We each have a unique challenge we’re presented with in our life. At first it appears as an insurmountable obstacle that’s bound us to a life of suffering and struggle. But eventually, with patience, courage, and enough pent up frustration and pain for us to finally say, “fuck it!”, it can be recognized as an invitation to step up, heal ourselves at any cost, and be the gift we were meant to share with the world.
My challenge was quite strange, it presented itself very early on, had no apparent cause, and was not something anyone I met could remotely relate to. Even now, after exploring the depths of the rabbit hole that it opened up, it’s something very few people relate to, but a few is enough for me, so here’s my shpiel anyway. (“shpiel” is Yiddish for story; usually a repetitive story you’re tired of hearing 😄)
My first run-in with infinity was when I was about 10. The night started off pretty routine, I watched my favorite show, “Scooby Doo”, my dad tucked me in, I closed my eyes, and my thoughts began to wander,
“Ugh…I REALLY don’t want to go to school tomorrow. I hate school. How come grown ups don’t have to go to school? How come grown ups get paid to go to work, but I don’t get paid to go to school. What’s the point of school anyway? What’s the point of anything? Oh my god, I’m going to die one day! I won’t even be aware that I’m dead. The lights will just go off and I’ll never wake up again. Everyone one and everything I’ve ever known or cared about will be gone. Time will just continue on forever. Not just for 100 years, 1000 years, or even a million years, but for all ETERNITY!!!”
Just then, the thoughts ceased to be thoughts, and became an experience- an experience of eternity.
In an instant my entire world collapsed. Every worry and dream, every trauma and triumph, everyone I loved and hoped to love, me and my entire reality, reduced to nothing in the inexorable face of eternity.
Absolute zero. A fantasy no more real than last night’s dream. Completely void of any substance or meaning. Jolting upright in my bed, shivers running down my spine, I buried my face in my pillow, pulling my hair, and screaming in absolute terror.
The pain I experienced in that moment was simply indescribable and beyond one’s wildest imagination. It feels as if you, everyone you’ve ever cared about, everything you’ve ever known, every notion of good and bad, love and hate, cruelty and compassion, are all burning indiscriminately in the fires of illusion. I remember trying to bargain that I would be willing to exist without any limbs, motor functions, bowel functions, or ability to communicate, and tortured for the rest of my days if only this weren’t true. But anyone who has experienced infinity knows it is obstinate, unwavering in its truth, and unsympathetic to primal cries of suffering.
I remember the same year this all started; being curled up in my parent’s bedroom, watching the movie, The Matrix, for the first time. The Matrix portrays a dystopian reality where machines have enslaved humanity by plugging their brains into a simulated virtual reality program called, “The Matrix”, that looks and feels like the real world. I felt like I was Neo, a human trapped in the Matrix, who, unlike everyone else, realizes that something is wrong with his entire reality. Morpheus, a human that has been unplugged from the Matrix, then presents Neo with an irreversible choice; he can take the “blue pill” and stay in the blissful ignorance of the Matrix like everyone else, or take the “red pill”, unplug his brain from the Matrix, and be faced with the brutal truth that his entire reality is a farce. Chills ran down my spine. I couldn’t believe it. It was as if the creators made a movie exactly about what I had been experiencing. I felt like my panic attacks were a result of being unplugged from the Matrix, only to be plugged right back in seconds later. I remember wanting to send a letter to the directors asking if they could help me permanently break out. The Matrix would come to foreshadow my life in more ways than I could imagine, but at the time there was no Morpheus and no red pill, just me, screaming into my pillow, night after night, year after year.
While the experience itself lasted no more than five seconds and would occur less than once a month, it became a shadow cast over the rest of my life. I could never let it go because the pain was only overpowered by the deep sense of inherent truth behind the experience. Those five seconds felt like the only five seconds I had ever really experienced reality, it was the only thing that felt real. Everything else, family, love, making an impact on the world, even alleviating the suffering of others, was merely an illusion, a curtain pulled over my perception to protect me from seeing the monster that would otherwise be in plain sight.
On the outside everything seemed normal, but on the inside I was drowning in the wake of depression, anxiety, and meaninglessness left by infinity.
Behind the smiles and laughs on family vacation, the butterflies at the start of a new relationship, and the intense ups and downs of running a business, there was always a dull undercurrent whispering, “this isn’t real…”. Like a magician watching a replay of his own magic show, the magic was dead.
Throughout my life it felt like I was the only one who was deeply concerned with this matter of death and eternity. I felt very alone and very different from my friends and family. And despite being somewhat of a goofball, it also strangely made me feel more mature, special, or even superior to others in a way. As if I was the only one who saw through the answers we were being fed and was not content blindly fumbling through life without understanding the nature of our entire predicament. So what does one do with such a concern? Well, I did what any good Westerner would do. I suppressed the shit out it, put on a happy face, did what everyone else was doing, and hoped no one would notice.
Apparently Morpheus had slipped a red pill in my sippy cup, and didn’t quite get around to leaving a note explaining that once you’ve taken it there’s no turning back, and trying to claw your way back into the Matrix is a big no no.
Eventually, after a distinguished college beer pong career, a soul sucking corporate job, two stressful start-up ventures, a move across the country, a difficult break up, 6 years of disciplined meditation and personal development, and getting and doing just about everything I thought would make me happy and still feeling like shit, I finally had my “fuck it!” moment, or in my case, my “FML” moment. It went something like, “Fuck my company. Fuck my apartment. Fuck my goals. Fuck other’s opinions. Fuck. My. Entire. Life. I am going to figure out what this eternity, death, matrix, redpill, panic attack bullshit is really about, or I will go to my grave trying.”
The external journey that followed took me across five continents from remote parts of the Amazon jungle to secluded Tibetan monasteries in the Himalayas. The inner journey of spiritual awakening took me to the depths of my being and transformed my perception of reality.
With an appreciation that still brings me to tears, I can say that I haven’t had a panic attack since I accepted the invitation to heal, and I feel increasing levels of gratitude, clarity, universal love, and inner peace replacing existential dread. While my journey is far from over, I’ve been fortunate enough to get a solid peek beneath the wrapping paper of my gift, and I’m now moved by excitement and curiosity rather than desperation and suffering.
I hope that reading my shpiel inspires you to embrace the challenge you’ve been given, and reminds you that the gift you are lies on the other side of your pain and fear. As they say in the start-up world, “fail fast, and fail often.” I wish you the courage to say “fuck it”, the wisdom to see the immense love behind your suffering, and the clarity to know the Truth of the Infinite Being You Are and Always Will Be.
Eternally yours,
Jeremy Risin
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