I want to start this article by reminding everyone that this is one opinion – I have no interest in trying to persuade. After all, this is a personal account of my experience with spirituality and why my views have been shaped the way they have.

I grew up in a mostly atheist household, both my parents were raised Christian but somewhere down the line decided that it just wasn’t for them. My mom’s experience with Catholicism ended in elementary school when her older sister kicked in nun in the shin, grabbed my mom out of her fourth grade classroom, and ran home – never to return to catholic school again. To be fair, they were completely provoked – when you whack a child on the wrist with a ruler enough times, they are bound to become a little agitated, if not more.

I accepted this for a long time, as most children do. I accepted the reality I was presented, which did not include a god, the church, or any traditional sense of spirituality. My mom was very clear that if I wanted to make things happen, it was up to me, not anyone else – an idea that has stuck with me and continued to evolve way past my search for spirituality, and is largely where I draw confidence from in moments of insecurity.

I only recently started questioning my faith, or lack of it. I happened upon a Netflix series "The Cosmos" a little over a year ago and I became fixated on this idea of an expanding universe within a cluster of others, opening up the possibility for a ‘multiverse’ as some put it. As I watched, I couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

I felt helpless, and emotionally drained as I realized that this journey is one that I will most likely never understand completely. It is one that will continue to captivate me as I try to understand why we are here, what the next step is, or if there is a next step at all. All I know is that while I lay in bed at night, or make the long drive to visit friends up North, I find myself replaying images of the universe and comparing them to images of human muscle tissue, posing an undeniable similarity in shape, color, and makeup. It is this type of wonderment that makes me feel a certain sense of ‘connection’ among life on earth and the space we continue to discover. As I dive into the subject with the full breadth of my psyche, I find myself thinking we are just one piece of this enormous puzzle, that in a way, our planet is the smaller part of a larger, working ‘organism’ that is our universe, it’s motion, and it’s expansion.

It’s humanity that confuses me the most; are we special? I mean, there are seven billion of us, we have sailed oceans, discovered fire, and put a human being on the moon. Amidst that, we have fought wars with one another for centuries over faith, and we continue to busy ourselves with border disputes, claims to territory, and whether or not we will meet our end with nuclear war.

We have become so consumed by our own existence that we have forgotten how lucky we are to do just that: exist. There are 1 billion trillion stars in the observable universe, that’s a one with 21 zeros to follow, and in many cases there are multiple planets associated with each star, which, when you really think about it, can leave anyone in a catatonic state of philosophical wonderment – trying to conceptualize and understand something that is well beyond our current capabilities. However, as far as we know, we are all there is. We have not met any other “intelligent” life, and have only began to find hints of potential life in other solar systems around our galaxy and beyond. For me, this creates a powerful sense of community on earth, that even though we exist in large numbers, we are all we have. This realization brought about a new sense of self, and a new respect for our environment.

It was in those moments that I found my spiritual self. It isn’t one defined by any set of rules and it isn’t one that is controlled/created by a higher power. It is one in which I accept that as far as I know we are all just wandering through existence, and it is one in which I believe in another state of self, or a “soul”, as some would put it. I find an indescribable comfort in knowing that with seven billion people, and an endless cosmos, that there is still only one me – and there is only one you. I have a new gratitude for life, and a confident outlook on my ability to do a lot with my little amount of time here.

As I was writing this, I received word that my grandfather on my mother’s side had passed away. This past November he turned 98, on Armistice Day. He was born the day World War One ended, and was given the nickname “Army” by his kids, only to later be modified into “Papa Army” by his many grandkids, myself included. He battled a long time with old age and forgot lots of things, but always remembered to input a witty comeback whenever he could. He had a positive impact on the people he invited into his life. As a doctor - he made life better for people he didn’t know, and took those acquired skills into the Navy during WWII, later returning home to his wife Betty Lou and their first child, Frank. The two would raise six children together, become grandparents to seven, and great-grandparents to two. We would all be so lucky.