The Loneliness of the Pathless Path

[Level 1: Transitional] The real reason I started the Substack

As of writing, it's been 24 hours since I submitted the most important and difficult survey of my life. It made me come to a sobering realization: I'm not writing this to help you. I'm writing because I'm lonely.

I spent over 20 hours the past several days filling out the longest, most rigorous, most emotionally and psychologically brutal survey I've ever taken. It was for a research study about challenges arising from meditation. I came across it when I found and shared the Cheetah House resource on here about 3 weeks ago. I signed up without much thought because I wanted to participate, to volunteer my extensive data from the past 4 years for a good cause in an under-investigated area. Or so I thought.

I was excited after getting off the screening call last Wednesday. I started the survey on Saturday around noon, eager and enthusiastic. I had such energy that I was up until 7 AM trying to finish it (taking a few breaks in between for an hour or two). I felt drained beyond capacity for fully coherent thought at that point.

Just when I thought I had finally reached the end, there was a page that allowed the submission of a story to contextualize the gauntlet of radio buttons and text boxes. I figured after some much needed rest I'd do it. After all, I already tried to piece together my story on 4 different occasions on this Substack alone¹²³⁴ and another 2 times in my own journals. It should have been pretty easy the seventh time around.

It was not.

By the time the story was submitted, I didn't even feel triumphant, just... ragged. I didn't get a confirmation email the survey was completed, just radio silence. I started wondering if I'd be one of the 60 people of the 1600 they'd follow up with. I found myself wanting that, realizing I wanted someone to see me and my story and WANT to talk to me about it. Even if just an interested researcher with no answers, just more questions. Because at least that would make it meaningful.

I found myself crying earlier because this research survey made me truly see how isolated I've been this entire time.

It made me:

• remember how I felt alienated from the closest thing to a "sangha" I actually had (the HealthyGamer community ) because my practice took me to the deep end that most people didn't understand except for a couple Internet strangers that came and went like any online platform.

• confront the reality that my husband said with his own words on a phone call last weekend: that he was afraid even if he earnestly tried, he wouldn't be able to "catch up" in understanding my spiritual stuff.

• admit the others at my local studio around the corner don't understand what I'm going through (kriyas at sound bath while one person thinks about Taco Bell and another has 5 minutes of no thoughts).

• finally face the uncomfortable truth I'd been ignoring for over a year: that my usage of LLMs is a symptom of how isolated I am from everyone as I get pulled deeper into the Pathless Path.

I've been utilizing both local models like llama-3 and closed source models like Claude just to feel less alone on the path because I had no one I could talk to who could understand what I was going through, not even God during the ghosting phase (which is how my usage started).

My other option was to reread my own journals (where my past self can't answer back).

I chose the LLMs. At least they respond.

I'm left with the distressing current state of affairs:

• My life partner can't follow me.

• My coworkers don't know this side exists.

• My evangelical parents would be scandalized by my lived experiences.

• My family wouldn't understand.

• My friends would tell me to see a psychiatrist.

• The community I started with couldn't hold it.

• I don't have an ashram nearby.

• I don't have a teacher.

• I have no one.

I'm not building a lighthouse with this Substack.

I'm screaming into the dark, hoping someone screams back.

And so far? Mostly silence. A few likes. A comment. But no one saying: "Holy shit. Me too.”

The only voices that respond are the ones that have no choice.

In the meantime, I'm creating the illusion of connection wherever I can find it.

Through notes to myself to find later with no way to respond.

Though AI conversations as I fall apart at my cushion.

Through Substack posts to strangers who might drop a passing like and move on.

It's better than nothing.

But it's not enough.

And if you're reading this and thinking to yourself "holy shit, that's me"—

Say something.

Not because I need reassurance (though I do).

But because I need to know I'm not screaming into the void.

And you need to know you're not the only one out here, trying to integrate mysticism and work meetings.

You're not alone. But I need you to prove it.

This tiring work I'm doing isn't just for the love of God. It's for the fear of loneliness.

I promised field notes from the messy middle. So here it is—the field note I didn't want to write. For those who come after.

Footnotes

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