The other day, I was on my way to an appointment, running a little late and caught in traffic. Frustrated and restless, my mind drifted to the deeper questions I’ve been wrestling with, the big, existential ones about my life’s direction and purpose. As I sat there, lost in thought, my eyes landed on the license plate of the car in front of me: “DHARMA7.” I couldn’t help but smile. In that ordinary moment, life offered me a quiet nudge, a reminder that sometimes, the question and the answer arrive together, staring at us right in the face.

I often find myself at odds with myself, two seemingly opposing forces pulling at me, both rising from the same ground of being. I am caught in a quiet struggle, living between the current of the divine and a bewildering sense of separation from life itself. I have known, often and deeply, the compelling intimacy of connection, where there is no gap, no distance, only the hum of oneness. Yet lately, more than ever, I feel the weight of the struggle. I am not resisting it. I am allowing it to find its own shape, trusting that through this fire, something deeper will emerge, a surrender, a self more fully realized. But trust does not spare me the ache. The fire still burns. And I know the divine rises precisely from this burning, from the alchemy of pressure and change.

In the quieter spaces of my life, I sometimes sit firmly in the root of being. In those moments, I become aware that everything arises from the same source, the unknowable mystery that breathes life into all things. It is the pulse behind the stars, the silent awareness in which all forms appear and dissolve. In those rare, grace-filled moments, I am not separate. There is no me and no other. I simply witness life expressing itself, person, tree, stone, breeze. All unique, all sacred, all flowing from the same immeasurable source. The illusion of separateness, what some call Maya, falls away, and I know myself as whole, lacking nothing.

And yet, so often, I find myself submerged in the thick soup of confusion, a confusion I myself create. The ceaseless whispering of the ego spinning stories that I am not enough. I should have done better. Who is judging me? What have I failed to become? I wander through the shadowed forests of my own mind, stumbling over the dark, unhealed places that breed disconnection. In that space, trust vanishes. It is the space of the small, self-protective me, the lonely me against the world.

How do I find my way from this tangled forest back to the open field of the divine? How do I live with the apparent tension between my healed and unhealed self, especially when my mind, like a skillful lawyer, builds convincing cases for whatever story it clings to?

I return, again and again, to the quiet knowing, the divine is always here. The mystery is not elsewhere. As I begin to truly accept myself, not just the luminous, awakened parts, but also the frightened, raw, self-defending parts, I settle into something steady, something like peace. As I allow all that I have been, all that I am, and all I am yet becoming, I meet myself with a radical kind of love. There is a saying in the ManKind Project: “All of you is welcome.” And this, I am learning, is the sacred work.

Out of the 100 billion human beings who have ever walked this earth, there has only ever been, and will only ever be, one me, one you. The vastness of the genetic sea makes this life, this moment, statistically improbable. And yet, here we are. The universe does not make mistakes. However imperfect life may seem, each moment is an invitation from the divine to surrender and return to the infinite embrace of the mystery itself.

I am learning to love that life persistently offers me the precise situations that challenge me to face what still needs healing, to clear the emotional rubble that obscures my wholeness. God wants all of me, not just the polished, acceptable parts. The sacred knows my heart. I am not separate. I arise from the fathomless mystery of infinite consciousness.

The cosmos, I believe, leans toward life. It leans toward love. The arc of evolution itself seems to bend in that direction. First breath in. Last breath out. Life is held within the rhythm of this sacred exchange.

Shi Heng Yi, a Shaolin monk, reminds us: “The greatest gift has already been given to you, existence. Do not let anyone or anything take that from you.”

This is the invitation: to remember, to return, to rest in the ground of being, and to live with an open heart, even amid the burning.

The mystery is calling. Will you follow it?

Despite the circumstances I might find myself in, I strive to make inclusion, compassion, understanding, and love my first response.

Amidst the chaos and uncertainty of life, I remain open to Grace and the gift of my life.

If you have any questions, please email me at garymerel@gmail.com or call 732-208-2836. Also, please visit my website at leanintoyourlife.net