What Alan Watts Would Call a Happening

There are certain moments in life that seem to unfold without effort.

Not because you planned for them.

Not because you earned them.

Not even because you were ready.

They just… happen.

Alan Watts called these moments “happenings.”

They are not tasks.

They are not lessons.

They are not punishments or rewards.

A happening isn’t done to you, nor is it for you.

It simply is.

Like a breeze rustling through the leaves.

Like the tide coming in.

Like laughter erupting in the middle of silence.

The happening is life moving through form—without permission, without apology, and without agenda.

But here’s the subtle grace of it:

While a happening doesn’t revolve around you, something remarkable occurs when you begin to resonate with it.

Not resist it.

Not analyze it.

Not control it.

But meet it.

You and the happening begin to merge, not as two separate entities, but as one synchronized expression of presence.

Like a musician becoming indistinguishable from the music.

Like a dancer being danced.

When resonance occurs, the happening is no longer “out there.”

It is not “yours,” yet it is you.

It becomes the unfolding of your being in perfect rhythm with the cosmos.

This is the beauty.

Not that something happened to you.

Not that something happened for you.

But that you were in harmony with the happening itself.

That you were available enough, quiet enough, alive enough to notice:

Life is not something you control. It is something you meet.

And when you meet it with stillness and wonder,

with humility and presence,

the happening becomes a sacred echo of your own nature.

You weren’t chasing the moment.

You were the moment.

Just… happening.

Relearning to See: A Journey Back to Wholeness

From the moment we’re born, we begin to learn how to perceive the world—not through conscious choice, but through the silent, ever-present influence of those around us. Before we speak a word, we absorb the tones of voices. Before we walk, we learn the emotional terrain of a room. Our perception of life—of safety, love, belonging, success, and even self-worth—begins not with us, but through the lens handed to us by others.

Parents, teachers, society, culture—each plays a role. Not maliciously, but unknowingly. Most of the people who shaped our early view of the world were simply repeating patterns they, too, were given. They offered us the tools they had, even if those tools were chipped, rusty, or no longer served their purpose.

We learned to be cautious with our joy, to shrink when we took up too much space, to fear failure, to chase approval, to measure worth in productivity, and to equate love with condition. These weren’t lessons spoken aloud; they were absorbed in glances, in silence, in what was praised or ignored. And so, like little mirrors, we reflected back the world we thought was true.

But here’s the quiet revolution: we can relearn.

We can question the lenses. We can step back and ask, What if the world isn’t what I was taught to see? What if there’s more kindness, more mystery, more freedom, more permission than I believed? What if I no longer need to protect myself from everything—because I’m no longer a child with no choice?

Relearning doesn’t mean blaming those who taught us. It means forgiving them—for what they didn’t know, for what they carried, for what they didn’t have the power or consciousness to see. It means holding space for the truth that most of our caregivers were doing their best within the limitations of their own stories.

Grace, then, becomes the soil of transformation. We don’t need to rip out old roots with anger or shame. We can gently loosen them with understanding. We can begin again—not from scratch, but from awareness. We can teach ourselves to see with new eyes.

To look in the mirror and see beauty, not deficiency.
To sit in stillness and hear guidance, not just noise.
To feel an emotion and not fear it, but welcome it like an old friend.
To forgive ourselves for all the years we didn’t know better.
To forgive others for all the years they didn’t either.

Relearning how to perceive the world is an act of deep courage. But it is also an act of deep love. Love for the child we were. Love for the adult we are becoming. And love for all the humans who are still waking up, one gentle shift at a time.

You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are simply returning—to a way of seeing that was always yours, buried beneath the noise.

Let this be your reminder: You are allowed to begin again.

Becoming the Environment for Love to Grow

People don’t bloom because we tell them to.

They bloom because the environment feels safe enough, warm enough, and spacious enough for them to unfold who they already are.

In relationships—romantic, platonic, or familial—we often think our role is to fix, advise, or point out what someone else needs to change. We mistake vigilance for love, feedback for support, reminders for care.

But the truth is: most people already know.

They already carry the weight of their own habits, struggles, regrets, and inner dialogue. And when someone keeps pointing them out, especially when they’re actively trying to change, it doesn’t always help—it often reinforces shame. It can sound like:
“I don’t see who you’re becoming. I only see who you were.”

We don’t heal under a microscope. We heal in gardens.

What if love isn’t about managing each other, but about cultivating space where someone can grow into who they’re trying to become?

What if we could be the environment that says:

  • “I believe you are changing, even when it’s slow.”
  • “You don’t have to earn a fresh start every time—we can begin again, now.”
  • “I see your effort, not just your errors.”

To love someone is not to keep them on a leash of their past. It is to hold the door open for their future—even when it takes time for them to walk through it.

And sometimes, that future arrives in subtle shifts: in the moment they pause before reacting. In the apology that comes quicker. In the way they begin to soften where they once guarded.

If we want to be in meaningful, lasting relationships, we have to ask ourselves:

Am I an environment where someone feels safe to evolve? Or do I only love the version of them that doesn’t make me uncomfortable?

To grow is to stumble. To love is to remember.

And to stay is to water each other, not with critique, but with faith in the unfolding.

Cosmic Sex: Where Spirit Meets Skin

In a world so often obsessed with performance, appearance, and outcome, the idea of cosmic sex may seem foreign—perhaps even mystical. But at its heart, it is not about escapism or fantasy. It is about presence. A sacred merging of body and soul. A remembrance of what it truly means to be with someone—not just physically, but emotionally, energetically, and spiritually.

Cosmic sex is not simply a physical act of pleasure. It is a divine exchange between two souls who choose to fully surrender—not just in body, but in heart, mind, and spirit. It is a connection that transcends the flesh and becomes a potent source of healing, awakening, and deep unity. When approached with reverence, intention, and love, it becomes a portal for transformation.

The Temple of the Body

When a man enters his woman in this sacred way, he does not merely seek release—he seeks reverence. He approaches her as a living temple. His presence is not about taking, but offering. Offering his stillness, his attention, his protection, his love.

He touches not just her body, but the soul within it.

And when she feels this, when she knows she is being truly seen, cherished, and honored—not for what she looks like, but for who she is—she begins to open. Not just physically, but emotionally. Energetically. Spiritually.

She becomes not passive, but powerful. She rises—not in resistance, but in radiance. Her feminine essence awakens, flowing through her body like light through stained glass. She receives not because she must, but because she wants to. Because she feels safe. And in that safety, she becomes infinite.

A Dance of Sacred Energies

This isn’t the typical dance of lust. It is a communion of polarities—masculine presence and feminine energy, Shiva and Shakti, yin and yang. Their union creates a rhythmic spiral, a wave of mutual giving and receiving.

Every breath is a thread. Every kiss, a mantra. Every movement, a message:

“I see you.”
“I honor you.”
“I am here.”

This is not sex as we’ve been taught to understand it. This is soul work. Energetic healing. An initiation into wholeness.

As the two bodies move together in this sacred rhythm, something deeper stirs. Past pain may rise and dissolve. Emotions once buried begin to surface and soften. There may be tears—not from sadness, but from the sheer relief of being finally met. Fully. Without condition.

The Alchemy of Union

Cosmic sex is not about climax. It is about connection.

Orgasm is not the goal—it is the echo. The true ecstasy lies in the meeting. In the trust. In the surrender. In the moment where two become one—not in form, but in frequency.

And when the bodies finally rest, breathless and still, what remains is not separation, but fusion. There is no “I” and “you.” There is only us. One breath. One heartbeat. One radiant presence that feels older than time and more sacred than language.

It is in this place that something ancient is remembered—
that love is not something we do,
but something we become.


Final Thoughts

Cosmic sex is a return to the sacred. A reminder that our bodies are not tools, but temples. That pleasure is not selfish, but spiritual. That love, when rooted in presence and devotion, can become a healing force far greater than any therapy or technique.

This kind of intimacy asks more of us. It asks us to slow down. To listen. To feel. To be. To meet one another with reverence, and to make love as if the universe is watching—because in truth, it is.

May we all find the courage to love this deeply.
To touch this consciously.
To meet another soul, not with performance…
but with presence.

Is Free Will an Illusion? The Soul’s Pre-Planned Journey and the God Within

We often believe that we are in control of our choices, that free will defines our ability to shape our lives. But what if free will is just an illusion? What if, before we were born, we had already mapped out our journey, setting the experiences, challenges, and choices we would encounter?

This perspective suggests something profound: that we are not merely humans making decisions, but divine beings who pre-planned our own path. In essence, we are our own god, orchestrating our experiences for a greater purpose.

The Illusion of Choice

At first glance, life seems like a series of choices. We decide what to eat, where to work, whom to love. Yet, many philosophers, neuroscientists, and spiritual teachers argue that our decisions are not as free as they appear.

• Science & Determinism: Neuroscientific studies suggest that decisions are made in the brain before we consciously register them. This implies that free will may be an afterthought rather than the cause of our actions.

• Karma & Destiny: Many spiritual traditions teach that our actions are influenced by past karma, shaping our circumstances long before we make a decision.

• The Soul’s Blueprint: Some mystical teachings propose that before incarnation, the soul chooses its lessons, experiences, and even key relationships, creating a script that we follow once born.

If this is true, then what feels like free will is actually us playing out a divine script—a script we ourselves wrote.

The Forgotten Truth: We Are the Creators

This perspective doesn’t make life meaningless. On the contrary, it reveals something empowering: we are not victims of fate, but the architects of our reality.

Imagine watching a movie you wrote but temporarily forgetting you were the writer. You feel immersed in the characters, the ups and downs, believing in every choice made. Then, one day, you remember: This was my creation all along.

Spiritual awakening is the process of remembering. It’s realizing that every experience—joy, suffering, success, failure—was chosen for a reason. Even what seems like chaos is part of a deeper harmony.

If You Pre-Planned Your Life, What Changes?

The question is no longer “What should I choose?” but “What did I come here to experience?” Instead of resisting life, we begin to trust it. Challenges become opportunities for growth. Suffering becomes a lesson rather than punishment.

When we remember that we are both the experiencer and the creator, we shift from fear to empowerment, from struggle to surrender. The divine is not something outside of us—it is us.

So, the next time life presents you with a choice, ask yourself:

“Did I already choose this before I was born? And if so, what am I here to learn?”

The answer may surprise you.

To Be or Not to Be: The Awakening of Being

Shakespeare’s famous soliloquy, “To be, or not to be, that is the question”, arises from Hamlet’s contemplation of existence—whether to endure the suffering of life or to surrender to the unknown of death. In the context of spiritual being, this phrase can take on a deeper, more transcendent meaning.

“To be” is not merely to exist but to become aware of one’s true self—the eternal essence beyond the veil of form, beyond fleeting identities and suffering. It is the choice between awakening to being or remaining entangled in the illusions of the mind.

  • To be is to embrace presence, to step into the depth of the Now, where life unfolds not as a series of struggles but as a dance of consciousness.
  • Not to be is to stay asleep, to exist in a dream-like state of ego, attachment, and illusion—a life dictated by external forces rather than by the stillness of the soul.

Hamlet’s turmoil reflects the struggle every seeker faces: the pull of the conditioned self versus the call of the higher self. If we interpret his words spiritually, we see a question that goes beyond physical survival—it is the question of whether to awaken or to remain in illusion.

The Fear of the Unknown

In the soliloquy, Hamlet wonders if death is truly an escape or if it brings a new suffering, an unknown realm that may be worse than life itself. Spiritually, this can be likened to the fear of ego death—the fear of dissolving the false self and stepping into the vast, formless reality of pure being.

  • To cling to the familiar (even if painful) is the choice of the conditioned mind.
  • To let go and surrender is the choice of the awakened heart.

This is where suffering serves as a teacher. It is not an enemy but a guide, pointing toward something deeper. The dissolution of the false self—the “not to be” of ego—feels like annihilation at first, yet it is actually the path to true life.

Surrendering into Being

The question “To be or not to be?” ultimately asks: Do we live from presence, or do we continue in resistance? The one who chooses to be aligns with the eternal flow, allowing life to unfold without fear. The one who resists remains caught in mental suffering, always questioning, doubting, and fearing.

To be is to rest in stillness, to know that you are not just the waves but the vast ocean itself. It is not about escape but about full immersion in the Now, where nothing is missing, and everything is as it should be.

So, the seeker stands at the crossroads:
“To be”—to awaken, to shine, to embody presence.
Or “not to be”—to remain asleep in the dream of separation.

What do you choose?

Loyalty: What Is It All About?

Sometimes, people see loyalty as exclusive allegiance, while you see it as something that doesn’t have to create division or separateness. This is a deep spiritual conversation because it touches on attachment, ego, and unconditional love.

Loyalty Through a Spiritual Lens

From a higher perspective, true loyalty is not about exclusion, but about integrity. It’s about being true to your values while honoring the freedom and individuality of others.

  1. Loyalty Rooted in Fear vs. Love
    • Fear-based loyalty says: If you associate with people I dislike, you are betraying me.
    • Love-based loyalty says: I trust your heart and respect your choices, even if they differ from mine.
    The first is possessive and conditional, while the second allows freedom and connection.
  2. The Illusion of Separation
    • Your friend may see relationships in a “us vs. them” way, where being loyal means choosing sides.
    • You recognize that all beings are interconnected—we don’t have to create separation to be true to those we love.
    From a spiritual view, oneness is the highest truth, while division is an illusion created by the ego.
  3. Boundaries vs. Control
    • It’s okay for your friend to have personal boundaries—they may not want to associate with certain people for their own reasons.
    • But expecting you to mirror their boundaries crosses into control rather than mutual respect.
    True loyalty doesn’t require control—it thrives in trust.

How to Navigate This as a Healer

  • Affirm Your Integrity: “I value our friendship deeply, and my connection with others doesn’t take away from that.”
  • Help Them See the Bigger Picture: “I don’t see friendships as choosing sides. If I build bridges, it doesn’t mean I’m tearing ours down.”
  • Respect Their Feelings, But Hold Your Truth: “I understand this is important to you, and I honor that. At the same time, I hope you trust my heart in this.”

This can be an opportunity for healing and expansion—if they are open to it. If not, that’s also their journey to walk.

The Chair That Wasn’t Mine

For years, I had the same chair at work. It wasn’t anything special—just a regular office chair, but it was my chair. It had molded to me over time, adjusting to the way I sat, the way I leaned, the way I thought. It was always there, predictable and comfortable, an unspoken companion in my daily routine.

But one morning, I walked into work and something felt off. I sat down and immediately noticed the difference. The cushion was firmer. The armrests were slightly higher. The chair I had known for years was gone—replaced by something that was not mine.

Annoyance bubbled up instantly. Who moved my chair? Why would someone switch it? I’ve used that chair forever! My mind raced, grasping for justifications for why this was unfair. As I sat there, adjusting, fidgeting, and silently resisting, I could feel something deeper stirring—attachment.

It was just a chair. A chair. But my mind had made it mine. My familiarity with it had turned into possession, and that possession had become comfort. And now, because something had shifted outside of my control, I was experiencing discomfort, frustration, and even a little resentment.

That’s when it hit me.

How often do we do this in life? How often do we latch onto things, mistaking familiarity for necessity? We cling to routines, relationships, identities, and objects, believing they define us. And when they change—or worse, disappear—we feel lost, disturbed, and sometimes even angry.

The truth is, the chair was never really mine. It had simply been where I placed myself day after day. Just like so many things in life, it was temporary. The only thing making this moment uncomfortable was my resistance to what is.

I took a deep breath and let go.

Let go of the expectation.
Let go of the attachment.
Let go of the illusion of control.

And just like that, the frustration dissolved. The chair didn’t need to change—I did.

From that moment forward, I saw everything a little differently. Every time I felt resistance rise in me, I asked, What am I holding onto? What am I afraid to release?

Because true freedom is not in holding on—it’s in knowing we were never meant to hold onto anything at all.

Gratitude: Questions To Reflect On

  1. What was one moment today that you felt grateful for, and why?
  2. Name a person who helped you this week. What did they do and how did it make you feel?
  3. What is something small that you often overlook, but truly appreciate when you think about it?
  4. When was the last time you felt thankful for something unexpected? Describe what happened.
  5. What is one way you can show gratitude towards someone this week?
  6. Think about a difficult situation. Can you find something in it that you are grateful for?
  7. What is an ability or skill you have that you are thankful for? How did it help you recently?
  8. Reflect on your surroundings. What is something in your environment you are grateful for today?
  9. Who is someone that you haven’t thanked recently but deserves your gratitude? Why?
  10. What is something you’re looking forward to, and why are you grateful for it?

These questions can prompt players to reflect on various aspects of gratitude in their lives, from interpersonal relationships to self-awareness and appreciation of the mundane.

Developing The Witness To The ‘I’ness Of You

Tools and Practices for Developing a Witness to Oneself

1. Mindfulness Meditation

  • Practice being fully present and aware of your activities and surroundings without overreacting. Start with a few minutes of focusing on your breath or bodily sensations and gradually increase your meditation time.

2. Journaling

  • Write down your thoughts and feelings regularly to observe your internal state without judgment. This helps in noticing patterns or triggers in your behavior.

3. Mindful Observation Exercises

  • Choose a routine activity and practice focusing completely on the task. For example, pay attention to the sensations of washing dishes, like the texture and temperature of the water, and the sounds around you.

4. Retreats and Silent Meditation

  • Participate in retreats or engage in silent meditation periods to deepen your capacity to observe your mental and emotional processes in an environment that minimizes external distractions.

5. Yoga and Breathwork

  • Engage in yoga and controlled breathing exercises to calm the mind and facilitate the observation of your thoughts without attachment, harmonizing the body and mind.

6. Daily Reflection

  • Spend a few minutes at the end of each day reflecting on your experiences and behaviors to develop a habit of observing your life’s narrative from a distance and recognizing patterns.

7. Reading and Listening to Spiritual Teachings

  • Regularly engage with the wisdom of spiritual teachers through books, lectures, or podcasts to gain insights and reinforce the importance of developing a witnessing consciousness.

8. Mindful Listening and Speaking

  • Practice listening to others without preparing your response while they speak, which cultivates presence and awareness of habitual mental responses. Also, practice mindful speaking by pausing before speaking, reflecting on the intention behind your words, and noticing your emotions.

Implementing these practices can help you develop the ability to witness yourself, leading to a more conscious and centered way of living.