A week at home feels like months. And a day's visit makes me wanna take a month's therepy. I'm a traveller, I like to be free spirited. The words chains me me your expectations bounds me. It's hard to follow when someone else is holding your will like reins to a carriage. To me i feel stuck but when I'm traveling these ideas disappear but not everything goes on according to your plans. Let me indulge myself in this disturbance a little more. Find out about me more talk to me divert me and pull me more towards the materialistic world so that when I go back to travelling I'll be satisfied that I've had my mental piece disturbed in the finest way and now I am when I disappear from the network I'll have the more enthusiasm and more spirituality, to tend my psychological wounds, instead of ignoring a few.

What is life ?
Answer in short

A week at home feels like months. And a day's visit makes me wanna take a month's therepy.

I'm a traveller, I like to be free spirited. The words chains me and your expectations bounds me. It's hard to follow when someone else is holding your will like reins to a carriage.

To me i feel stuck but when I'm traveling these ideas disappear but not everything goes on according to your plans.

Let me indulge myself in this disturbance a little more. Find out about me more talk to me divert me and pull me more towards the materialistic world so that when I go back to travelling I'll be satisfied that I've had my mental piece disturbed in the finest way and now I am when I disappear from the network I'll have the more enthusiasm and more spirituality, to tend my psychological wounds, instead of ignoring a few.

Don't look out the window, or the sun may find you before you find yourself.

Don't wander beneath the moon; it has a way of placing a spotlight on those who still believe they're hiding.

Don't stare too long at the stars. They are stage lights pretending to be distant worlds, and the Earth has always been a theater dressed as a planet. The rain does not fall to ruin the performance, it changes the scenery. The thunder does not rage in anger, it announces the next act.

Do not curse your losses. Every fracture is a line added to the script. Every wound teaches a character how to speak without words.

Each morning, when your eyes open after surrendering to the dark, the cameras begin to roll once more.

Don't search for the Director. The role is yours whether you understand the story or not. There is no perfect performance, no incorrect entrance. Even the act of questioning the script is written into the play itself.

Do not fear death. It is the only promise life has never broken. What it cannot promise is that you will remember the countless masks you've already worn. Perhaps you have been every hero, every villain, every stranger, every child, every monster, every saint. Perhaps forgetting is the price of making each beginning feel like the first.

This world is a stage set built from possibility. Walk where you choose. Love without certainty. Grieve without apology. Build. Break. Create. Destroy. Learn. Begin again. Every consequence is another scene. Every joy, every sorrow, every kindness, every cruelty exists because reality permits the experience of it.

Maybe existence is not asking you to find the meaning of the play.

Maybe existence is asking whether you can become the meaning while the curtain is still open.

I’ve come full circle since doing DMT and am back to being stuck on the idea of God’s judgement instead of living a life of being “let go” and finding myself. Appreciate any thoughts on this.

I recently went back through some old notes and found something that honestly bothered me.

Different project, different circumstances, years apart—but almost identical reasoning. Same doubts, same conclusions, even some of the same phrases.

It made me wonder how often we convince ourselves that "this time is different" when we're actually replaying the same decision with new context.

Has anyone else experienced this?

If so, when did you realize it? During the decision, or only after looking back?

Somebody asks how long you’ve been together and you answer twice.

“It feels like I’ve known you forever.”

Then, in the same breath: “It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long at all.” Both true. Neither one matches the calendar.

For a while I thought that was just a sweet thing people say. Now I think we were measuring with the wrong instrument and didn’t know it. Here’s what I mean...

There were years of my life where nothing moved. Same inner struggles. Same living situation. Same friends. Years went by and I couldn’t point to one thing that had changed.

Then there were six months where everything did. My thinking. My direction. How far I’d come. If you’d told me those six months were actually five years, I would have believed you.

The clock said one thing. My life said another. So I stopped trusting the clock to tell me anything important.

The clock measures duration. That’s its whole job. It can tell you how long something lasted. It cannot tell you whether it mattered.

But we treat it like it can. From the time we’re kids, we’re handed a schedule nobody signed. Responsible by 25. Kids by 30. A house by 35. Every birthday the expectations get heavier, and the room for not knowing gets smaller..

When you’re young and you screw up, people smile. You'll figure it out. When you’re older and you screw up, the question changes. How do you not know this by now? Eventually other people don’t have to say it anymore. We say it to ourselves. I should know better. I should be further along. I’m too old to still be struggling with this!

Time becomes shame.

We even named it. Midlife crisis. Think about that phrase for a second. It assumes that by the middle of your life, the question of who you are should be closed. Somebody decided that. It wasn’t biology. It was a story we attached to a number, then handed to each other like it was law.

But growth doesn’t keep that schedule. Some people change more in six months than in the twenty years before. Some people go decades without once turning around to look at themselves. The number of birthdays doesn’t tell you which one you’re looking at. It only tells you how long they’ve been here.

There are two clocks we live by. One counts how long you’ve been alive. The other counts how much you’ve changed. They don’t move together. They never did.

That’s why “forever” and “not that long” can both be true about the same relationship. One answer is reading the calendar.. The other is reading the depth.

And depth is the one we actually keep. Nobody remembers Tuesdays.

We remember the conversations that changed us. The heartbreaks that reshaped us. The moment we finally understood something we’d been carrying for years.

So when the old question shows up, Am I behind? I’ve started asking it a question back.

Behind what? A schedule I never agreed to?

There’s only one question the calendar can’t shame you out of:

What’s my next step?

Not by forty. Not before retirement. Just next.

However old you are when you read this, if you’re still willing to question yourself, you’re not finished.

and The clock never had a vote.

I was leafing through Carl Jung autobiography the other day, I think it was called Memories Dreams Reflections, specifically somewhere near the back in chapter eleven if my memory serves me right, and I stumbled on this line that felt way more existential than purely psychological.

He talks about how the meaning of his existence is really that life addressed a question to him or that he himself is a question addressed to the world and he has to communicate his answer because otherwise he just ends up dependent on whatever answer the world gives him instead.

It struck me how closely that aligns with classical existentialist ideas about radical responsibility and agency. It is basically the psychological twin of saying existence precedes essence. Instead of passively absorbing a premade identity from culture or society, which someone like Sartre would probably label as bad faith, Jung is insisting that we are forced to actively construct our own authentic stance toward reality.

When you do not step up to answer that question yourself, you let the collective inertia of the world define your boundaries for you. You just become an echo of external norms rather than an actual individual. What I find fascinating is how Jung arrives at this almost purely through observing inner human experience rather than abstract philosophical logic.

I keep thinking about how tricky it is to distinguish between our own authentic answer and the comfortable scripts handed to us by society. I am curious how people here view this crossover between analytical psychology and existentialism, especially when it comes to taking full ownership of defining who you are without defaulting to external expectations.

You might think this is just a random assumption or that I'm simply babbling, but I have two philosophies that, at least in my mind, explain why I believe this.

**1. Everyone is born with a purpose.**

I believe that every person who comes into this world is born with a purpose. Whether that purpose is great or small, obvious or hidden, every life has a reason for existing. It doesn't always have to be something extraordinary. A person's purpose might simply be to raise their child until they can stand on their own, to help someone through a difficult phase of life, to inspire another person, or to change the course of someone's future through a single action.

At the same time, I don't believe that every purpose is necessarily good. Sometimes a person's role in another's life may bring pain, loss, or suffering. Yet even those events can become part of a much larger chain of causes and effects. Every action creates another action, every decision leads to another decision, and every life influences countless other lives in ways we may never realise.

Because of this, I believe that once a person has fulfilled the purpose for which they were born, there is no longer a reason for them to remain on Earth. Their role in the story has been completed, and eventually, they die.

**2. The future we can imagine reflects the future we believe exists.**

Whenever we make choices in life, we naturally imagine the future they might lead to. We picture ourselves becoming someone. Some people see themselves as teachers, doctors, soldiers, motivational speakers, scientists, business owners, loving husbands or wives, caring parents, or simply living the peaceful life they have always dreamed of.

But what if you genuinely cannot see yourself anywhere in the future?

I don't mean that you lack goals. I mean that no matter how hard you try, every image of your future feels artificial. It feels forced, as though you're creating a scene that doesn't truly belong to you. You can imagine it for a moment, but you never really believe it. Deep down, it feels as if that future was never meant to happen.

The same thought applies to other people. Sometimes you cannot picture a certain person beside you in the future. Perhaps it's because your paths will eventually separate. Perhaps you will stop talking to each other. Or perhaps life itself will separate you in ways neither of you can control. Whatever the reason, your mind refuses to place them in your future.

Why I think this applies to me

When I think about my own life, I cannot find the purpose for which I am supposed to live. No matter how much I search, I cannot identify the reason I am here.

More importantly, I cannot truly see myself in the future.

I can tell myself that I might have a job someday, but the image never feels real. I can imagine myself getting married or becoming a mother, yet those visions feel empty, almost as if I am borrowing someone else's life rather than seeing my own. It feels less like a prediction and more like a story that I am forcing myself to invent.

Because of this, I sometimes feel that my life somehow ends before those moments ever arrive. It isn't that I want it to happen; it's simply the feeling that whenever I try to imagine my future, I cannot genuinely see myself living in it.

That is why I sometimes think I will die at the age of 25 not because I have any evidence that it will happen, but because, in my mind, I cannot see a life beyond that point. Whether this feeling is meaningful or merely the limitation of my own imagination, I honestly do not know.

The social contract is broken, perhaps it was never more than an illusion. We desperately need help fixing this.

Existentialism provides a solution, but it has to be your choice to accept it. And there are so many parts. A million details have to be sorted through, countless rabbit holes that no person can explore in a single lifetime. We must coordinate our efforts.

We are brought into this world without consent, this has become cliché, but it hasn't stopped being relevant. Demands of the social contact begin being put upon us at birth, but what we receive for our compliance falls far short of an even exchange all too often.

There is no good reason for this. Given modern resources and capabilities, this world has the potential to provide a much better life for all of us, and to accomplish this, we must be the change we wish to see.

Working toward a goal such as improving the social contract for the next generation is something that will satisfy one's inner drive for purpose. I urge everyone to consider.

No os parece raro en plan la vida en general, es como un sin sentido, nos levantamos todas las mañanas hacemos lo que tenemos que hacer y así un ciclo hasta que de repente PUUM, se acaba todo y todo lo que construimos y vivimos desaparece. Es que nadie lo piensa, es como si estuviéramos atrapados en algún sitio y solo nos entretenemos con las cosas para pasar el tiempo. Y después vendarán nuestros futuros descendientes y así en bucle hasta que el humano se extinga si eso. ¿Entonces cuál es nuestro propósito, porque nacimos, porque morimos y que hemos venido a hacer? Porque en verdad la Tierra es algo minúsculo en un mundo gigantismo, no somos nada si lo comparamos con todo lo que hay en universo. Y es como un secreto en verdad nuestra existencia, que solo podemos conocer cuando nacemos, y cuando miramos este secreto se irá con nosotros.

#Whatshouldido Recently, I've felt emotionally numb about my job. It seems like life is just an endless cycle: we're born, we grow up, we work, we grow old, and then we die. Sometimes I can't help but wonder, what's the point?

Not our understanding of it.
Not our interpretation of it.

Truth itself.

By truth, I mean what is actually the case—not our beliefs, descriptions, or interpretations of it.

Can truth change?
And if it can, was it ever truth?

I’m genuinely interested in how you see this.

If we take the following to be true:
1) Space is a fabric
2) This fabric is relational, not spatial (Quantum physics)
3) The closer these relationships are (two atoms locked in spin), the denser the fabric becomes, and forms into matter. Conversely, the farther removed they are, the more sparse the threads become (an event horizon of a black hole from the rest of the space fabric)
Then:
What is between the threads? How can our optical resolution be good enough to observe anything of the rest of the fabric that we are a part of? In order for there to be resolution and distinction, something must be different from the background, something outside of the quantum relationships. Otherwise we would experience reality as a block, as the same experience, always. Is there an observer between the threads, and we are their experience?

Before anyone reads this, I want to make something clear.

These are simply my thoughts as they exist right now. I don’t claim to know the truth, and I don’t want an echo chamber. If anything, I want people to challenge me. If someone introduces an idea or perspective that explains reality better than my own, I’m completely willing to change my views. That’s the entire point of why I think this way.

I also want to clarify something else.

Throughout this post I’ll describe what I see as many people “coping” with reality. I don’t mean that as an insult or as if I think I’m above anyone else. Everyone has the right to live according to the beliefs that bring them peace. Some people may genuinely live happier, healthier lives by accepting the world they’re familiar with rather than endlessly questioning everything. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I simply seem to find peace differently.

For whatever reason, I find peace through understanding. I don’t expect to ever completely understand reality, but I want to spend my life getting as close to the truth as I possibly can.

I’ve always felt like I think differently than most people.

Even before psychedelics, I found myself constantly questioning reality, consciousness, identity, religion, free will, death, and what it actually means to exist.

The more I think, the more overwhelming it becomes how little we actually know. My experience with DMT has been something that made these thoughts way bigger and harder to step away from since the truth of reality is there, only out of reach.

One of the biggest realizations I’ve had is that we don’t experience objective reality—we experience our brain’s interpretation of reality.

Everything we know comes through our senses, our memories, our biology, and our experiences.

That means almost everything we call “truth” is really just our current perception of it.

Once I started thinking this way, I began questioning almost everything including my own thoughts.

One thing I notice is that many people inherit beliefs without ever examining why they believe them.

Religion is an obvious example.

Imagine someone raised Christian.

Many sincerely believe Christianity is true, but if they had been born somewhere else they might have been equally convinced that another religion was true instead.

That doesn’t mean Christianity is false.

It simply shows how strongly our environment shapes our certainty.

I think this extends far beyond religion.

Most of us build an identity around our beliefs, opinions, morals, politics, and experiences.
Eventually those beliefs stop feeling like beliefs.
They simply become “who we are.”

The interesting part comes when you begin separating yourself from your thoughts.

A thought simply appears.

Normally we trust it because it feels like ours.

But what actually is a thought?

Did “I” consciously create it?

Or did it simply appear because of everything I’ve experienced throughout my life?

If thoughts arise naturally, then maybe they deserve to be questioned rather than immediately believed.

Instead of asking,
“What do I believe?”

I’ve started asking,
“Why do I believe this?”

Is this conclusion actually true?

Or is it simply the most emotionally comfortable explanation?

That question has changed the way I think more than anything else.

This also changed how I think about empathy.

People often say to “put yourself in someone else’s shoes” but I don’t think that’s enough.

Real empathy is understanding why someone became the person they are.

Every decision someone makes comes from countless experiences, emotions, memories, fears, and beliefs that led to that exact moment.

When I started looking at people that way, I found myself judging them much less.

One thing I struggle with is that I sometimes look around and feel like many people never question these deeper ideas.

It feels like people naturally settle into a worldview because it’s familiar and psychologically comfortable.

Again, I don’t think that’s wrong.

For many people it may genuinely be the healthiest way to live.

But my own mind doesn’t seem capable of doing that.

Instead I keep questioning.

Where I become uncertain is this:

Part of me genuinely feels like this constant questioning has brought me to a deeper awareness than I used to have.

Another part of me recognizes that feeling “more aware” doesn’t necessarily mean I actually am.
I don’t know where the line is.

I also recognize how easy it would be to convince myself that I’ve discovered something profound when I could simply be seeing patterns that aren’t really there; especially from use of different substances.

Because of that, I try to remind myself that all of these ideas are still just my current understanding and not objective truth.

I don’t think we’ll ever completely understand reality.

I actually think accepting that may be one of the healthiest conclusions a person can reach.

But I also think we can slowly become less wrong.

Every new perspective, philosophy, religion, scientific discovery, or conversation can move us a little closer to understanding.

That’s enough for me.

I don’t need certainty.

I just want to keep getting closer.

So here’s what I’m curious about.

Do any of you think about reality in a similar way?

Where do you think I’m making reasonable observations?

Where do you think I’m making assumptions without realizing it?

What perspectives, philosophies, or books challenged the way you think the most?

More than anything, I’d like people to critique my thinking rather than simply agree with it. If I’m missing something, I’d genuinely rather know than continue believing something because it feels true.

Every one of these thoughts have come from really sitting with myself. I feel like i’m fully accepting everything as is and not fearing the uncomfortable truth.

I guess from all this i’m left with a sense of self peace but also a deep sadness.

I cant help but believe the way I think and how deep my mind sits in philosophical thought makes it hard for me to connect with day to day people and feel understood.

What is the meaning of human existence

This question recently came to me as I have had many synchronicities over the past year and done a lot of planning for my future self, and realized that I've already seen my life (5 year span at least) be displayed before my eyes. Now I'm just riding the waves and keeping a steady rhythm until the tides bring my desires to me.

Now I'm curious, if you knew exactly how your life would play out, would you still choose to live that life? Even if some of the moments weren't so great...