The post “A Bridge of Discovery” traces a lifetime hunger for love, acceptance, and a deeper, felt truth, showing how this longing evolves from family love to self‑acceptance and finally toward a metaphysical connection that thought alone cannot reach. It frames memory, personality, and spiritual seeking as parts of a single bridge the author is building from rational understanding to a more embodied, heart‑level knowing of reality.
Main ideas of the post
• The author revisits every decade of life (ages 7, 17, 27, 37, 47) to ask, “What do I want most?” and finds a consistent theme of relational love and acceptance. The specific answers move from wanting parental love, to peer acceptance, to forming a family, to receiving love from a daughter, and finally to accepting and forgiving the self.
• Memory is pictured as a “time machine” built from the brain’s vast neural connections, allowing the author to re‑enter earlier stages of life and question those selves. Yet memory is acknowledged as selective and double‑edged, capable of teaching true lessons or hiding lessons not yet learned.
• Across decades, the author notices a preoccupation with “how I fit into the social arena,” which reveals a deeper sense of disconnection and a yearning for a more profound metaphysical bond than ordinary interactions provide. Material wants are set aside so the focus can rest on questions of meaning, belonging, and the soul’s orientation to others and to reality itself.
• The Enneagram personality pattern is invoked as a framework for understanding why the author has always sought deeper connection and why relationships and coping strategies have unfolded as they have. Personality, early disposition, and ego are seen as shaping both the hunger for intimacy and the missteps in handling emotional events.
• The author describes a lifelong search for a truth that can be “felt in your entire being,” not just believed through religious doctrine or rational analysis. Mystical and experiential knowing—rather than purely conceptual faith—is presented as the missing piece, a door that has not yet fully opened.
• The Buddhist parable of the blind men and the elephant illustrates how limited perspectives lead to quarrels and one‑sided claims about reality. This is connected to Heisenberg’s insight that what we observe is shaped by our “method of questioning,” urging the reader to ask better questions and recognize interpretive limits.
• The “metaphysical problem” becomes how to move beyond the reasoning barrier into a shared field of perception and intention with another human being. The author suggests that a “psychic gap” can be bridged by experiences that are felt, not just thought, pointing toward a more holistic engagement with life.
• Classic spiritual and philosophical works (Tao Te Ching, I Ching, Dhammapada, Upanishads, Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard, Sartre, Gurdjieff) are re‑read in this light as potential guides to deeper experience, not just intellectual systems. The author notes that different learning styles (verbal, tactile, visual, abstract, etc.) may mean prior reading did not fully activate inner senses needed to grasp their depths.
• The post closes by emphasizing the need to “undo” conditioning that blocks awareness of being connected to everything around us. The “bridge” being built is explicitly named as “one for the heart,” a path toward discovery through lived practice rather than theory alone.

I went back through the years, like walking through a quiet, borrowed sky. .
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A small boy counting heartbeats, just wanting his parents not to say goodbye. .
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A teenager scanning faces, trading jokes to earn a fragile place. .
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Afraid that if the laughter stopped, it meant he could be erased. .
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A young man holding wedding rings like tiny suns that might not stay. .
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He prayed that starting his own family would keep the shadows far away. .
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A father staring at his daughter’s face, stunned that love could look back too. .
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Her trust rewrote his failures, like morning light correcting midnight’s view. .
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Years later in the mirror, he met a stranger he still called his name. .
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He finally asked for mercy on the man who carried all that blame. .
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The brain became his time machine, with sparks of memory crossing like a storm. .
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He saw how every wire of need had shaped his wanting into form. .
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He traced the threads of friendships, all the clinging, all the flight. .
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He saw a deeper hunger hiding underneath the want to “be all right.” .
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Not comfort made of objects, not the safety of a locked front door. .
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But some warm proof that soul meets soul, and both wake up as something more. .
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He read the mystics late at night, his coffee cold, his questions hot. .
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The words were like a map to lands his reasoning alone could never spot. .
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The blind men touched the elephant and argued over trunk and tail. .
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He heard his own voice in their fight, each partial truth prepared to fail. .
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Heisenberg whispered gently, “You see the world your questions choose.” .
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He realized half his heartbreak grew from what he’d asked and what he’d refuse. .
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For years he worshiped clarity, then learned that love can blur the line. .
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Sometimes the truest knowing comes when logic kneels and steps aside in time. .
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He saw his Enneagram like armor welded from his childhood fear. .
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It kept him safe from sudden loss, but blocked the touch of those who drew too near. .
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He practiced softer questions, ones that did not pin the heart to proof. .
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He let another’s trembling eyes be evidence enough of holy truth. .
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Some nights he felt a Presence move between his thoughts like quiet rain. .
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No thunderclap of doctrine, just a shared, mysterious easing of his pain. .
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The Tao, the sutras, worn-out texts, all opened like a windowed wall. .
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He sensed they were not puzzles, but invitations simply to be all. .
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He started training inner sight, like learning how to breathe again. .
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Trusting that the bridge is built by every honest, open moment with his pain. .
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Now when he meets another soul, half-hidden behind careful glass. .
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He does not rip their fortress down; he waits, and lets their courage slowly pass. .
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He offers solid footing, not a net that steals their ground away. .
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His love stands like a quiet bridge that will not beg, yet chooses still to stay. .
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The span runs from his thinking mind to where his living heartbeat sings. .
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Each step across that trembling space is stitched with ordinary, holy things. .
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He walks it not as one who’s found some final, blinding certainty. .
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But as a human building, breath by breath, a bridge of gentle, waking discovery. .
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DCG