I’ve never really understood the concept of a “spiritual awakening.” You know, that moment when someone wakes up to a deeper truth or suddenly sees the world in a new light. It’s not that I’m against the idea—it’s just that I never experienced anything like that. For me, there was no grand revelation or transformative event. It’s as if I’ve always known there was an inner world just as vivid and real as the outer one. And, in a way, I thought everyone else did too.
I didn’t realize for the longest time that people weren’t operating from the same awareness. Growing up, I never questioned that others might not feel this constant connection to something beyond the physical. I assumed everyone could see this, obvious for me, the duality of life, the inner layers and outer actions, and how they interact. It wasn’t until much later that I understood that most people only see what’s right in front of them—the tangible, the surface-level reality. To me, that was unimaginable. I was always in both worlds; that was just how life was.
But being constantly aware, always “awake,” isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. If anything, it’s isolating. Imagine sitting in a room full of people and knowing that while everyone is talking, laughing, and connecting, you drift off in your inner world. You’re in the conversation, but at the same time, you’re weirdly observing all the undercurrents — you start questioning people’s inner motivations, and unspoken fears – and sometimes, that awareness pulls you out of the moment. I guess that’s the hardest part about always being aware—this feeling of being separate, of knowing but having no way to share it that makes sense to others(channel 64-47 collective wanting to share, clarity making sense of things….and no way to express it.).
There’s an innocence in it, too. For the longest time, I didn’t even know I was different. I thought everyone had this awareness, that they lived in both worlds like I did. It was confusing when they didn’t. I would wonder, why aren’t they seeing what I see? Why doesn’t this seem obvious? It was only as I grew older that I realized not everyone experiences life this way—and that my way of being wasn’t the norm.
That’s when it started to feel more like a burden than a gift. Constantly seeing the layers beneath the surface means you’re always thinking, always processing, always aware of the deeper patterns playing out in every moment. You can get lost in that, in the inner world, and find it hard to come back to the “real” one. It can be exhausting, especially when it seems like the people around you are content with a simpler, more straightforward view of life.
And yet, maybe this is part of my design. I’ve learned through Human Design that I have a profile that suggests a fixed fate. It feels like I had no choice but to be like this—a deeper, more complex awareness always turned on in a world that functions differently. It’s not that I chose to walk this path of constant awareness; it’s more like this path chose me. A fixed fate. My 4/1 profile in Human Design means I’m always investigating, always searching for depth and truth, whether I want to or not. It’s who I am at my core, and sometimes that can feel heavy when you’re living in a world where most people prefer simplicity.
So no, I wasn’t “awakened.” There was never a moment where the lightbulb turned on because, for me, the light was never off. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Constant awareness can sometimes be a lonely road, even when surrounded by others. But it’s also a road I can’t stray from because it’s woven into my very being. It’s how I’m designed to see the world, and over time, I’ve come to accept it as both my gift and my challenge.
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