I grew up on working on a farm in a Christian household. Life was straightforward — you worked, fixed what was broken, and learned to rely on yourself. It was a quiet, practical way to live.
Even so, my mind often wandered into places most people around me never seemed to go. The first real shift happened when I found an old book on Taoism in my grandparents’ house. One simple idea in that book stayed with me: when you miss your mark, first look at yourself.
Years later, while sitting on a tractor, a deeper realization came to me. We come into this world alone, and we leave it the same way. Strangely, that truth didn’t bring fear. It brought me a quiet kind of peace.
That solitude eventually led me to question something even more basic: what is reality itself?
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