Every now and then, I have these moments of sheer joy, clarity. A sense that I am perfect the way I am and completely fine. That I am on a good path in the universe, and that while I make a valuable impact on the world, it can go on just fine without me. In this tiny bit of time, I am not my body or even my mind or my emotions. I am one and the same with everyone and everything in time and space and even beyond. My reality is only as certain and solid as I make it, and my perception of the world can be altered with new knowledge and intuition. I am not the center of the world, and I can take solace in that, seeing as that world revolves around the sun, and the sun is just following suit of a black hole, and that black hole is one of thousands, millions, that could be connected by wormholes all across the vastness of space, which is pulling itself apart at rapid speeds. Nothing is the center of anything, and I am here for a few years to experience as much as I can. And I may not be a physicist or a doctor or a teacher, but I meet new people every day and have the ability to make them more confident with themselves. And while doctors are necessary for modern medicine, even they feel insignificant compared to, I dunno, the concept of dark matter. And for a split second, I get it. And I don't get it. And it's beautiful.
I've been having these moments more often lately. And sober, which is crazy, because honestly, this is shit that usually takes some psychadelic and mind-altering chemicals for me to achieve.
It could be that I have been more conscious of my thoughts and responses to situations. It could be that I've been meditating. I've been exercising on my terms, doing things that make me happy. It could be that I have been reading up on the multiverse and string theory, atstro- and quantum physics. I am putting pieces of my scientific brain with that creative and hippie part of my brain, and they are starting to line up surprisingly well. I am trying to take all of this with a grain of salt and trying to make sure to laugh at it. I think of all of this, and then I also remember that mental illness runs in my family, so this could also be a manic episode or the beginning stages of schizophrenia (which my great grandmother suffered from).
And in the end, are those two things really that far apart?
And as long as I'm being a happy, useful humanitarian... does it really matter?
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