Life is a Magical Journey...

This morning, I wrote a journal entry that I want to share. Here is a refined version of my thoughts:

Animal Tracks

Last night I was up until 1 a.m. talking to a friend who took temporarily dropped out of college to go explore the entrepreneur and tech scene, but is now back on campus with fresh perspectives and wisdom. He is really nice to talk to, a great listener and contributor. We covered so much ground last night, I couldn't possibly do our conversation justice by recalling it here, but I do want to talk about some of the stuff I contributed and how much he admired it. Maybe, whenever I am reading back through my journal, it will be a good reminder of where I cam from, or maybe this train of thought will have been forgotten and this will seem all new.

But anyways, last night we were talking about drugs, and I mentioned how my experience with psychedelics is nonexistent and while I don't know what they feel like, from what my friends have described, I've had similar tamped down experiences without chemical influence, and I want to explore that more. Throughout our conversation, my friend explained that the neurons that fire when you are in a higher state get desensitized when you take drugs, and I am effectively sensitizing those neurons and making it possibly for me to achieve that state without influence. Of course, I'm still in the process of training to get better at this. But then I told him when my exploration of my spiritual energy really started, when I was 13, feeling safe nowhere, not at home, not at school, not at sports practice...constantly overstimulated and no time and place for my soul to rest. I started biking out to a nearby city park called Presque Isle, no phone, sometimes nothing but me. I could wander around the park and lie down and feel the earth when it felt right. I would follow and observe animals, I even saw an albino deer once, something so special; luckily I did catch that on camera, or I may have thought it was a figment of my imagination. But the forest gave me the support I needed, and while it was unfortunate there was no person there for me, I was given a gift of feeling safe and supported in a place that makes many fearful.

I went ever weekend I could, and if I didn't I got irritated because I wasn't getting the spiritual refill I needed, and now that I knew how good solitude feels I wanted it all the time. I laid on the ground and let the earth absorb me, the best hug I could receive. I knew Presque Isle so well, spent so much time there...she was a shoulder to cry on, to ask for advice, I really do consider her a good friend.

Then, I left for college, and there was space between me and Presque Isle. But during my time at the Porcupine Mountains in the western Upper Peninsula of Michigan I furthered my exploration of myself. I remember reading somewhere about Albert Einstein and his theories, and the idea that time is just cards consisting of every moment stacked on top of each other. This is when I started seeing the magic of the world, how, when I write in my journal, this moment in time is memorialized on paper, and on every page there is a new version of me, unique spatially and spiritually. That feels like magic. And on top of that, I recognized the power of journaling; by bringing my thoughts from my mind to the physical world, through symbols marked on paper with ink, I was pushing action. Yes, you could make all of this clinical and scientific, but why would you? I was building a world view that made it possible for me to thrive!

Mushroom in the woods

This world view was bolstered even further when I lived in Yellowstone. Last fall I really pushed myself. I learned so much from meeting new people, but also spending time alone. I made myself do things beyond my comfort zone, and had nobody to support me or stifle my doubts when I was vulnerable. This gave me a new confidence over my mind and what it's capable of. I also finally synthesized these thoughts and experiences I have been describing, and what I found on the other end blew my mind. When my Yellowstone adventure concluded, I got to see my grandma, whom I discussed my experiences and continuing struggles with. She suggested that I read the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu, and ancient book on Taoism. I read some of her passgaes and loved it so much, she bought me a copy.

Then, I went back to campus, creative energy strong from my adventures and time with my wise grandmother. For awhile, every morning during breakfast I read passages of the Tao Te Ching and recorded those that spoke to me most, and I saw my world view partially fitting into a form of pre-existing philosophy. At the same time, I started dipping my toes into traditional meditations, where I saw similarities between my time in Presque Isle but also differences. This formal meditation was about relaxation, but required some discipline to get there--sitting in the correct posture, letting distractions pass by, all to stay focused. It is more structured, and it made me realize how real mindfulness is; it's not this thing only as large as a teenage girl wandering through the woods, it's this ancient, long recognized method to produce a fertile mind. I went to this mindfulness retreat led by Buddhist monks and nuns, and they introduced me to the late Thich Nhat Hanh. I read some of his books and it helped lay my uncertainties and unknowns in an orderly fashion.

Sunset in the U.P.

That takes me to where I am now, realizing that soundness of my mind is a high priority and having a set of steps to get there. But my story excites me, and having a friend tell me they've never met someone who thinks the way that I think in a positive way is relieving. This part of me is so important, and I'm working on articulating that to others, but to find people that can hear what I say and understand is a blessing, an affirmation that what I'm doing make sense, that my mind has promise. And that makes me feel like a crystal refracting the white of life into beautiful colors that I amplify with with my creative power.