all saw was the kitchen.

[Hopefully I am explaining all of this adequately…]

This experience changed how I understand environment and perception. That moment made me realize how deeply the ability to look into the distance affects mental health. When your environment is visually confined—when everything is close, enclosed, and boxed in—it can overwhelm the nervous system because it’s distorting your perception of reality. Problems feel larger and closer than they truly are, much like the warning on a car mirror: objects in mirror are closer than they appear.

What I’ve gathered is:
Distance creates an expanded perspective. It reminds the mind that there is more beyond what is immediately in front of it.
But also, there is something uniquely hopeful about the horizon itself.

There’s plenty of research on the health benefits of living near a large body of water, like the ocean, and its therapeutic effects but there isn’t anything, at least none that I could find, on the importance of seeing horizons and how it affects mental health. Not because I needed proof, or confirmation, of what I experienced (or am experiencing) but because it feels like something so important that’s being overlooked. And if people knew this, they would probably make the necessary changes in their life to get more exposure to it.

I think about the countless others who are living in areas like mine: densely treed suburban places, with no hills and thus limited open views. Where sunsets and sunrises are rarely visible— making people feel like they’re living in a maze and driving them nuts but none of them know why they are going nuts.

Seeing a distant horizon gives the mind room to breathe by widening our perception. It basically creates psychological space, and in that space, hope emerges.

Don’t get me wrong… I love trees. The trees are not the enemy, they’re just not my medicine right now. So, there exists a possibility for relocation.

This one will have some books that I recommend depending on what it is that you’re looking for, or what stage in life you’re on. I added just a few, but if you want more, feel free to ask in the comment section.

Happy reading!

I didn’t like reading when I was little. I grew up in Mexico and reading just wasn’t pushed much at schools or at home like it is here in the US. There is a great reading culture here [US] and that’s something I truly appreciate now.

In any case. Both of my parents were readers, but my dad in particular, would tell me often to “read and study” even on my downtime as a 10 year old. I remember one summer he told me again “read and study”and many times it wasn’t a recommendation, but a demand, and one I had to face constantly.

Gathering Knowledge

Eventually, I did fall in love with gathering knowledge, but still not in the traditional way of sitting down and opening up a book to read it, no. It started with wandering on the Internet, following informational rabbit holes online. This was in my early 20s, before children, when my energy and my brain weren’t so divided. I had the time and mental bandwidth to pretty much absorb endlessly.

A few years later, two kiddos later and an overall different life. I was working an entirely commission-based job— so, sales. In this job, it wasn’t enough to just know the product/service, you had to know them, the client, you had to be able to talk about anything they were interested in—sports, politics, world events—whatever made a moment of trust appear. Because if you did not connect with them, that probably meant no income. No base salary. No cushion. Nothing…

That’s when I started picking up books. Sales books, mostly, but motivational ones too. I even went as far as to learn all about neuro-linguistic programming and took a course on that — investing in knowledge is always money well-spent.

This was a time in my life where I was quite ambitious so I also picked up other books that fit my drive at the time, books like: ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’ by Robert Kiyosaki, or ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People’ by Dale Carnegie, or ‘Think and Grow Rich’ by Napoleon Hill, ‘The Prince’ by Niccolo Machiavelli, etc… essentially, all the classics.

The more I studied about people, the more interested I became on the matter.

Then came a period where neuroscience completely took over. I stayed there for a while—years, maybe. I was fascinated by the brain. ‘Descartes’ Error’ by Antonio Damasio stayed with me because not only was it thought-provoking, but it rewired how I understood emotions and logic. That curiosity, on neuroscience, led to other books, like: ‘The Female Brain’ and ‘The Male Brain’ by Louann Brizendine, ‘The Brain and Emotional Intelligence’ by Daniel Goleman, ‘Memory and Emotion’ by James McGaugh—some widely known, others less so.

Gathering Understanding

I rode the wave of neuroscience and psychology for a while, until I bumped into the name Jordan B. Peterson in the year 2017, and he had a list of books that he personally recommended. That’s when I started to go into a bit heavier stuff, mostly related to suffering, or understanding the evil that humans are capable of inflicting on others. Examples of books I read during this time [2017 to ~2020] are: Orwell’s ‘1984’, Dostoevsky ‘s ‘Crime and Punishment’, Nietzsche’s ‘Thus Spake Zarathustra’, Peterson’s ‘Maps of Meaning’ , which I still have not finished because every line calls for deep pondering sessions. Frankl’s ‘Man’s Search For Meaning’, Tolstoy, Freud, Jung, Carl Rogers, etc… And of course, hundreds of hours listening to Peterson’s lectures to the point that I can guess with pretty good accuracy how he might respond to certain questions.

[Speaking of Jordan Peterson. His precision with language spoiled me and it also sharpened my ears and now I notice how lazy most people are with communication. Peterson’s eloquence set a new standard for me which I try to follow to the best of my humble ability, but also find that I hold others to that standard sometimes, too- and struggle to understand when thoughts are not spoken as clearly as JBP offers it. I guess it’s a good thing?]

In any case…
Moving on.

Immersing myself in human suffering—especially events like the Holocaust which for a time I became a bit obsessed over—awakened the philosopher in me and the questions multiplied, even though I do recall having existential questions since the early age of 7, more emerged at this point. Many of these questions were directed towards myself, challenging my own thoughts, emotions and beliefs, in addition to the more common questions that have to do with meaning, consciousness, existence, and if there’s a point in all of it. This, inevitably, got me curious about existentialism, nihilism, and absurdism. I read from people like Sartre and Camus; I love Camu.

Then, another shift happened, prompted mostly by my life circumstances, but also stemming from the fact that I had read plenty that eventually the books started getting too repetitive—I got the point. Anyway. Something inside me started gravitating towards spirituality. I’ve always been attracted to this so this wasn’t entirely new territory for me. Now this is where I found some of the most mind-blowing people, giants, if you will. Some of them who had walked away from prestige and security, in search of truth. Walking harsh and lonely paths but loaded with inner strength and faith.

I was returning to names I had heard before, however- their words came at a time when I was not reading [2012], but around 2022, I was. People like Terence Mckenna, Richard Alpert (aka Ram Dass), Alan Watt, Timothy Leary, Jack Kornfield, and later Sri Ramana Maharshi, Anandamayi Ma, etc. The teachings of these people was tremendously helpful for my being and led me to big realizations that will follow me for the rest of my life.

The Crux of The Matter

And this brings me to the crux of this piece: I’ve stopped reading. From time to time I do get a bit worried that I lost my interest in reading because I have this irrational fear of falling behind— but that’s just my own conditioning. I’m sure it’ won’t be permanent, at least I don’t think so since I’m only 36- but right now I’m done with theory and just want to do the living part. Paying attention, noticing people’s faces, the trees, the insects, feeling the heat or the cold, sharing the moment, not just halfway- but fully. Experiencing life through my senses instead of hunting for information.

Just a few days ago forced myself to merely listen to a philosophical lecture online conducted by a Yale professor. He presented amazing questions but then came a moment where he began saying things that were… let’s just say: incomplete. At the very least, I would’ve chosen different words than the ones he used. Anyway, this solidified my position and to listen to what my being needed right now, which was to take a breather from gathering knowledge. Especially since there’s nothing to understand.

I checked online to see if anyone else was talking about this but no, everyone is still preaching the importance of reading, and they’re not wrong. Reading is a powerful tool, and I’m cultivating that with my children, but at some point, you have to be willing to set the tool down and live.

Can’t you do both: read and live?

Yes, but I’ve read enough to understand that:

• Some of the biggest questions will never be answered, no matter how many books you read.

• What truly is the point?
  Once you’ve gathered sufficient information, you start seeing why people keep accumulating it— it could be greed, fear, the need for validation and/or recognition. Fine. Say you do that. You prove your intelligence, your intellect. Impressive. Then what? You do it again? And again? Is that all there is? A loop with no end?

• There’s also an overwhelming amount of information out there demanding so much of our time for very little return. Information that will be completely useless when you’re on your deathbed, nor will it help you sit with the one you love when they’re suffering, nor will it do much when you’ve emotionally hit rock bottom.

• We carry all the answers already inside us, but we don’t believe this is true, others don’t even have a clue this is the case. We are too busy fussing about the world to sit quietly long enough to listen. And even when we do listen, we often doubt what we hear, because it doesn’t arrive the way we expect.

• Say you had the answers, what would change? Nothing.

• If you look closely, all the learning, all the reading, all the thinking—revolves around the same questions that humanity has been circling for forever: Who are we? Why are we here? What is the point of all this?

• The paths we take to try to answer these questions are countless. Some wander into biology, some into physics, psychology, astrology. Along the way, we stumble across little golden nuggets—insights that help us survive. Useful and practical things, even if they often come with the seeds of our own misery down the road. But still…they are not the ultimate point. The question remains: what are we at our core? Why are we here? What is this life for?

• Explanations don’t end with “species” on the taxonomic hierarchy, or the atom, or string theory, or anything else we might discover or create.

I do want to clarify, just in case— this does not mean that the books I’ve read have been a waste of precious time. Not one bit. In fact, without such books- I probably would not be where I am now. But that’s my point… I’ve gathered what I needed from all the books, not just for myself but it’s information I can give to others around me if they ask or need it. Furthermore, gathering more knowledge is just not my yoga (Jnana yoga) at the moment; it’s not on my journey. There is no right or wrong way to live life, everyone is doing the yoga that’s appropriate or suitable for their being.

This concludes the introduction.

If you happen to meditate, or pray (for me, meditation is a form of prayer)— next time you do [meditate or pray], try to really pay attention to why or what you’re doing it for.

Are you doing it to merely get a temporary feel-good hit only to get up and move through the world in ways that aren’t aligned with what was just practiced? In other words, are you waking up from meditation only to go right back to sleep?

I suppose an attempt at meditation or prayer is better than nothing…

Now, most of us usually start practicing these because we want relief of some sort. But eventually you realize that the real fruit shows up after the meditation ends: in how your heart softens with other beings, how you become a bit less reactive, more forgiving, more compassionate.

You can sit and meditate for years, but if you get up and go right back to who you were before, all you’ve done is taken a brief vacation from your ego.
My point is this: meditate to reconnect to your higher self, to find peace, to remember who you really are, but then when you open your eyes again; become the meditation. Let it follow you wherever you go, whatever you’re doing, into your conversations, or how you listen to others.

The aim of meditation, or prayer, is to allow it to change us bit by bit, little by little.

Mediation shouldn’t end just because we have to open our eyes again.

In the end, whatever needs to happen will happen, but since we are all continuing to act as if this it not the case, I guess I’ll play my part too and that means, writing and sharing suggestions that probably won’t change what is already written.

Namaste

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I have a great love for learning, reading, and creating. Before I had kids, I had time to do all of those things. I have this clear memory of how I often spent my mornings in my home office, coffee beside me, and my computer screen- just eager to dig into whatever topic I wanted to learn about. No rush really.

Then came the first child. Four years later, the second. It’s been 12 years of child rearing now. It’s the greatest gift life could’ve given me. They are my world and are the biggest reason why I keep going.

These days, when they’re at school, I’m back in school myself (online). Reading a lot, writing a lot, as well as a whole lot of memorizing. I don’t have an issue with what I’m learning, the issue is the time pressure. Cramming the information due to the time limitations, and I despise rushing.

In any case. Deadlines that don’t stop. My homework, their homework, their activities, school events, school lunch boxes (plus snacks), breakfast, lunch, dinner, laundry, holidays, housework, plants, and a body that demands I move just to stay sane.

There’s really not much room left for deep thinking lately and I don’t see that coming any time soon. Following threads of thoughts as far as I can go, is something I am fond of doing. But it’s hard to do it when you keep getting interrupted. So I’ve had to pause that.
With everything I have on my plate, my mind feels full—too full. So many mental tabs open, all the time, trying to stay on top of everything. Still, there’s this pull in me to create, to write, to read the books I’ve been stacking and telling myself “I’ll get to them when things slow down”, but I’ve had to pause many of those too.

I keep asking myself: how do people do it?
Some don’t, some do the bare minimum, some get help (if that’s even an option), others stop caring— it’s called burnout. And then we have the fools, like me, who think they can do it all, excel at everything, without breaking. But we keep going because stopping feels much worse.

I think that’s where I’m standing, right at the edge. Trying to give the best of myself to everything and everyone until there’s nothing left to give. So, what happens? By the end of the day, I’m empty. Those 8 hours of sleep aren’t enough anymore to recover pieces of myself. What I need is a month, but that’s not going to happen. And even if it could, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t let myself.

What if this is how madness starts?
The tug of war between what you want, what you need, and what you have to do. You split yourself just to survive it. Different parts of you take turns steering the ship, and while you’re busy holding it together, the stress starts rewiring everything: your thoughts, your body, the chemistry of your brain. The body learns to live in fight mode. Adapting to pressure as if it were normal until you forget what normal is and if it ever existed to begin with.

You know how long it takes me to write something for Substack? 4, maybe 5 hours. Not because I don’t know what to say, but because there are voices in my head that won’t let me say it. These voices keep me second guessing everything I write or believing it’s not worth saying any of it. Some days it feels like I’m losing it.

To test this theory, I looked back at something I published on Medium (another writing platform) a couple of years ago. Not sure exactly when and didn’t bother checking either since my brain decided the date didn’t matter.
So, I read it and understood nothing. Not a damn thing…
How did I understand something so unclear and incomplete? How did others?

It was very unsettling. I began to wonder what version of me thought that such chaos was coherent? Maybe I am losing it.

Out of concern, I began to cry. Then I laughed— hard. Not because it was funny, but because the only other option was to fall apart. Sometimes the only way to stand above the pain is by laughing.

Eventually I was laughing at the absurdity of it all. At how much I cared about something so small and at how ridiculous, and absolutely comical, it was that I’d shared nonsense with the world, wasting everyone’s time, including my own. It suddenly became the best joke of the day.

And so here I am today… in front of you—in a way— sharing away my vulnerabilities to you. Hoping it makes sense. All I have is my own perception, and even though I try to see things from multiple perspectives and angles, somehow, I still manage to write things that leave people in the middle of nowhere and are incomplete.
Where does the rest go?

I know you’re busy, and so am I. So I’m just to cut straight to it.

Here are 5 things I’ve learned about men thus far in my nearly 4 decades of being alive and observing all types of men throughout my life.

Notice there’s a big difference when saying “what I’ve learned about men” versus “what I learned from men”. This post is about what I learned about men which are mostly things I’ve picked up in order to understand them better.

Let’s get to it.

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Made a mistake? Welcome to the club.

You will mess up. And when you do, guilt or shame will likely show up—if the mistake is large enough— shouting at you to make it right because the discomfort feels unbearable. Making mistakes can make people feel unworthy and even dumb.

I grew up in a home where mistakes were harshly reprimanded—my dad had no tolerance for them. On top of that, the Catholic church, with its emphasis on guilt and sin, only reinforced these patterns during my formative years (I spent five years in Catholic school). So I carried these internal judges for decades, which, to be fair… at one point in the past served to guide me but now have turned into quite the tyrannical critics. Until finally one day I asked myself: When are you going to give yourself a bit of compassion? Why are you holding yourself up to such high standards all the time?

[Of course, these were rhetorical questions to myself because I know exactly why I struggle with self-compassion and why I set high standards for myself as well as where it comes from.]

So today I decided to write a little something for anyone else who might be struggling with this issue.

Let’s begin with the basics.

What’s the deal with mistakes?

Mistakes, even if it’s falling over the same lame rock, exist to show us that we’ve drifted from where we intended our being to go. I say it like this because “mistakes” are, for the most part, a social construct. What do I mean by this? Much of what we label as a “mistake” comes from conditioning: ideas we’ve picked up about what’s acceptable or unacceptable, from our culture and/or family.

I’m sure there are certain acts that are inherently and universally wrong, and our inner moral compass alerts us to those without anyone needing to teach us, but beyond those moral absolutes, a “mistake” is mostly subjective. So, when you think you’ve made a mistake, according to your own standards, what you’re really encountering is feedback—a signal showing you that you’re not aligned with the path you want your being to follow.
This can be entirely personal, because what feels like a “mistake” to you might not even register as one to someone else.

Why do mistakes make us feel bad?

Other than the conditioning from society. It might have to do with knowing that your being’s integrity, or dignity, was compromised. That’s what makes you feel bad. You felt the corruptible aspect of your humanness. You were reminded of your faults. The good thing is: you can realign yourself.

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There’s something in the air, or in the water, in the U.S. and it’s contagious. It’s leading people into depression, anxiety, and/or stressed all the time.

Comparing my life here in the U.S. to my life in Mexico, there’s just so much suffering happening here. My mother-in-law, who’s from Poland, would probably say Americans need to experience hunger and Hitler. She’s not wrong— she says that about my kids too, in case that makes you feel better.

What is it about Mexicans that makes them seem immune to the mental pain so common here?

I was born and raised in Mexico until I was 20. [My mom’s from St. Paul, MN and met my dad (mexican) on a spring break trip down to Mexico]. I’ve been living in the U.S. since 2019. From what I’ve seen, it’s all in the mind. You tell a Mexican you’re depressed, and they’ll either find it hilarious or will look at you like a complete cry baby. For Mexicans that stuff is like it’s not even real. So you brush it off, move on, forget it. That’s it.

Here in the U.S., say the word “depressed” or “anxious” and suddenly it’s all super serious and it seems as if everyone’s got a psychiatrist on speed dial. Sure, feelings matter, but the seriousness given to depression and anxiety here is way over the top.

Think about it like a kid falling down: if you freak out, the kid freaks out. If you stay calm, the kid calms down. Same with depression and anxiety—it’s how the culture reacts that shapes the experience.

Most Mexicans live with way less—less money, less benefits, less government support—but they laugh, smile, or enjoy life, way more than I see anywhere here; and that attitude is contagious.

Mexicans are just too busy working, taking care of family, enjoying a Pacifico (a beer), or partying to sit around worrying about “depression” or “anxiety”. There are better things to focus on. Why waste your energy on something so sad? That mentality gets passed around, maybe it’s their innate enthusiasm, maybe it’s cultural resilience, maybe it’s the “a la chingada” (f*ck it) mantra, or maybe it’s all of it.

Every American I’ve met are on pills for something. No one seems to be be able to get through life without meds. I get looked at like I’m lying when I say I don’t take anything. In Mexico, we fix things by being with family and/or friends. That’s our medicine. Not perfect, but it works!

Unfortunately, the U.S. is a tough current to swim against, though... If you’re not around people who think like this, it’s hard to implement what I’m talking about. You need people who don’t give weight to depression or anxiety.

Mexican culture can give you the power to shrug off sadness and focus on what really matters. Mexicans don’t leave their country or their culture lightly—they leave because they’re searching for what depressed or anxious Americans often take for granted: better job opportunities, more stability, or some government support until they can get on their feet. Sure, “better job opportunities” usually means higher pay, but typically comes at the cost of work-life balance. Of course, everything has its pros and cons. There are also things about Mexico that drive me crazy.

Lastly, I’m going to touch on the topic of sensitivity.
Americans are…remarkably sensitive. I’ll probably prove that with this post alone and get some backlash for sure. I wonder if that sensitivity is part of why depression and anxiety are so common here. Nevertheless, it’s exhausting having to walk on eggshells all the time because people’s tolerance is so low.

Dejate de mamadas y ponte a trabajar.

I have moments where I get bombarded with synchronicities— or “meaningful coincidences” as Carl. G. Jung called them. I find myself currently in one of those chapters and I want to share the one I just experienced because it’s just plain amazing.

A few days ago, I was thinking about the fable of ‘The Wolf and the Lamb’ when I came across a variation online involving a wolf and a dove (‘The Wolf and the Dove’). I had not heard of this story before, but I learned that it was a historically popular romantic novel.

Moving on. I’m a highly visual person so the image of a wolf and a dove stuck and remained stuck since this was a combination that I had not considered before which I found both interesting and heartwarming. Fast-forward a few days… I have been listening to Lady Gaga a lot lately— I absolutely love Lady Gaga, she’s weird, naturally beautiful, creative, writes her own songs, etc. but I don’t always listen to her music, and for some reason my being wanted to listen to her songs recently. This morning, I had a zoom meeting and one of the women there mentioned, and suggested, to the rest of us to listen to a song by, guess who? Yes, Lady Gaga- titled: 1000 doves.

[So we’ve got doves and Lady Gaga.]

Now, doves are not an animal (or bird) I think about much at all. So, I just thought all of this was remarkably fascinating, to say the least. Once the zoom meeting was done, I went to YouTube to listen to this song [1000 doves] and its lyrics. I found that the lyrics could not be more fitting to where I’m at.

But wait. It gets crazier.

Right below the video, was another video displaying in big letters the following message: “Pay attention to patterns”.

…

What does this mean?
That’s where one has to listen to their intuition. I sometimes like to see what other people say the spiritual meaning of certain things are to see if it happens to coincide with what I’m feeling—really just for fun or plain curiosity, because you are ultimately the only one to decide what it means, not someone else. So I searched up spiritual meaning of doves and surely, what you’d probably expect came up: “peace”, “guidance”, “love”, “purity”, “compassion”. So maybe in my case it’s my spirit guides telling me they send me this x 1000?
I’m being playful, of course, but it could be!

Anyway.

Pay attention to patterns.

Do I believe in tarot cards?

I do. Here’s why….

The reason I believe in tarot cards has to do with my belief that nothing in life is coincidental. When certain cards appear before you, there’s a reason those specific ones are drawn. The key to understanding their message lies not only in knowledge of the cards’ primary symbolic meaning—wisdom and knowledge that’s passed down through generations of tarot readers—but also in one’s ability to connect with their intuition.

Reading tarot cards requires the same intuitive sensitivity one needs when interpreting tea leaves at the bottom of an empty cup, deciphering dreams, or even when a writer sits before a blank page and lets inspiration move through them, allowing them to find the words to express what needs to be said.

In fact, I would say that tarot cards have an advantage over other divinity tools like the I Ching or tea leaves because of their rich imagery, which I believe provides its practitioners a leg up due to their visual guidance and narrative potential. Nevertheless, performing a decently accurate reading isn’t easy—especially if you’re working with Salvador Dalí’s surreal deck, in which case I’d say: “forget it”.

Now- I consider myself intuitive and sensitive but when it comes to reading tarot cards, I struggle to quiet the analytical mind long enough to clearly hear what my intuition is trying to tell me.

Sure, it’s all so subjective…but then again, much of life is. Many things are open to personal interpretation, which interestingly, happens to naturally align with our own journey by meeting us where we are: emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. Nothing is ever really out of place.

If you ever ask for a reading, or not, it was always meant to happen. Whether the reading was precise or imperfect, whether the reader was seasoned or new, whether you believed or doubted, the encounter itself will have an effect on you. Sometimes the effects will simply brush upon your life and be barely noticeable, other times it can either shift something deep within us or at the very least, bring to the surface what’s stored in our subconscious.

What’s important to realize is that there is always an effect—a stirring in the unseen—that sets ripples in motion. Those ripples travel through places and people, sometimes returning to us, creating yet another ripple, and another after that. It becomes a never-ending cascade of cause and effect, each movement precisely aligned [as if following an unbreakable mathematical formula] with the natural course of the ripple’s path.

Given that Halloween is coming up, I figured this would be a fun topic to write about since it falls into the “obscure” box for some, or many. However, I also wanted to give a shoutout to because she offered a tarot reading session, for which I took the opportunity and was impressed by the outcome. So, thank you so much Marveye for the reading offer, the accuracy, and the time you dedicated to it! You have a wonderful gift and skill :)

My dad passed away three years ago.
I didn’t make it in time to be with him when he died. I’ll occasionally beat myself up over that—believing that maybe, if I’d gotten there sooner, I could have prevented it. But that’s not how things unfolded. If we could see the future, we’d make different choices but then we’d miss out on the painful emotions that force us to grow.

On October 17, 2022, I flew down to Mexico, to the town where he lived, that also happened to be where my siblings and I were all born and raised. Anyway. My dad always insisted on living alone, so when I arrived at his house, it was empty. He had already been taken to the morgue to be prepared for cremation the next day. None of my siblings could make the trip, though my half-sisters were also in the same town, they were with their own families. I didn’t want to stay with them, not only because we weren’t close enough for me to feel comfortable doing that but because I wanted to be in my dad’s space given that I had missed his passing. Self-punishment? Probably.

In any case, as I walked into his small and humble house, I felt the heaviness left behind by my dad in his last moments there. I remember describing it as: “It feels like there was a murder here”, there wasn’t, of course - but the grief and fear soaked the place like invisible blood splattered everywhere and I could feel this. It was brutal… so brutal…. Painful but that’s what I needed.

I moved slowly through the house, almost tiptoeing, as if I was trying to not wake someone up; my body reacted that way for some reason. I scanned every detail, trying to reconstruct what might have happened—what I had potentially missed.

I noticed a bed was placed downstairs in the living room where the sofa used to be. This, according to my dad’s neighbor, was where my dad took his last breath and that it appeared to him that his last breath was a peaceful one. My dad had always spoken well of him, and after meeting him, I understood why. He was kind, courteous, and had similar humor that my dad carried, which made him easily liked.

Then I went upstairs to his bedroom. His bed was still there, untouched. I didn’t have the courage to sleep on the bed that was in the living room, and sleeping on his actual bed upstairs was not any easier but I figured it would be a bit more manageable for me. However, since I was already in a pretty difficult spot I figured I would sleep on my dad’s side of the bed in hopes of finding connection of some sort.

It turned out to be a traumatic night. I had a terrible dream that woke me up crying and afraid at 4 in the morning. In the dream, I saw myself curled up on the floor yet falling in place. I remember crying so much in my dream that the cries echoed as if in a tunnel.

The next morning, I went downstairs to the kitchen and noticed the sweet bread my dad always loved. He introduced me to it when I was little. It wasn’t anything special, just the kind you can find in any store in Mexico, but it was his favorite. I had a piece with some of his coffee as I sat on the bed that was placed in the living room. I sat there quietly, looking toward the front door, remembering the times I’d seen him walk through it…carrying groceries, laughing, or talking.

I went back upstairs to his bedroom and with the strengths of a new day, I decided it would be helpful to cleanse the space—to bring in some light and good energy. So, I opened the curtains and windows, played this beautiful, heavenly song, and placed my phone in the center of the room while it played and I sat to meditate and visualize the pain lifting and leaving through the open windows, replaced by light and love.
Unfortunately, I can’t listen to that song anymore. I didn’t think about that at the time, but that’s ok because it served its purpose. It belongs to my dad’s old home now, like a small offering.

Here’s the song below, if you’re interested. It’s truly powerful.

Now- I don’t want to make this a sob story. Back when it happened, yes, it was heartbreaking and heavy. On top of that, I would’ve been dangerously susceptible to contracting guilt, which can be very poisonous. However, I managed to catch it quick and cut its roots. [I made a video on this that you can watch by clicking here]. Sometimes it tries to come back, but it’s not often. When it does, I remember things I’ve shared in the video I made.

What I do still carry is unprocessed pain, hence why I still can’t listen to that song from his bedroom, or other songs that remind me of my dad but life has a way of teaching us how to come out of these sorts of things. That is, of course, if we are willing and open to it.

A big one that recently came to me and was so helpful was that our bodies hold trauma, not us. I don’t think I need more than that. It’s a simple truth that carries so much weight.

Sure, we should honor what the body feels: its fear, its ache, its sorrows. That’s what the body does when it senses danger, it panics, and tries to stay alive because that’s what bodies are built for. But the rest of you? The part that isn’t bone and muscle? It knows its way out and where its going.
Maybe, when the moment of death comes, we don’t even feel pain. I have a hunch now that if we do, it’s fleeting; no longer than a breath.

The fear and grief in my dad’s house weren’t lies. They were true.He probably felt it just as intensely as I imagined, and sensed, he did. But, today I reflected on this and I see it as his bodie’s echoes attempting to hold on to life because the body loves life so much that it cries on its way out. Like the body’s natural death symphony. And this, in an interesting way, is beautiful and pure.

“Death is not the opposite of life, it is the opposite of birth. Birth and death are opposites. Life is the continuum of birth and death”.
— Deepak Chopra

When we speak, we tend to share only the vital parts of our message, but there seems to always be a hidden layer of trust, or maybe more accurately, a hidden layer of assumptions- that plays a role in the entire conversation. It’s actually quite remarkable how much can remain unsaid and still be understood. Of course, the more you know someone (their personality, values, tendencies, experiences…) the more accurately you can interpret what they’re trying to convey, and the less they need to explain.

How much we say depends on two things: the complexity of the topic and the listener. Complex subjects require more detail, obviously, but even then, much still remains unspoken. The depth of our explanations will be dictated by the listener’s capacity: their experience, their level of knowledge, etc.
What’s happening is that we’re essentially operating under the assumption that they [Do I truly need to specify or did your brain correctly assumed who I was referring to by “they”?] can keep up and can construct a fairly accurate understanding of what we’re trying to convey without having to delve into the nitty-gritty details and/or the terms and conditions surrounding our message.

I know in Don Miguel Ruiz’s -must read- The Four Agreements advises us not to assume, and I agree, but the reality is that this is something we do daily. Our brains are “wired” [for lack of a better word] to infer, to fill gaps, and to complete the overall picture. The ability to rely on these assumptions is part of what we call “common sense” or maybe it’s more of a social skill: the capacity to read the room, to read the person, and grasp the overall meaning that exists between the lines.

Now… trouble arises when the senders’ words happen to land on unprepared ears, or the wrong crowd, if you will. Their messages can get misinterpreted, twisted, or given a negative spin. It’s ok, it happens. However, this is precisely why I never rush to verbalize my opinion about what someone else said. Instead, I watch, wait, and calibrate it all a bit longer. I find this to be about common decency, respect, and maybe plain curiosity about what else might be there— these keep the misreading at bay for me. If and when you do comment, or offer your critique, do it carefully. Know the person and their words. Maybe go as far as to know what wasn’t said, which is equally important. Otherwise, you’ll be the one to look like a fool, not them. On a brighter note: the first to become a fool, is the first to become wise. If they learn.

In any case. Don’t rely so heavily on your assumptions. That’s how mistakes happen. Yes, even you, the “smart one”: your blind spots, pride, and/ or limited knowledge can distort even the clearest message. Intelligence alone doesn’t prevent error.

In a nutshell:
We shouldn’t assume, but we do.
It’s useful for the brain, but risky for people.
The closer you are to someone, the safer it is to trust your assumptions.
When in doubt? Ask.
Don’t invent meaning if you’re not sure and most definitely… don’t act on what you think they implied.
And remember: nothing shields you from error, so be humble.

A little over a decade ago, I experienced my first ego death. I was struggling with depression due to an isolation that felt unbearable, which was quite ironic since,

as an introvert, I enjoyed solitude yet it became the very thing that cracked me open. Turns out there’s a difference between choosing to be alone and being left alone.
Everything changes when it happens voluntarily or involuntarily. Involuntary isolation hits differently than voluntary isolation.

In any case…

Much like the ups and downs of depression or anxiety that many of us have faced, spiritual life also moves in its own cycles: death, rebirth, and repeat. Sometimes you won’t even notice it’s spiritual, but it is... An ongoing death and rebirth that never really ends, but eventually you get to the point where it doesn’t ruffle your feathers as much and you even begin to appreciate it.

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