For anyone who is, or has been, moving through an existential crisis.
Sometimes, as we look more closely at ourselves, we begin to wonder about the deeper layers of being human. We look past our roles, past our stories, and arrive somewhere quieter: at energy, and at what that energy carries.
And the questions come:
Am I my thoughts? My experiences? Everything I have lived? Something more?
What is my purpose?
Why do I feel I don’t belong?
If you find yourself here, you’re meeting your existence at a deep level. That is profound. It can also be disorienting, and it can take so much energy that everyday life becomes hard to manage. If that’s where you are, you’re not alone, and nothing is wrong with you for being here.
Many layers, one body
In these moments, we may move through many shifts: in how we perceive, in our states of consciousness, in the layers of meaning and sensing we can reach, and in things we may not yet have words for.
It isn’t about how many of these places we come to know. What matters is that wherever we find ourselves, we can still honor who we are.
As we move through these layers, shared reality can start to feel far away. With others, we still share a common time and place, a name, events and circumstances. That shared ground is true. But it may hold only part of what we’re experiencing, and others may assume it’s the whole. That gap can feel lonely.
Through it all, we stay tethered to our bodies. We always return to them and to how we take part in this human life. The body is home base.
It can help to imagine a tree. Above the ground stands who we are. Below the surface, the roots hold who we are in relation with: the people we love, our ancestors, our communities and the land beneath us. When the big questions move through like wind, the roots keep us steady.
Some feel that time itself may be less a straight line than the paths that connect us, a way of tracing where we stand in relation to everything else. You don’t need to understand it all to stay connected to it.
Where to begin
There’s no right place to start. You might begin with whichever of these feels kindest to you right now.
Letting a question breathe
Choose one question that has been calling to you. Instead of trying to answer it, you might simply sit with it, the way you’d sit beside a friend. Notice what stirs in your body, and what thoughts or images come. You don’t need an answer. Being with the question is already a way of listening.
Returning to your roots
When everything feels too vast, you might come back to the ground.
Above the surface: Notice your body right now. Your feet, your breath, the weight of you resting where you are.
Below the surface: Bring to mind one connection that holds you, such as a person, a place, an ancestor, a tree or a memory. Let yourself feel held by it, even for a moment.
Setting it down
Witnessing at this depth can be heavy. It’s okay to put it down for a while: to rest, to do something ordinary, to let the questions wait. They’ll be there when you return, and you can return with ease.
What we can hold
When so much is in motion, it can help to gently notice what is within our reach and what isn’t. This doesn’t have to be all or nothing, and it doesn’t have to follow anyone else’s rules. There may be small things you can tend today, even while the larger questions remain open.
You might also explore what in life makes you want to live, not just to survive, but to tend to life’s harmony. What that is belongs to you to discover. For one person, it may be music or the land. For another, it may be people, creating, or quiet.
As we explore, we carry two kinds of care. One is respect for what is ours and what belongs to others. The other is learning to discern between the layers of reality we move through, so we can keep ourselves, and what we hold dear, safe.
If it becomes hard to tell what’s real, or to care for yourself day to day, please reach out for support. Asking for help is a way of honoring yourself.
Belonging to existence
Feeling that we don’t belong can be one of the loneliest experiences there is. Yet even the question carries a longing to belong, and that longing is itself a thread of connection.
The big questions may never be fully answered. Still, as we learn to wonder with our roots in the ground, they can become less frightening and more alive, an invitation into a deeper relationship with our own existence.
You don’t have to hold these questions alone. If you’d like company along the way, I’m here.
Still on the way
Sometimes we rest at the dead end for a while. Sometimes new paths appear. Either way, we’re still on our way.
As we explore, we carry care for others with us too. Each of us has the right to live our dreams and to be who we are, and that right meets its edge where someone else’s begins. Our bodies and our choices are ours, and so are theirs. Some walls are other people’s boundaries, and honoring them is part of honoring ourselves.
For those who feel connected to the soul, there’s a sense that some dreams may be older than this life, something we’re remembering. There are no promises in this, and how or when anything unfolds is a mystery. Still, we can stay connected to it. As we do, we learn to balance what we can hold now with what we’re still growing the capacity to hold.
You don’t have to walk through strong shifts alone. If you’d like company along the way, I’m here.
This toolkit offers practices for reflection and is not a substitute for therapy or crisis care. If you are in crisis, call or text 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline) or call 911.
