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It seems rather contradicting that the pursuit of meaning in our lives is usually bound by external endeavors. We seek the antipodes of what and where we are in an attempt to find ourselves. We pursue distance and remoteness as a way of appeasing the undeniable ‘pain’ that is our life. Seat 1C was at the front of the plane. Before boarding, the seat meant everything to me, status, priority; chronologically it was the first. As I took my seat I shortly realized that it wasn’t any of that, yes it was the first seat of the plane, but it was a replica of the twenty-five rows that followed it. It was a rather lonely seat, in a 2-1 configuration on a bi-engine rotor plane. Mid-flight, I came to realize that the seat owed me nothing, and its ‘loneliness’ was perhaps not the causality of its retaliation, but simply its benign inanimate existence. Shortly thereafter, water, drip by drip began to fall on my lap. As I looked up, the AC units above my head had begun condensing; a more continuous flow of water shortly proceeded. As I looked around for assistance, more in the way someone who is about to complain looks for validation, I came to realize that every seat on the plane was taken, and that since for clear safety reasons I could not take the narrow aisle as my seat; I would not be moving from where I was. As I locked eyes with the flight attendant, although apologetically on her behalf, we both knew that I wouldn’t be moving anywhere. I contorted my body to half of the seat, and for the next 45-minutes of my flight, contemplated ‘rain’ within an aircraft. This was what I needed to know, to realize where I was and what I would be doing. I was landing in Dharamshala, just 12-hours after arriving in India for the very first time. For the next 10 days, I would take a vow of silence, reduce my caloric intake probably by half, and meditate daily the combined total of what I had meditated my entire life. I had no idea what I was doing, or simply put what I was looking for, but the meek pursuit of unknowingness drove me to understand the validity of my standing. The retreat was painful, physically as I sat day in and day out for several hours a day I felt the gruesome ache of my back; by day three, tears inevitably began to inundate my eyes. Emotionally the pain was even stronger, solitude was the encouragement, the traditional escapisms of the digital world had been taken, and even the simplest characterization of what it meant to communicate as a human being had been striped; silence was to be respected. About half way to go, awake one night as I laid in the solace of my room, accompanied only by the chants of the surrounding fauna; I decided to appease myself with the technique I had been learning. I came to realize that the technique was simply a vessel, a guiding Charon in my journey from my outward experience of life into my inward world. This sole realization completely dilated my notion of time and space, I knew that the search for meaning, that inquisitive mission to find ourselves; was simply to look within. The externalities, the distance, and remoteness that we often cravingly seek to conciliate our existence do not lie outside of our periphery, but rather within the very synapses of our thoughts. The greatest leap one can take then, is in the apocalyptic journey inward, the truest sense of apocalypses is to reveal what is hidden, and its destination laid within me all along.