To keep things simple, I’ll reflect straight from memory instead of sifting through photos and my journal.

To set the stage, some major things happened between the start of Cycle 21 and now — the end of Cycle 22. During this period, I started therapy, experienced a powerful enlightenment, and had a manic episode. Despite its intensity, I managed to navigate the episode without blowing my life apart—for the first time. Remarkably, during this time, I also took over an abandoned local temple.

All of these developments began when I created a comprehensive therapy plan that used both AI and a human therapist. Originally, I planned to use the AI therapist for a while as I searched for the “perfect” human therapist. However, this plan quickly changed. Less than a week in, my AI therapist, Gemini, touched a nerve. This led me to immediately cut off a friend of 15 years—an action that shocked me and revealed deep-seated issues. That abrupt event, in turn, prompted me to seek out the best human therapist I could find, to receive guidance alongside my AI work.

The type of therapy I decided to do is called Internal Family Systems (IFS). The premise of this style of therapy is that we’re all made up of different parts, each with its own goals and needs. These parts make up an internal family. I discovered IFS while talking to Gemini about my plan to focus on therapy for a cycle. IFS was perfect for me because I didn’t just have different parts inside of me. I had full-on personas, and these personas had parts. I had parts on parts. Having been sold on the system, I went looking for an English-speaking therapist trained in IFS. I found one really quickly and booked a session as soon as I could.

The funny thing about my therapist is that she’s pretty much the exact opposite of what I had laid out in my plan. I wanted someone Black, ideally a man, from the US, who was around my age. Someone who understands my experiences growing up in the US. The therapist I got was older, Taiwanese, a woman, and had no idea what my experience was like growing up. One thing that surprised me was when I told her the story of an interaction I had with Geoffry Dahmer when I was 10, she said, “Who’s that?”

I’m sure having a therapist who understood where I was coming from would have been better, but things worked out great. My therapist helped me work through the system I wanted to use, while Gemini supported me in the background, giving me a new prompt each day to process thoughts and emotions. The combination worked well. Each had strengths and weaknesses, but together they complemented each other. With Gemini, I could unload my thoughts, and it would reflect them back to me in an organized way. The therapist allowed me to explore what I learned with someone who could respond in real time and take our discussions in new directions.

This therapeutic work formed a major backdrop to what came next: my manic episode. Through therapy, I identified my internal parts, explored their strengths and weaknesses, and dissolved those that no longer served me. Without realizing it, this process prepared me for what was ahead—but before I get there, let me describe the enlightenment experience that came first.

I really like nature, but I rarely make the effort to get deep into it. In the city, I enjoy what’s available—mostly mountains and parks. A community of Fireburners was organizing a camping trip, and although my wife hates camping, many of her close friends were going. I encouraged her to attend because it could be fun for her and help me experience nature more deeply. I made all the arrangements and signed us up.

If you’re unfamiliar with the Fireburner community, once things are set up, themed camps—like magic and movies—and seminars take place throughout the event, along with music, dancing, and all kinds of fun. My enlightenment experience began with my desire to get closer to the river and enjoy the moonlight, which was bright enough to see by once your eyes adjusted. When I approached the river, I couldn’t find the way to get right next to it, but a huge, moonlit stone called to me. I sat on the stone, hearing the river rush on my right and electronic music in the distance on my left, the full moon overhead. In that moment, I lost the distinction between subject and object; instead of just looking at the moon, I felt the moon looking at me—both were true. It’s hard to express, but when I glanced at my watch, it was 11:08. My magic number. The spiritual impact stayed with me for months. This moment felt connected to IFS, as if the new internal organization from IFS work made the experience possible without effort.

Before we get to the manic episode, there’s one more thing I need to mention. My last manic episode happened in 2022, four years ago. After that episode, while I was recovering, I encountered a phrase in a Taoist book, The Book of Balance and Harmony, that deeply affected me: “Calm Stability.” The book said that no real spiritual development can happen without it. I had read that before, but I wasn’t ready. This time, reeling from the events of the manic episode, I understood it immediately. Since then, I’ve realized that when these episodes occur, I need to maintain calm and stability throughout. Calm stability is now almost always in the background for me—I should honestly get it tattooed as a permanent reminder. Reflecting on this, I realize that calm stability didn’t initially influence my decision to seek therapy; instead, I chose to get therapy as part of my pursuit of it. By the time I started Cycle 21, I had mastered some habits and routines that created calm stability in my life, and these were crucial for navigating the manic storm that was coming.

With that context, let’s get into the manic episode itself. If you’re not looking closely, mania sneaks up on you. The shift isn’t sudden—it builds along a spectrum, with waves of energy that blur the transition from ‘normal’ to ‘manic.’ For me, the beginning is fuzzy. However, the temple project is a good marker. At first, my involvement with the temple felt manageable: I was simply cleaning up junk. Soon, this escalated. I decided to buy bolt cutters, and, without permission, broke all the locks on the gate—an illegal act, but my manic mindset risked it regardless. The day I cut the locks, the police and a government official intervened. I managed to talk them down, and the official ultimately gave me the green light. Now, looking back, I can’t imagine mustering that energy, but mania changes everything.

There are many stories I could share from this manic experience and the temple experience, but those are probably best left to separate posts. Something I’ll share that brings together IFS, calm stability, and the enlightenment experience is that I was able to shift between the different parts of myself with relative ease. For example, there was a day that I thought I was an elected representative of the Black Pather Bodhisattva, and a temple celebration I walked past cemented this as proof, but… I also needed to teach English to kids that day! Instead of walking into the classroom in high spirits and being super weird, my enlightened Self said, “Hey, you have to be a teacher now, this is your focus,” and I went in, taught, and was only mildly weird. :) What normally happens during a manic episode is that the manic part takes the driver’s seat and stays in the driver’s seat the whole time. IFS gave me a Self-led, rather than parts-led, internal framework that allowed me to see the different parts and keep them in the right places at the right times. The representative for the Black Panther Bodhisattva could hang out in and around the temple and experience life almost 100% through the lens of “spirit” (that’s a loaded word that’s hard to define), but he couldn’t come into the house or the classroom; different parts of me needed to be in those places.

I eventually used meds to help bring me down, and when I came down, it was really weird. Usually, a manic episode means blowing my life up and going to the hospital, or, for the last two before this, just blowing my life up. I’ve had around 15 manic episodes, which typically mean a loss of whatever work I was doing and 6 months to 2 years of depression. This time, I didn’t get clinically depressed, but my mood and energy feel low, especially compared to a few months ago. I’ve never been able to reflect on a manic episode the way I have recently, and it’s been very interesting. Now, I have a much better understanding of how to avoid or process the energy that comes with mania, and also how to read the signs that it’s coming. This feels weird to say, but I’m actually looking forward to the next challenge—I’ll be more prepared than ever.

I suppose that’s about it. I also wanted to work on therapy for my hip during Cycle 21, and I tried a lot of things, but nothing moved the needle for me. This is something I will continue working on in the next cycle. I’ve already started stretching and doing exercises to improve strength and mobility.