In my mid-20s, I was on a relentless hunt for spiritual clarity. I dabbled in some occult practices — spiritualism — seeking knowledge through psychics and experimenting with psychedelics. I was a “spiritual gangster” long before it became a popular clothing brand. I didn’t know what could satisfy this longing inside me. I was open to most things, and at first, it all felt like a big party—until it wasn’t. The more I chased these things, the emptier I felt.
I didn’t know who I was outside of my interests or profession. I kept myself busy, moving from one thing to the next, but nothing brought any real significance. I had a lot of unanswered questions, and there was this insatiable hunger driving me from within.
As anxiety set in, I eventually became like an egg that cracked open—and we know how the story goes: Humpty Dumpty could not be put back together again!
Read the full article here: Issue 44