I read somewhere that “Om” is the sound that was made at the inception of the universe. That when the entirety of all things was somehow formed out of a void, Om was the vibrational emanation that erupted when the energy transferred from one state to another.
And of course, it’s poetry to think about. To imagine that billions of years later, humanity came to use Om as mantra for healing ills. To imagine that all we are (and all that could even exist) somehow came into being then outside of specific intention and awareness, it weaves it’s way it wove it’s way into the most meaningful parts of our lives. To where out of the chaos of a human life could be distilled a common source running through all and tucked inside coffee shops, and bodies, and profound experiences is the pulse of the universe beating constantly to the Story of Us. Beating until we’re using the sound of it–cross-legged on floors, bowing into humility–to assist us in finding the ultimate peace of ourselves.
It’s poetry, of the loveliest kind–living into truths as if somehow by both design and happenstance.
The site title “Aimless” is a moniker I received from my AP Economics teacher Mr. Rosen at Aptos High School (CA) in front of a class of my peers–who didn’t know me except as the shy, new girl whose face turned red when she had to speak—which hit an emotional target that’s taken me over 30 years to fully understand. I was someone born looking for the deeper meaning–read spiritual books at an early age, took religious studies courses, purposely-geared my UCD psych degree into the “pseudo-science” of what consciousness was–so the description of “Aimless” was not only an insult but a fear. For to be “Aimless” was like saying I’d never find the enlightenment the Buddha described, or walk the earth in love with humanity like Jesus. “Aimless” was someone ambling purposelessly along a road of meaninglessness, the glancing blows of love and experience barely reaching into the heart of who I was and what I thought was important. But now at 51 years old, I see things more clearly.
Because over the course of my life, I did feel aimless. I’ve lived in four states–moved in and out of towns and cities, and relationships–became a single parent in 2007 after a savage divorce, went back to school for a masters degree in teaching and started a pet sitting business to supplement my income then graduated in 2011 into Life’s cosmic sense of humor where I didn’t get a job, experienced unemployment, financial hardship, personal traumas with my daughters, irreparable rifts with the unkind and judgmental, and all the other full catastrophes (grief, fear, isolation, desperation) until I began to question the validity of a life which could deliver such experiences. Who cares about deeper meaning when things are so hard and why do I even want to be here for this cruel social experiment known as “humanity”?
But one night while sitting on the stairs of my former home, as the wreckage of my life hit my heart with an incomparable loneliness, I reached a stillness from which I rose knowing that within the external circumstances of any life will still always rest the profound purity of the love we have to give. And that it is in fact the love we offer and have offered this world that turns back upon us to speak into our soul when we most need it.
I currently live in Salt Lake City, UT (but I’m not Mormon so let’s move quickly past this dance), was 51 on 10/1/2019, am a single parent of two girls (Julia, 21 and Livy, 19), a business owner/pet sitter, an animal lover, a teacher, a writer finding her voice, a devoted believer in the emotional freedom that comes with complete authenticity, and an aimless soul intent on expanding into the ever-changing truth of a single second.
Because the search for a deeper meaning to life is an unsolvable logic puzzle unless we can find a way to live within the spontaneous creativity of what you do inside just one moment. For it is only in those moments that meaning itself is experienced and created.
And such it is that all these years later, I bow to the wisdom of Mr. Rosen, the painful clarity of emotional targets, and the dark nights of the soul that forced me to explore the deeper significance of myself.
Beyond the heaviness of this intro., I post writing (and irreverent, tongue-in-cheek, salty humor) to Instagram @aimless1001 and pet sitting pictures (and occasional essays) to @amythesitter. Feel free to reach out to me at firstname.lastname@example.org if it so calls.
Thank you and have a peaceful day.
Aimless/Amy Palleson. (Permanently: TBD).