Today's MOZEN: Soul Searcher

Frank LoBuono

Soul Searching. . . 
I think that, from time to time, it's a practice we are all familiar with. In moments of extreme stress, brought on by any number of life's challenges, most of us look deeply within ourselves to find the answers we are often so desperate to know. Some turn to religion, others to philosophy. Whatever the path, we believe true resolution can only be found through deep introspection.

Then there a those who are about as deep as a drop of sweat - however, that's a story for another day.

Still, others, like me, take the concept of deep thinking to a whole other level.

I am constantly searching for the solutions to not only life's most pressing problems, but often for the most simple ones, too. And, I have always been that way. I want to understand why things happen, and not only in the physical sense but in an emotional way, too. I want to know what motivates people to do what they do. Why are some people so kind and others so cruel? What makes one person generous to a fault while another is so selfish they don't even realize just how cruel they are? Why are some people "rewarded" with good health, fame and fortune whilst others suffer in poverty and obscurity? But, it doesn't have to be just BIG things to think deeply about. Some are downright trivial. I will go so far as to obsess on why people insist on driving so slowly in the left lane. There MUST be a reason for their folly. And, I need to know WHY.

As a young man in college, I read Aldous Huxley's "The Doors of Perception" (1954) and it had a profound effect on me. In the essay, Huxley makes the case for an alternative reality that exists deep within our subconscious. He believed that many answers to life's most enduring questions lie within this realm. Although he also felt that meditation and prayer helped on the path to enlightenment, Huxley also felt that to get past the barriers of the ego, drugs might provide the missing ingredient on his quest to seek a higher knowledge. So, he experimented with hallucinogenic drugs - not simply to get high but, rather, to break through normal perception and into a completely different realm of understanding. The 60's rock group, The Doors, took their name and general music philosophy from Huxley's work (remember "Break on Through").

So, with that in mind, I set out to experience as much as I could without fear or reservation. And, I aligned myself with others who felt the same way. Everything that I could do under the umbrella of experimentation, I was interested in trying.  That including reading, writing, traveling, and, yes, drugs. I opened my eyes and my mind to the idea that anything I could learn from was fair game to try. And, I did. Let's face it, I'm no fucking choir boy! But, I believe it fair to say that I never did anything in a nefarious way. Yes, I possibly did harm to myself in doing so, but I always made a conscious effort not to be a disservice to others.

I make no apologies or excuses for my behavior, save one: feeling for the people I've hurt during my journey. Yes, my actions may not have had malice in their intention but they wounded others none-the-less. I suppose that when you live a free life, driven by experience, inflicting some type of pain on yourself or others is inevitable. However, that provides little consolation to me. The whole idea in the pursuit of enlightenment is to do so WITHOUT harming others. And, in a bit of irony, the more I THINK about it, the worse I FEEL. Perhaps, the tears I shed at the very thought of my behavior will provide some comfort to those I have wronged.

I suppose the bottom line is this: as I age, I get slower and more grumpy. My experience at all costs attitude is much more subdued. And, I keep trying to accept more and criticize less. However, I'm afraid that the proportion of each is actually reversed! Still, I will never stop Soul Searching. Part of that quest is discovering who I am. And, I am seeker - not just of knowledge, but of wisdom. I'm just now learning how not to be consumed by the search . . .