We Weren't Meant to Just Chase Happiness

I have always felt things in a deeper way. I experience life viscerally. I experienced God before I even knew it was God — at a very young age. And death also surrounded me early: I was born a couple of weeks before my grandmother died, and I lost my dad just as my son was being born.

I don't think we can be fully living without experiencing the depth of our emotions. This is something I keep learning and mastering. I start with my own.

Life was never meant to be just about happiness and the pursuit of it. That feels too shallow to me. In the darkest moment of my life — when I contemplated suicide — it wasn't happiness that pulled me out. In the moment I was deciding whether I wanted to live, it was a sense that there was something more to life that I didn't understand yet. That there was more to see, discover, experience. And that I wasn't alone. God, Light, Spirit, Universe — whatever it was, I felt it. There was always a spark of light pulling me out of the dark limbo. Like someone or something whispering, come, I'm here with you.

My partner Yan once asked me, how do you know it's not the devil you're talking to? I told her, you can feel it. I have never been told to do anything that would hurt another human. I was just being told there is something more out there. It wasn't trying to convince me. It was reassuring me. Telling me a truth I'd been searching for my whole life. I remember being four or five years old, already thinking there was something wrong with the world — that was me, already on the quest for truth. I'm still on it.

The Part of Us We Never Learned to Use

Here's what I've learned so far. We've evolved in a strange, unbalanced way. Our brains have developed enormously. Our emotional brain has stayed infantile. We walk around playing roles in our nice costumes, but underneath, we're children who never learned how to deal with emotions — except to suppress them.

If there's one thing I want to help people with, it's that.

I'm starting with myself. I'm baring my emotions. I was crying on the balcony while writing the version of this that became a letter to my community. I'm learning to get comfortable with feeling. Learning to live in the discomfort of it.

A friend who reads my writing recently told me she was a little concerned — said I'd been "too emotional" lately. But this is what being human looks like. I get emotional in my posts. In our podcast. In our online gatherings. In my writing. And it's been a gift — being able to feel, and without shame, admit that I am NOT okay. Most of us walk around like we're fine. Most of us aren't. We just don't feel safe enough to show it.

Being Emotional Is Not the Weakness

When I'm emotional and vulnerable is when I'm most honest — with myself. Every time I let it show, it's a relief. I don't have to "have it together." Being emotional isn't my weakness. It's my greatest strength. It's my quiet revolution against my trauma, my cultural conditioning, and the critic in my head that keeps saying I'm not good enough.

Well, I am. And that voice gets fainter every year.

Being "good enough" doesn't arrive after you achieve something. In my experience, it starts the moment you say you're good enough and actually work toward believing it in your core. That gap — between saying it and believing it — can be wide. But it can get smaller.

Knowledge Isn't the Missing Piece

We don't close that gap by studying more. We already know a lot. We have more information at our fingertips than any generation before us. But here's what AI, or Google, or another book, cannot do for us: make us move.

The gap between our brain and our body is so small, and yet most of us live entirely in our heads. We need to move. We need to scream. We need to feel.

Whether it's in one-on-one sessions or group work, this is what I try to bring into my practice. We need more than knowledge. We need to stop knowing, stop consuming, and start creating with our hands — holding each other's hands, collaborating. Not for revenue, not to monetize. Just to live and actually see life for a moment. It's not about adding more to do. It's about doing less, and letting the soul move through us more.

What Would You Do Without an Audience?

I've been learning so much this year — things my guides have shown me that I never would have found in books. Where I can still grow. My blind spots. The more I see, the more humbled I am by what I still don't know.

But one thing I'm sure of: we're here to help each other, with whatever gifts we've been given.

Compared to the billions of years the planets have existed, we're given maybe a hundred years. That's a blip. So — what would you want to do with the short time you have? Now imagine you never had to post about it, never had to mention it to a single person. What would you still choose to do, purely because it moves something in you? Not for applause, not for validation, not for recognition. Just for the fulfillment of doing it. What would it be?

With Love,

Ness

P.S. We’re in eclipse season yet again. Just a heads up and a cosmic permission slip, if you need one: Total Solar Eclipse in Leo on August 12, then a Full Moon Lunar Eclipse in Pisces on August 28. Leo asks us to stop performing and actually be seen — messy, real, unfiltered. Pisces asks us to feel it, all the way through, and let old versions of ourselves go.

If you've been extra emotional this month, more raw than usual, crying at things that "shouldn't" make you cry — you're not broken. You're just in sync with the cosmos. Don’t manage it. Don’t fix it. Let it move through you, then let it go.

You are not alone in this. None of us are.