Originally Published for the Bentley Vanguard on February 2nd, 2015
As I stared out the window at everything and nothing, I felt my throat choke against the emotions that had been buried deep within my chest for the past few months.
My mind drifted back to the last three days under the hot Georgia sun. Our campground, littered with dreaded hippies and sunburnt hoopers, was the mecca of creative output and interdependence. Like the warm breeze that flapped through the folds of each tent, a wave of genuine smiles and understanding embraces swept over the grassy knolls. I seemed to have uncovered an oasis seen only by those brave enough to step out of their comfort zones.
With nothing but music and good vibes propelling my every action, I had learned more about myself and the world around me at a music festival than twenty years of schooling.
We were one cohesive entity connected not by words or material possessions, social status or age, but by the indiscriminate beauty of music. As if a veil had been lifted from my shoulders, I both physically and mentally felt my insecurity, my stress, and my discomfort release from the hollows of my spirit. It was undoubtedly the counterpoint to my life, a metamorphic transition from adolescence to young-adulthood.
I am now a firm believer in the power of attraction and the cosmic energy that connects us all. You could say I’ve become a sort of spiritualist.
I’ve actually never followed any religion and I often actively avoid any type of institutionalized system of rules or regulations. The beauty of spirituality is that it knows no boundaries. There are no churches, no bibles or holy books, no set prayers, no pope or priest or deity, no undisclosed contract binding you to lifelong duty. My take on being a spiritualist simply means I respect the light in others as well as myself, and will consistently act with positive intention, gratitude, and love.