As individuals, what are we afraid of — probably everything? We are afraid of aging. We are afraid of having no relationships — intimate or otherwise. We are afraid of not being financially successful, and we are afraid to die. The list goes on and on. Sometimes, I am sure, we are so afraid of the entirety of existence that the whole concept becomes boring and tedious. It is at this point that we come to the realization of who is creating this fear. It is the self who creates my fear — me! 

Don’t you find the experience profound when you enter a building that is silent — a church, a mosque, a synagogue, or even a museum? This quiet summons something in the inner recesses of our being, doesn’t it? I believe that in this hushed environment lies the answers to the three fundamental questions of life: “Who am I?” “What is my mission?” and “Where will I go when I leave this mortal plane — when I die?” 

I find long-distance travel to be an extremely interesting phenomenon. When we read tales of the past, we of often shocked and yet enamored with just how long a journey used to take. When Magellan’s expedition first traversed the globe, it took an almost indescribable amount of time, from 1519 to 1522 – three years — and it cost Magellan his life and the lives of most of his crew.  

Am I an empiricist: am I faced with knowing the world only through my senses and my experiences, is nothing innate? (1) These are questions that constantly “buzz around” in my mind, juxtaposed with, Do I then have significance: will the world I create through my actions have consequences? Will I die without my mission fulfilled? (2) Fear is an emotion that seemingly comes to us far more easily than the feeling of love – though love, when experienced, is tremendously more powerful. I have contact with many, many people on a weekly basis. More than a few, because they are young, share their negative thoughts about the world at large – how dangerous and evil it is. I inquire as to where this view comes from.  

A visit to the more humble parts of any North American city reveals countless bodies of all shapes and sizes sitting or lying listlessly in the morning sun or shuffling aimlessly from one perch to another. You are left with an overwhelming sense of pain and suffering. Yes, it is true that many are mentally ill and others are addled by alcohol and drugs, but all are suffering from some form of broken spirit — some type of great distress. (1)