All of us have regrets. But what happens when these doubts reach down into our earliest life and bundle around large proportions of our existence? This dissatisfaction and rejection of fate were the emotions fueling “Lost in Gardens.”
I discovered that the only solution to this conflict was to rework the narrative of my past. This meant that slowly I had to recognize the ways in which my past experiences still paralyzed my present; I had to scrutinize my model of the world and reconstruct large portions of my views, in order to relate and live coherently.
It became clear that dwelling on the past was futile, so I made a conscious choice to revise my perspective on mishaps and unsatisfactory outcomes.
A major element of my story which caused a sense of inferiority and loss, was the depression I suffered throughout my youth. This culminated in a struggle to adapt and find my stride in college. Realizations occurred to me: I was a sensitive soul in a harsh world; there was a need for a relationship with a transcendent force, which I was starved from in a modern, atheistic upbringing. Gradually parties, friends, the outer world itself became less interesting, and then came a phase my soul had been waiting for, but would not be easy.
Admittedly, I was given great leeway by my family. This allowed me to do yoga poses until my mind was emptied and meditate until bliss filled my soul. A long period of time, where I incubated, detached from the responsibilities of life also gave me an opportunity to contemplate and analyze my unconscious. In that process, scars opened up into wounds, and I felt accumulations of emotions from the past decade of my life.
Eventually, I began to see a larger scheme: the depression and confusion suffered throughout so much of my life had eventually broken. This had given way to a deeper sense of my values, which included a mysticism. There was much more to come, and still is, as I continue to unfold into myself; but, it does feel that the worst is behind me.
This music video, directed by Bobby Hanaford, renders, in a poetic and elegant way, the internal struggle mentioned earlier:
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