There is a theory that speculates what the conclusion of our universe might look like. As planets and solar systems eventually die out and galaxies parish, particles of light will be all that remain. Even the great stars that paint the sky will die out, collapsing in on themselves into white dwarfs. These white dwarfs lose their energy and become black dwarfs. Lifeless and void of energy. The timeline of the universe spans over billions of trillions of trillions of TRILLIONS of years. It is speculated that over the course of these changes, there may be islands of time in which intelligent life flourishes. The organisms of our current Earth will die out, as well as any that might exist in the our galaxy and universe during this era of intelligent life but in a few billion trillion years intelligent life may spring back up again, and last for another couple of billion trillion years.

It’s impossible for me to comprehend these insane timelines, but my ability to relate came with ease. If I think of my 35 years of life so far as say, 35 million trillion, the islands of time that have existed in my life have already many. I won’t bore you with the details but this theory changed my perspective on my own timeline. If already over these 35 billion trillion years of my life I have experienced what seem like multiple islands of time including heartbreak, failure, inadequacy, love, adventure, set-backs, fear — what could the next 35 billion trillion hold?

Often we view the years we have alive at these microscopic levels of decades. Limited to 70–80 years.

What happens if we view those years in the billions?

What happens if we allow ourselves to say our time is not ruled by a 24 hour cycle but that our time of existence is massively different than we believed? That the islands of time we have left to live new lifetimes within our existence have yet to even begin?

For all the failure and inadequacy or heartbreak you feel right now, you have billions of trillions of years left in your timeline for new love, success, and growth.

If our universe has vast and unprecedented potential for collapse and regrowth, so do we. After all, we are apart of that great cosmos. We are not on the outside looking in. We are looking out from within.

If you believe time is running out for you to live life at the level you have always dreamed, install new theories about how time works in your life. As we expand our understanding of the life of our Universe, we need to expand our understanding of this life of ours. Sticking to the model of time that we have for the past 4 billion years of intelligent life is ignorant given the many billions of trillions of years the Universe has left to live.

It’s time to think differently about time, and the many islands of time that are yet to come that hold love, adventure, success, and joy for you.

I’ve been single for a while now. Trust me, I spend the better part of my day analyzing why I haven’t been able to gain traction in this area, and with that, continually fighting the shame of the areas of my life I wish I was better at, and assume, are the reasons why I am in fact still on a relational team of one.

Today I decided I would be honest about a feeling I have had for a while — I can’t remember the last time I felt chased after. I understand as a male this is just not the biblical (oh no!) or cultural standard, but trust me, when you hit 35 and haven’t had a date in 2 years, those standards start to feel a bit obtuse and quite frankly, bullshit. My singleness has allowed me to hyper-focus on the areas of my life that I have much room for improvement, however, if consistency, loyalty, friendship, empathy, fun, encouragement, and being someone's number one cheerleader and support are the most sought after features in a partner, I’ve been lied too. Because at my age, that just doesn’t do it. As previously stated (and this seems silly, but It feels out of place for me as a cis man to say this) I haven’t felt pursued or chased by someone in a very long time. I don’t recall the last time I was told I was wanted — for coffee, a drink, a moment that was set aside and intentional. Except for from my mother, who is honestly and always will be the most dependable Woman in my life. (I love our coffee chats Mom). But, I am also writing this because I know I am not the only man that feels this way, and I believe it’s not only ok, but needs to be normalized that we express it.

I am far from perfect. My god am I far from it. Like, “What’s that on the horizon, I can’t even see it with my telescope’” far, but damn it y’all, do I know how to love well. I suppose I am lamenting for my own sake in hopes that perhaps that will be enough again someday. Even as I continue to work on the traits I struggle with.

Every once in a while you allow yourself to feel those enate human emotions and realize that they are completely valid and worth talking about. That’s me today. If you are a man and haven’t felt chased or wanted, you deserve to be. Remember that.

“In waiting and calm, you shall be saved. In quiet and trust lies your strength.”

My spiritual life is growing. A rebirth of sorts out of the ways of doctrine and dogma, and into a world of discovery. Seeing, feeling, praying to and in the spirituality of nature, of the universe, of vibrations and the mystical. Inviting the idea of miracles and signs back into my heart, while experiencing a world full of science and people who present miracles and signs in everyday life.

A marriage my soul has longed for.

To find God again, not as the “Father,” or the great singular being, but God that is.

Is the Mother and the Father.

The nameless and the named.

Is praying at the pew, and praying to the West.

Is art. Is music. Is the singer and the song.

The cello and the cellist.

Is the bird, the stream, and the mountain. The tornado and the torn.

God that is Jesus, Muhammed, the Rabbi, Mister and Maggie Rogers.

God that is the bread and the wine, wine and cheese, and just cheese.

God that is a ballgame, the BBQ, the bar.

God that is love of a friend, love with your partner, the laughter in a club. Is the concert, the play, the playwright.

God that is all things in their mystery, in which I also exist.

This is what I am re-discovering, or rather, discovering for the first time.

“The spiritual life does not consist of any special thoughts, ideas, or feelings, but is contained in the most simple, ordinary experiences of everyday life.”

The Spiritual life is not a life of rules and obedience. It is one of love, care, feeling and seeing. Putting down the phone, turning off the noise, and being present.

The joy that is brought from time together and time alone — of contemplation and prayer, both in how you would have them.

I have learned that the spiritual life is vital, but that it must be yours. It must be mine. I must keep the door open for the mystical, to pray and search for what is behind that thin-vail, while never losing sight of the beauty and majesty that is on this side of it.

To hear eternity in the concerto and the rap, and to see the love of God that is in those that make it.

Life is an abundance of moments. All webbed together, catching all who come into our lives. Some manage to escape, others, they get to stick around, even if we have to leave what we woven for a while.

I turn thirty five on Friday, and for better or for worse, I feel I've lived so many lifetimes in these last three and half decades. When I think back on the years I’ve spent in various places, it’s as if I died each time I left one of them. I’m not sure how the passage of time truly works, but it can be cruel and terrifying at times. For many years I have been desperate for time to heal wounds made by the loss of people and places, while all the while equally wishing I could have them back.

What is that?

Why is that?

Why the torture of wanting nothing more but to move on, while forever wishing you never had to? I want so badly to find the lesson in that, as to better my life in the coming years, but honestly, I don’t think any logic would change the dichotomy of the situation.

I suppose that’s the torment of life. The sacrifice we make by falling in love, and, suffering the loss of falling out of it. Of moving away from places, and friends, and family. Even if we know, without a doubt, it’s a move we must make. I suppose some things throughout the history of humanity never change — giving yourself to others will always result in heartbreak of some kind, and yet, it is somehow always worth it.

I feel tenured in experience, I suppose, but I hope as I move into the next thirty five years (if it pleases the court) I get to be reborn into giving of myself to new life. To new love. To a new abundance of moments. No matter the heartbreak, or possibility of having to move on, or bury, or search again.

It’s always worth it. It will always be worth it.

But what if, for me, a belief in God are those? Could I then feel the love of God? Detached of dogma and doctrine? Detached of sacrament and ceremony? Could I feel God in the cold? In the passing of water? In complete quiet?

Is that not God? I think for me, it may just be. I knew God at one point in my life, but I only knew God the way others told me I could. Then I wanted to know nothing of God.

Then I saw a dark cloud move over a snow-capped mountain. I felt cold air brush across my face as I watched it pass.

And In that very short moment, I felt and saw God. God was the cloud. God was the mountain. God was the cold sting of air. God was the senses and the feeling. God was not a him or a son or a sacrifice.

God was, and I was there.

The tragedy of life is the brick layer, who spends their years building beautiful towers of luxury and prestige. Watching as it rises higher and higher by the work of their hand. Once finished, only to resent such a structure, built up to cater to the luxurious and prestige's.

We elevate individuals to the status of celebrity, because in doing so, we fabricate something to admire, because in our own daily lives we fail to see it in what we already have. We see fame and fortune as capital forms of living. A standard that ensures ease and happiness. We adore their clothing, cars, and self-care. We pine for a chance to take a selfie. To capture ourselves right next to a being we have come to believe is god-like. We stare at this photo, send it to friends, post it to social media, and describe what the interaction was like, as if we had shaken hands with an extraterrestrial. We build them up in our minds as superior beings.

Brick by brick.

We fabricate worlds of conspiracy and malice, because we are too afraid that what is, simply, is what is. We self-medicate and write daily auto-biographies, wherein we are destined to fail. We drink, we smoke, we gamble, we pray, we deny. We build prisons around ourselves, and then blame the world around us for putting us in it. Too afraid to accept the mess we have made, we blame the sun for our sunburn. We blame pop-stars for the performance of our sports teams. Presidents for our apathy. Neighbors for our fence.

Brick by brick.

We rant on the internet, while our children laugh in the yard. We devour content. We gorge ourselves of it. We get drunk, and drive reckless through our relationships while we throw up the ideologies of others. We are too afraid to be sober in our own thoughts. We point, we pontificate, we share, we like, we comment, faceless behind our devices. We wait for the next great celebrity couple to be the reason our life is in shambles. We gather the theories. We get angry at our kids for being outside. We blame the refs for the price of milk. We create reasons for our problems, using no reason at all. We loathe happiness in others, as we are too afraid to seek it for ourselves. We fear the fearless.

Brick by brick.

Noble — Other forms: nobles; noblest; nobler

A noble is a titled peer of the realm or an aristocrat. As an adjective, noble describes someone with high or elevated character, or who is impressive in appearance.

Intention — Other forms: intentions. An intention is idea that you plan (or intend) to carry out. If you mean something, it’s an intention.

This phrase has been lingering in my head like a fog. Getting in my way of allowing me to just doubt myself and carry on. A constant reminder that I desire so greatly to be a noble person. To have practiced and acted in ways of high or elevated character. To have intentions in my decision making that are of the same nobility, and are carried out without obstruction from persons or circumstances. My dream of being this person is in constant combat with the person I more frequently tell myself I actually am. A self-inflicted war within, that I choose to allow to wage.

Can you really change, Taylor? No.

Can you truly be better than you have been? No.

Are we sure you are not the sum of my mistakes? You are.

As I reinforce this narrative in my life, the army of nobility enters the chat…

What’s the point of music if not to inspire us to reach out for greater purpose?

Why have museums, and films that express and examine, if not to encourage the betterment of ourselves?

Why pursue love of others, community, friendship if not to push yourself to be the best you can be for others?

Why read books on the lives of those who have caused great and beautiful change in the world if not to impress upon oneself, “Here you are, but there you could be.”

The war rages on.

Yet, in admitting that there is indeed a fight, change at the very least feels possible.

I know I want to live my life with Noble intention. I also know that there will be those who choose to simply perceive my actions when I fail to act nobly as the sum of the whole — Go with god.

I want better for myself, and somedays, that’s all you need to allow yourself to become that better person. Today I am thankful for this fog.

The want. The desire. The intention, to be noble.