I once read 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 “Om” is deceptive, for when said clearly, it’s actually three sounds, “A”, “U” and “M” and it’s in our haste to utter it as a cohesive unit that it often comes out–incorrectly–as only two.

And of course, to believe the universe made a sound at it’s “birth” is a story right there. The “big bang” is the current working theory explaining the universe’s known physical properties and it’s hard to imagine such a bang not making a sound but because the emptiness of space doesn’t carry “sound” (current science: except for gravitational waves) we would actually have to redefine sound in order to understand it. What can something say if it can’t be heard? Begging the question of the deep existential unknowings, asking who is the observer in this? Who is the one who hears? Is there a consciousness humans don’t have that experiences energy and light as it explodes into being? Questions which probe our growth, bringing us back to “Om” and the communion of heart. Where cross-legged on the floor we make space for the quiet, and in so doing, come to chant those three emanations from our voice box which no matter what the science or philosophy reveals is actually and truly the universe creating the sounds of itself.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

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. The moniker hit an emotional target that’s taken me over 30 years to fully understand. “Aimless.” That’s bad, right Mr. Rosen? I don’t belong here, right Mr. Rosen? Right?

I was someone born looking for the deeper meaning. Why are we here? How come I feel this pull to understand the ineffable? I was not raised religious but read spiritual books at an early age, took academic religious studies courses as my “fun classes”, and purposely-geared my University of California, Davis psychology degree into the “pseudo-science” of what consciousness was. For me, it wasn’t a faith-based endeavor, it was an intellectual exercise where I was seeking something from the inside out. I respected science enough to know that the full arc of its story is that science is ALWAYS in its infancy and as someone born with curiosity and a deep drive towards understanding important mysteries, the description of being “Aimless” was not only an insult but a fear. 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 deepest significance of who I was and what I thought was possible.

Yet 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 cruel 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, the traumas of my beloved daughters, irreparable rifts with the unkind judgment of those I thought were family, and all the other full catastrophes (grief, fear, isolation, desperation, ideations of a morbid hopelessness, facing the casual heartlessness of humanity desiring distraction from their feelings…) 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”? Who fucking cares? Why should I keep going when no amount of kindness or reflection on my part can make the hardship any less determined?

And there is a long story and a short story to anything in life and the short one is that one night while sitting on the stairs of my former home—as the wreckage of my life was battering me with incomparable desolation—I somehow reached a stillness. As if inside me was a quiet, a calm, a void, and during a brief moment, something finally could reach me and instantly when it did I could see the purity of what it means to be a seeker and the profound depth of the love I’d offered this world. I stepped into a different awareness, free of the anchoring of my ego and into the lovely aimlessness of the venture itself, so pure and poignant and free. The incomparable peace and significance of no thing and no self in full belonging to the destination that is me.

Beyond this site, I’m scattered around and nowhere. But here’s some more pics of my life. Thanks for coming by.

Aimless/Amy Brook Palleson/Amata Rivus