Mindfulness
fromPsychology Today
16 hours agoWhen Life Stops: But Only for You
Illness disrupts not only physiology but also our entire sense of existence and future, leading to a profound confrontation with uncertainty and mortality.
The money was supposed to feel like something. You work your whole life thinking about the payoff. The day you can finally relax. The moment you don't have to worry about making payroll or whether that big invoice will come through.
Burnout is not a temporary affliction; it's the millennial condition. It's like we just churn out tired, exhausted souls like a widget factory. I don't know if you feel this at all yet in your body or in your bones. If you don't, it's because you're still young and you haven't been in the city very long. But you will. Trust me, you will.
Rumi argues that to love is to enter the unknown: to love is to empty the self of all self-knowledge entirely. He believes that emptiness is a paradoxical state of infinite fullness, allowing for the purest form of love and union with the divine.
Devon Hase states, 'People are trying desperately to fix, optimize, or escape their way out of relationship difficulty - and suffering more for the effort. Social media has made this worse! We're surrounded by images of perfect partnerships while quietly drowning in our own ordinary struggles.' This highlights the pressure couples feel in the age of social media.
We are living through one of the most disorienting periods in recorded history. The AI race is accelerating toward ever faster, ever more sophisticated automation and optimization. Agentic AI systems are moving from research labs into workplaces, healthcare, and governance. Geopolitical tensions are restructuring alliances faster than institutions can adapt. And planetary systems are signaling, with increasing urgency, that our current trajectory is unsustainable. Amid all this, it is dangerously easy to lose sight of a foundational question: What are we actually optimizing for?
Part of the answer lies in the visceral nature of the game. Unlike chess, football is physical to the point of absurdity. Grown adults in body armor crash into each other over what is essentially a leather egg. There's drama in every play. You don't need a PhD in physics to appreciate a one-handed catch while somersaulting over a defender like a caffeinated acrobat.
But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousness are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. It was bracing language for an 8-year-old. Not only was I unclean, but even my best attempt at goodness was filthy.
Psychology researcher and professor Lisa Miller in her book The Spiritual Child explains that spirituality often increases in adolescence. The teenage brain has a larger gap between experiencing and interpreting than in adulthood. As a result, adolescents' feelings are strong, dramatic and oscillate more wildly than the playground swing you so recently used to push them on.
They look nervously at the cameras. The prize, they are told, is beyond description, but "it is what everyone wants!" The first question is asked: "Who are you?" The fastest contestant with the buzzer rings in - "Michelle!" they cry out confidently. BUZZ - the sound for the wrong answer rings out loudly. Another contestant seizes the moment and squeezes their buzzer. "A Man!" he states with utmost confidence. BUZZ - wrong again.
The monks are part of a 2,300-mile pilgrimage for peace from a Buddhist temple in Fort Worth, Texas, across nine states to Washington DC. Dressed in vibrant orange robes, they have walked about 20 miles daily, eating one meal a day and practicing loving-kindness a form of mindfulness that can be thought of as a form of non-violent resistance. Their journey is a slow-moving meditation meant to embody peace, rather than argue for it.
For years, I'd used these journals as a kind of inner courtroom, constantly building a case against myself or others. Every page held evidence of failures, proof of my profoundly advanced ability to gaslight myself. I could shrink or morph into whatever was requested for another person's comfort. Small flowered booklets documenting all the ways I couldn't get "it" right.
"When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be." ~Lao Tzu For many years, I was deeply involved in spiritual communities-satsangs, meditation centers, ashrams, and groups focused on positivity, service, and personal growth. These places gave me comfort, community, and a sense of purpose. But they also shaped something inside me that I didn't fully recognize until much later: I had built my self-worth around being a "good person."