A Note on This Series
I’m trying something different here.
For the past year, I’ve mostly shared stories of travel—of places, people, and adventures. But as I’ve moved through the world, certain themes keep surfacing. Questions that I can’t put down. Observations that feel too important to ignore.
This Shifting Grounds series is my attempt to put words to something many of us seem to be feeling but struggle to name. It’s my way of exploring why I began to shift gears—why travel alone wasn’t enough, why I needed to step back and examine not just where I’m going, but the world I’m moving through.
These ideas aren’t just mine. They’re threads I’ve picked up in conversations across continents, in moments of stillness, in the eyes of strangers who sense a world out of alignment This series explores ideas of external systems breaking down around us and the internal compass trying to guide us through.
When I use words like ‘spirit’ or ‘soul’, these are my ways of explaining the ineffable—the parts of us that connect to something larger, our sense beyond the rational mind. If this language doesn’t land with you, simply substitute it with ‘inner wisdom’, ‘deep knowing’, or whatever works for you.
I recognize people come to this awareness from different places. Some have felt this ache for years, others are just beginning to sense it. Some have the privilege of stepping back to question, others are too busy surviving. Wherever you’re starting from, you’re welcome here.
“In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule.” — Nietzsche
The Feeling
For nearly a year, I’ve been drifting across countries and continents, volunteering, sipping strange teas, and swapping stories with strangers. On paper, it’s been my dream—and in many ways it is. But in still moments, I’ve felt something else: a quiet unease.
Amidst the joy of travel, I’ve been moving through the world with something I can only describe as a strange, quiet ache. It’s not physical pain, but something deeper—an underlying anxiety that seems to reside in my soul. I can drown it out when I’m busy or distracted, but it returns in moments of stillness, patient and persistent.
I’ve come to recognize this feeling as a longing for a better world, or at least a more honest one. It’s my soul’s way of signalling that something essential is off with how we’re living. The ache comes from witnessing what we’ve learned to normalize: how we treat the earth and each other, the endless noise, the accelerating pace of it all. It’s a sense that we’re living out of harmony with something essential.
I know this ache isn’t mine alone. Maybe you’ve felt it too—a quiet, shared sense that we’re all pretending things are okay while something deep within knows they’re not.
Where It Comes From
Many of us sense things don’t feel right, but struggle to pinpoint exactly why. We can often agree on surface-level problems, but as we venture toward root causes, things become murky. So most of us carry on, smiling politely, adjusting to a culture that feels increasingly out of step with our deeper values.
Meanwhile, we bear witness to realities that seem absurd under scrutiny:
- We call hoarding immense wealth “success” while the majority struggle with basics.
- The current generation can’t afford housing, and questions whether it’s worth it to bring new life into the world.
- A few corporations own nearly everything we consume, yet we call that choice.
- Politicians are purchased through lobbying while we cling to ideals of democracy.
- News feels scripted and simplified, designed to agitate rather than inform.
- We scroll through catastrophe on screens while eating breakfast—numb to noise.
- Access to fresh air, nature and rest is seen as luxury instead of necessity.
- We’re more “productive” than ever, yet time slips faster through our fingers.
- Mental illness is treated as personal failure, not a symptom of a sick system.
We recognize these as problematic, yet collectively we don’t dare venture into their depths. If this is what we find on the surface, what lurks beneath? Perhaps we’re afraid of looking too closely, of accepting what real transformation might demand.
But these issues are growing too severe to let discomfort prevent us from getting curious. At the same time, it’s easy to feel helpless among all of this. The dissonance between what our hearts know is possible and our perceived inability to act—that’s where the ache lives.
The Hollowness in Abundance
Despite living in a world where we ostensibly have everything, there’s a hollowness to modern life. Our lives feel full but often aren’t fulfilling. Even when we achieve everything we’re told we should want, something essential seems missing.
We live with incredible comfort and convenience compared to any point in history. Yet amidst material abundance, our souls have been starved of meaning. As Jiddu Krishnamurti observed: “It’s no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” Perhaps the ache is our soul’s refusal to compromise.
So, a low-level anxiety goes on humming in the background, mostly unnamed. The problems we see aren’t isolated phenomena but symptoms of something deeper—a systemic breakdown that penetrates beyond our institutions into the depths of our spirit.
The Longing for Something More
Many of us can remember a time when things didn’t feel this way. Perhaps that’s nostalgia, but I think it’s also a signal that our systems no longer truly support us. Like a frog in slowly boiling water, we don’t notice a single tipping point. Instead, we keep redefining normal as the world hurtles forward.
Still, there’s a longing in our hearts that says this isn’t right—that there must be another way. The gap between what our hearts tell us is possible and the troubled world we inhabit creates a painful tension. When we lack tools to cope, we find other ways to manage. Collectively, this manifests as guilt, confusion, detachment, numbness, addiction, and escapism.
And beneath the despair is something else. We carry an inner wisdom that we’re capable of something better. There’s a longing for something more—more beautiful, more loving, more alive. We long for clarity, community, coherence, and connection.
My Own Turning Points
My understanding of this feeling didn’t come overnight. It grew through experiences that cracked open my worldview, forcing me to see beyond the story I’d been living.
Travel confronted me with realities I couldn’t unsee. In India and many other countries, I witnessed inequality, injustice, and poverty on scales that shattered my idealistic assumptions. It became clear that those of us in developed nations live in a bubble. The suffering isn’t a statistic, but lived experiences of real people who bear the burden of our comfortable lives.
Psychedelics opened doorways I didn’t know existed. Through Ayahuasca ceremonies in Peru and mushroom journeys, veils lifted that I hadn’t even known were there. I glimpsed beyond our political theatre and educational programming into timeless realms. I saw how blind we become to our collective conditioning.
Stillness practices like meditation, journaling, and quiet observation gave me tools to actually feel the discomfort instead of running from it. I’m far from mastery, but these practices help me hear what my soul is trying to tell me.
Each experience presented ideas that didn’t fit my old way of thinking. At first, I rejected them as they threatened what I’d been taught was true. But they kept returning, louder and clearer, until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.
My Journey
These growing feelings are a big reason why I left my job and life in Canada. A year ago, I resigned from my engineering career, sold my belongings, and said goodbye to friends and family. I didn’t do this just to travel, but to deeply examine myself and the stories I’d been carrying about the world.
As I’ve moved around, I’ve realized this journey isn’t just about destinations. It’s also about understanding the moment we’re living in. This departure opened me to be changed by places, people, and perspectives in ways I couldn’t experience by staying home.
I still carry an engineering mind that looks for root causes beneath surface treatments. I’ve been putting off writing about these ideas because they’re hard to articulate, and this terrain feels uncomfortable to traverse. But the feeling persists, and I’ve discovered that many others share it too.
A Story Too Big Not to Tell
The ideas I seek to excavate venture into uncomfortable territory, but I think that’s exactly where we need to go. We live in a time that asks not for surface solutions, but for deep reckoning. I don’t think we can wait for the change we want. Instead, we need to embody the change we seek. This begins by understanding our prescribed boundaries and challenging assumptions we’re been taught to never question.
So, how does one begin to wrap their heart around something so complex and vast? Honestly, I don’t know, but I believe we have to try. My goal is to explore without bounds, outside of taboos and sacred cows. This isn’t about being right—it’s about having the freedom to ask questions that aren’t supposed to be asked.
What I really want is to explore with an open heart and mind. Maybe you’ll come along for the ride.
Into the Cave
The ache remains, but something has shifted. What started as a quiet, unnamed feeling is now an invitation to look beyond the surface into what wants to emerge. The only way through this collective unraveling is to see the illusions, the pain, the taboos, the forgotten ways. We must venture into the depths of our personal and collective shadow—not to get lost there, but to come back clearer, stronger, and more human. As Joseph Campbell reminds us: “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”
Maybe you feel this too. Maybe you’ve been waiting for permission to name what you see, to trust what you feel, to speak what you know. This series is an invitation to explore together, to connect the dots, to make sense of this moment we’re living through.
Our silence serves the very systems that keep us unsettled. Perhaps together we can find language for what’s happening during this great transition that seems to be asking us to step up.
Journal prompt: How does the strange, quiet ache feel to you? Where do you feel it in your body? When do you notice it surfacing? What are your coping mechanisms?