If you've been following my posts, you know I'm fascinated by how we perceive reality. How is it that we can share the same physical space yet experience completely different worlds? Lately, I've been exploring the concept of "living in the mirror."

Here's how I see it: every thought, belief, and action ripples outward, shaping the reality we experience. What we project outward is reflected back to us, and the quality of that reflection depends on what we put into it. This isn't just philosophy; it's a practical way to understand how our inner and outer worlds are connected.

Through meditation, I’ve come to see life as a series of transformations, much like waves rising and falling back into the ocean. Nothing ever stays the same—everything is in a constant state of flux. But this realization brings an intriguing question: is anything truly permanent?

Over the years, I’ve gone deep into exploring the mind. I’ve asked myself the question, “Who am I?” and examined how my mind shapes my experiences. This journey has anchored me in the present, tuning into each moment as it comes. But about two years ago, life threw me a few hard hits. I struggled to quiet my mind, with thoughts that wouldn’t let go, creating this loop of suffering.

Last year, I was on Cape Breton Island, helping a monk friend clear trees that had fallen during Hurricane Fiona. I was up on a spruce tree, crisscrossed over other fallen trunks, when my friend told me he’d head back to the monastery to make lunch. I said I’d join him in 10 or 15 minutes—I wanted to finish what I’d started.

Shortly after he left, I slipped.

The other day, while updating my personal website, I read my own writing, a story I’d written years ago about a climbing expedition I went on at 19. Typically, once I write something, I don’t feel the need to revisit it—I’ve already let it go. But this time, I found myself reading about that climb up one of the world’s highest mountains, remembering the feeling of excitement and a hint of fear yet also feeling invincible, as only a 19-year-old can. That was more than 20 years ago.

The other day, I was driving to a meditation retreat when I felt a sudden sense of panic. This is something I’ve been dealing with for the past year, but especially over the last six months. It’s particularly frustrating because it seems to happen most when I’m driving, a time when I need to be focused. And yet, despite all the tools I’ve learned for staying present and calm, this sensation of panic rises in my body.

During a deep meditation, I had a profound mystical experience that changed my life. Afterwards, I searched for others who had similar experiences, I wanted to hear their stories, hoping to find words that could capture my own experience.

Do you ever feel like a fraud? Do you fear that someday, someone will call your bluff? You’re not alone. Studies show that up to 82[1] % of the population experience feelings of not being good enough no matter how much they have actually achieved. So, how do we challenge these feelings in ourselves and others? Read on.

With artificial intelligence tools becoming more popular, the question question arrises of AI’s role within the arts and whether it can truly replace musicians, writers, and illustrators. If the next radio hit, catchy jingle, or best-selling album is just a few prompts away, are we wasting our time still making music the old-fashioned way?

Two stories that have been in my conversations as of late are that of the feature article in MetalSucks "L.A. Band Threatin Faked a Fanbase To Land a European Tour No One Attended,"and Bobby Owsinski’s article "Artists Gaining Fake Spotify Plays From Unexpected Source."Two stories about less than honest approaches to trying to obtain success in music.