I’m inside a spaceship, surrounded by astronauts floating in the sterile, meticulously organized interior of the craft. Their clothing clean and white, the space filled with the hum of technology—wires, Velcro straps securing everything in place. I was one with them, secure, snug in a sense of order. As I turned, I noticed colorful, asteroid-like balls drifting toward me. Curious, I touched one.

Instantly, the scene shifted. The astronauts, having just returned from a successful space mission, were hugging and celebrating. I was there with them, caught up in joy, floating around in weightlessness. It was exhilarating. We were proud in our understanding of our interdependence and triumph. That scene dissolves and I’m once again surrounded by brightly colored balls. I touch one and this time I’m playing ball with the astronauts, running bases in zero gravity, dodging balls. Surreal, unexpected delight.

As that scene faded, I reached out to touch another ball. Suddenly, I was outside the spacecraft, suspended in the vastness of space. The shuttle loomed behind me; doors shut. The Earth beneath me turning, the moon above me still and bright, and I am utterly alone. Panic hit like a silent title wave. My heart raced; knees buckled; my body froze. There was no ground to anchor in. I was suspended, vulnerable, sweaty, breathless, and terrified. My hands wanted to flap so I could fly, but I could not move. I was still, going nowhere fast. Desperate, I began to call out for help. No one comes.

I then wake up but not in the usual sense, as this was not a dream. A gentle hand on my shoulder grounded me, and a kind voice invited me to remove my headset. When I did, I saw immediately that I wasn’t lost or along. But it wasn’t until I took off the headset that I could see the truth of the experience I was having. I, along with roughly 50 others, were in a dark domed room in virtual headsets, with roughly 250 lights on the floor representing the balls of light in the virtual experience. We had all been exploring the vastness of space through "The Infinite," a mind-blowing exhibit based on NASA’s Artemis mission. All of us, people from different walks in life, experiencing surprising versions of reality based on our choices, each immersive experience lasting no more than 30 seconds.

When I took off my virtual headset, I was slapped instantly into reality. Sobered and embarrassed, I wondered why I hadn't thought of taking off the blinders sooner. Some part of me knew I was in an immersive experience; I knew it wasn't real. But in a state of panic, I forgot that I could take my headset off. I forgot that this was an engineered experience. It felt absolute. I was engulfed, concentrated, desperate, overwhelmed. Convinced of what exactly, death? Fear trumped reasoning.

This experience has me reflecting on how often we humans get trapped in our perceptions and fears, convinced that what we see and believe is the whole, lasting, and only truth. Just as people can become absorbed in political views or personal ideologies and panic into absoluteness, we easily can lose ourselves in our beliefs and feel disconnected from reality. My reality in that moment of tightness and panic wasn’t the complete truth—just one experience among many.

Insight is often retrospective. As I grew in feeling more grounded, I realized the depth of this metaphor. We’re all in this dome of life, touching orbs—different experiences, perspectives, and beliefs. In the exhibit, there were over 250 orbs to choose from, yet I had only literally touched a handful of them. Such is life: In any given moment, we are only experiencing parts of an unfolding truth that we are all co-creating, realities we are choosing, all of which are brief and ever changing.

Awareness does not mean we will be panic free. I should know. I attended this exhibit twice and had a similar experience both times! Rather, awareness brings us into starkness with how things are and what's here now, whether it be fear or exhilaration. And it begs the question: Can we weather the humility of intense emotions that flood our body’s nervous system (those 30 hypothetical seconds) when facing realities beyond our conviction, control, or preferences?  Mindfulness practice offers a humbling and necessary reminder to pause, take a deep breath, and to open to the more beyond our proximate panic or fixation. Allow me to repeat: This is a practice!

As we navigate these intense political times of alternative facts, division, uncertainty, and great mystery, it’s helpful to remember that what we perceive as reality is a sliver of truth.  And sometimes, like in my experience, it requires that we take off the virtual headset, or to be willing to explore beyond the orbs we've touched, knowing that greater and more connecting realities are far more dynamic, multidimensional, and galactic than we can imagine.

Our choices in the upcoming election are both complex and clear. Vote in the direction of democracy and don't stop there. Continue to be an active part of a world we can all live and strive in.

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