If you’ve ever been to the cinema, you may have experienced a moment of existential disconnect—where you were temporarily detached from your body, your ego, and your everyday problems, completely absorbed by the movie. Then you are back to reality and you say, “Oh, I exist again.”
And this existential disconnect happens all the time, with us flying almost on autopilot throughout our lives, having moments of lucidity where we acknowledge the observer behind our eyes, saying, “Hey, me, I guess I am here,” while at the same time our sense of self is constantly changing with time, new information, and life events, leading some people to question whether we can actually say, “This is me.”
Furthermore, modern films typically engage only two of our five senses: vision and sound. So what if we could engage even more senses—adding smell, touch, or taste? Arguably, a full sensory experience could make a movie indistinguishable from reality.
This idea alone suggests that we might already be living in a kind of Matrix, so fully immersed in our surroundings that we accept them as real.
Then I look around, and I can perceive myself—but I cannot perceive others. This allows me to say with some confidence that I exist. I also understand that, biologically, others are just like me: they walk, talk, and behave similarly, albeit with individual differences. Logically, this suggests they must exist as well. Yet, I can never be entirely certain of their existence.
And this is when some people start claiming that God exists, offering their own reasons and convictions with absolute certainty. Yet, billions of others disagree. But how can I be expected to believe in something as abstract and theoretical as God when I’m not even 100% sure I exist?
Still, I believe there is evidence for the existence of God that goes beyond ancient texts, stories, and the words of others—sources that often raise more questions than they answer. This evidence isn’t found in what people or institutions tell us is true. Instead, it comes from our own ability to experience God to such a degree that we know, with certainty, of its existence. I’m referring to practicing faith at a depth that transforms us into something akin to saints—individuals who can communicate directly with God and feel its guidance firsthand. This requires a level of dedication that surpasses even the 40,000 hours typically associated with mastering a skill. In this case, the skill is spiritual and religious expertise.
To me, this work offers profound personal benefits: a deeper understanding of life and our place in the universe, and a greater sense of happiness. After all, spiritual fulfillment and happiness are closely linked, and the more we invest in this practice, the clearer it becomes how widely misunderstood spirituality is today. There’s a world of difference between merely reading sacred texts, knowing their content, and devoting 40,000-plus hours to spiritual labor.
I believe this work is crucial because no one truly connected to God would ever advocate for harm or death, or anything less than pure love and a desire for the well-being of all. Yet we’ve seen countless examples of human failure in this area—even among major spiritual leaders and organizations. To me, this suggests that these institutions are not led by individuals who are genuinely connected to God and guided by its wisdom. Instead, they interpret divine teachings through their own limited perspectives, even if they’ve spent years within these organizations and achieved positions of influence.
After all, it’s all too easy to lose ourselves in the opinions of others, to cling to physical or spiritual materialism, or to assume we’re right simply because we exist—because we like the sound of our own voice and people listen to us.
Of course, I could be wrong about all of this. I haven’t logged 40,000 hours of spiritual practice, so I haven’t truly “touched” God. But based on my own experiences and the spiritual progress I’ve made, what I describe feels accurate. Everything the gurus—those who have dedicated 40,000-plus hours to this work—predicted has come to pass in my life, and therefore I trust their guidance about the next steps, too, one of which is to experience God directly: to know it exists. This is, of course, a purely subjective experience, something we can discuss to the death, but never fully understand it, because we never done the work ourselves.
Until that point, we can endlessly debate whether God exists, placing our trust in people and organizations that claim it does. Some will be right. Others will be led by those who aren’t truly in touch with God, resulting in misinterpretations of sacred texts and, tragically, in wars, suffering, and harm. Yet the hallmark of a true connection to God is always the same: increased love, happiness, and well-being for all practitioners, regardless of the name we give to our faith.
To this point, I operate on assumptions—trusting that certain things work as others say they do—but I maintain a level of skepticism about everything, everywhere, all the time. I’m always searching for a deeper layer, a different argument, or a glitch in the Matrix that might reveal a completely different reality.
It’s like a mind game I play with myself, a game of “what if,” waiting for everything to shift in an instant—for someone to jump out and say, “You’ve been existentially pranked.”
So, do you exist? Does God exist? What’s your experience?
Stay happy and curious.
