I’m at that point in life where everything I see on Instagram is something I’ve already lived: new friendships, mountains, dream jobs in far-flung places, sports that are trendy now but that I enjoyed ages ago, climbing towering peaks, the Camper lifestyle, cooking, house parties, pure astronomy, firsthand activism, intense emotions, falling in love—and yes, injuries, hospitals, trolls too… All checked off that mental bucket list everyone chases as if their life depended on it.

  • Did I enjoy it? You might ask. Absolutely.
  • Do I regret it? Not a chance.
  • Would I do it again? Of course!

But no matter how many experiences I cram into my résumé—and how much I relish them, because I do—it always feels like I’m chasing something just out of reach. That elusive culmination that would finally anchor my cognitive peace. Yet as the days pass, I’ve realized there’s no such thing as satiating cognitive peace. It’s just learning, crossing another item off the list of places to grow from. And truthfully, though it fills me, it doesn’t fulfill me the way other moments do—ones with less material wrapping, even when we’re talking about experiences.

The Only Thing That Fills the Void

I’m starting to understand that nothing fills me up as much as sharing and feeling love. There’s no magical substitute. Watching someone grow, admiring them, helping, sharing moments when they’re fully unleashing their superpower—that’s what utterly satisfies me. I call it sharing, and it only happens when I’m fully immersed in that moment too, of course.

I’m not just talking about a romantic partner. I mean your people, your circle, the world, and yourself.

The Paradox: Advantage and Drawback

The drawback is that to reach this point, you’ve likely spent over half your life exploring other options, maybe searching for a shortcut that bypasses your full cognitive machinery. Let’s call them the easy routes: traveling, running away, experimenting, going with the flow… so close to the reptilian brain, so far from the frontal neocortex.

The advantage, though, is that to truly arrive, you didn’t need any of it. Not travels, not external experiences, not goals, not money—hell, not even health. You just had to know how to live it with what you already had. But that’s not easy. It demands solid internal scaffolding. And that requires a dense journey through fear, into the depths of yourself. Energetically exhausting.

Love as Proof

Proof that love per se works, even when you’re sick? I still try to make sense of all the love I had to give while lying in a hospital bed. With no health left, I had enough love for two or three worlds. I wanted to give it all, and for a moment, I feared I wouldn’t get the chance—that I’d be taken before I could pour it out. It was infinite. Bottomless. Inexplicable.

Since then, I’ve felt tiny beside the incredible people who keep appearing. Age doesn’t matter. Origins don’t matter. My love—and thus my admiration—is boundless. Pure joy.

Admiration as Fuel

These are people with enormous personal projects, whatever they may be:

  • I admire those who rescue little animals,
  • who emit that indescribable something when they sing,
  • who teach English,
  • who face shitty days with a smile,
  • who coach kids in after-school activities,
  • who’ve been my friends for over 40 years…

I never stop learning through admiration. It’s fulfilling. And none of this required money, globe-trotting, or grand ventures. It needed me. Not my dopamine, not my adrenaline—just my raw self, and of course, those quality humans.

The Instagram Illusion

On Instagram, I see inspirational quotes on repeat. That’s why they’re posted. But many don’t come from great adventurers (though some do). Or from grand exploits.

  • Plato didn’t travel.
  • Epictetus was enslaved.
  • The Dalai Lama didn’t learn his doctrine by leaving his monastery.
  • Mandela spent 20 years in prison.

Many of these icons of wisdom were travelers of a far more arduous journey than dangling from a cliff, hopping time zones, or a drunken night out.

The Missing Interior Work

Lately, I’ve noticed a scarcity—or outright absence—of this inner work, these cognitive structures, this necessary voyage. Any public ode to pride in one’s ignorance, worn as a badge of honor, is a slap to those who’ve spent lifetimes doing the interior labor of self-love.

Any contribution devoid of emotional or moral value sets off alarms about the gap between what a person needs and what they think they need.

The Chemical Trap

We’re chemistry—but do we need that addiction?

  • Some seek it in substances.
  • Some in likes.
  • Some in a roulette of reckless sex.
  • Some in unhealthy athletic extremes.

Tons of oxytocin, dopamine, adrenaline, endorphins—with zero quality input. They find it, absorb it, get their fix, and start over.

Lost in the Roller Coaster

So many people are disoriented. Lost in the highs and lows of this chemical roller coaster, if you can call it that.

  • Why chase dopamine by posting a video of defecating on a bed?
  • Why take pride in a growing list of sexual conquests?
  • Why pursue activities that defy survival itself?

It feels more like a cult of ego than a cult of Eros. More like chemical enslavement than chosen freedom.

My Choice

I love it all the same. But as my energy wanes with age, I’ve begun prioritizing people with denser frontal lobes. I thrive on understanding where those mental structures exist. I feel good admiring them. And ultimately, I’m nourished by perspectives from people who go beyond a charming, fun-but-hollow social media post—a plate of food, a silly dance, a cringeworthy night of drinking.

A matter of age and personal priorities. Or maybe that’s just how we Plutonians—or those of us who feel spatial, not special—are wired.

>VicenDominguez_