Ever feel like we’re all just… floating? That the world is a blur of headlines, hot takes, and content streams, all coming from some distant server farm? You read the news, but you know it’s just one angle. You see a post, but you wonder what’s being left out. It’s exhausting. It can make the most important things feel just out of reach, like trying to grab something through fog.
I’ve felt that way for years. My response was to start digging.
I became a collector of deep things. While my friends were scrolling through the day’s trends, I was down in my own private library, binge-reading history, getting lost in different beliefs about life, and tracing ideas through centuries of philosophy. Music and great stories became my textbooks.
But here’s the lonely part: when you’re down in your library, it’s hard to explain what you’ve found to someone who’s just popping in for a coffee. I’d find a podcast or a book that shook my world, but I’d hesitate to recommend it. It wasn’t just a show; it was a key to a whole new room in my mind. Would they have the time? Would it land the same way?
And let’s be honest — we’re all guilty of this. A friend says, “You have to watch this!” We mean to, but life gets busy. We save the link, and it vanishes into a “Watch Later” list that feels more like a “Probably Never.” We’re all so busy managing our own inner worlds that we sometimes miss the chance to connect over the amazing things we find.
But here is the good news, the part that changed everything for me: I didn’t find my way through the fog with a philosophy book first. I found it through music.
Music woke me up. It’s a direct line to feeling and understanding that doesn’t need fancy words. A song can carry the weight of history, the pain of a generation, or a pure joy that language can’t touch. Building a journey through music — hearing how different times and cultures expressed themselves — gave me a map. It helped me connect the dots. Reaching a “peak” on this journey just means those moments of stunning clarity, where you see how everything you’ve loved fits together into a bigger, beautiful picture.
And this is what I really believe: we are all treasures. Remember the kids in The Goonies? They had a messy, imperfect map and a wild belief that something incredible was waiting for them. We all have that inner Goonie. We’re all a little restless, sensing that there’s a more real experience, a deeper connection, or a truer version of life just around the corner.
This brings me to the most important part: the work is never over, and no one can do it for you.
You can’t stand in the fog and just hope for a manual to appear. Easy answers, echo chambers, and comforting lies might feel like a rescue, but they’re just another part of the fog. The real way through is to use your tools and do the digging yourself.
Your curiosity is a shovel. Your questions are a flashlight. The art, music, and stories that give you chills are your compass. Your “Watch Later” list is a treasure map you made for yourself.
So start there. Save that one article that intrigues you. Actually listen to that album a friend raved about. Follow the thread from a movie you loved to the book it was based on. Build your own library, one piece at a time.
The goal isn’t to know everything. It’s to get clear enough to see your own path, to understand what resonates with you. And maybe, every once in a while, to share a piece of your map with another seeker. When you do, you’ll both feel a little less alone in the fog.
Originally published on Medium. It lives here now — new essays land in the Journal first.
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