amaira
- Goutham Yegappan
- Sep 5
- 6 min read
Amaira (noun)
uh-MY-rah
The state of vivid aliveness and presence that arises when no clear path lies ahead, where one must move forward through uncertainty, holding each moment as truth. It is the vitality born from not knowing, when the present becomes the sole ground of existence, dissolving the weight of past and future.
My journey being a vagabond/nomad/unhoused idiot started in 2020 when my friend invited me to work remotely from Hawaii, replacing fake backgrounds of serene beaches on Zoom with the real deal. With no plan or expectation, I strapped on my Boy Scouts backpack, which I found collecting dust in my garage, summoning my remaining few brain cells after a grueling four long years at UCSD, and got on a flight to Oahu. The high of recently graduating had dissipated quickly due to the confusion caused by the pandemic, so spending time searching for answers felt like the next best step.
After nearly 16 straight years in a highly structured schooling system, I got my first taste of true physical, mental, and spiritual freedom on that island. Left to my own means I was able to redefine what it meant to be me. So what did I do with this newfound freedom? I jumped out of a plane screaming for my life, went scuba diving in extremely deep waters without any training, I rode around in a moped without a helmet, unintentionally hanging out with two escorts who I ended up spending the whole night talking about education. I jumped off of cliffs into bodies of water that were questionable to say the lease, spending Christmas completely covered in mud trying to complete a hike in the middle of a storm and spent New Years on a random beach meeting locals and watching the stars, sand transfused in every crevice of my body. Freedom in the hands of the youthful mind, is perhaps why structure was built in the first place.
Though these decisions now seem a little outlandish, I had spent so much of my life up to that point suffocated by my internal fears. I was truly afraid of how profoundly random and uncertain the world was.
What if that person who sat across from me on the bus stole my bag? Let me just drive and walk everywhere. What if my knees dislocate again when I’m hiking over this log? Let me just stay at home. What if no one will ever employ me and I end up sleeping on an intersection in downtown Manhattan? Let me work jobs I absolutely despise for people I despised even more.
Each fear provided the mold for a life I could barely stand to live through anymore. I still remember the countdown calendar I had hung up on my wall, eagerly counting the days until I would leave home. But naively, I had believed then that the forces that I had wanted to get away from was my parents. But now in retrospect, it is clear that it was never about them, but instead the structure and rigidity that existed in those environments. The crushing nature of stability is one that is often quiet and subtle, slowly oozing the life of anyone who unknowingly falls into its slumber.
But in Hawaii, for the first time, I was able to breathe. Rather than trembling at the mercy of uncertainty’s crushing grip, I allowed myself to exist with it. Its presence accompanied me everywhere I went, but instead of fearing what could happen, I responded with excitement. I spoke to every stranger, I placed my trust in my body and the people around me, I slept wherever I could find a little bit of silence, and began to confront the false limitations others had instilled in me. In Hawaii, uncertainty was transformed from something that was debilitating, into something that became the very canvas upon which authentic and genuine living can be crafted.
Since that trip, my life has consisted of repeatedly forcing myself into that uncertainty. I lived with my friend in Santa Barbara, then travelled to San Diego, Mexico City, D.C, England, France, Italy, Maryland and Virginia, India and Puerto Rico, then to Switzerland, Japan, Thailand, Peru and then back to New York. Sprinkling in 3 cross country road trips, months of camping, and long nights in my car. My back has not felt the comfort of returning to same bed in years.
During these tumultuous years, though I felt so free in my mind, I heard every possible critique about my way of life. Every family friend, friend of a family, family of a friend, friend of a friend, family of a family would pass along their doubts and fears on to me. Envy and insecurity disguised as care. Each person would judge, as if they were the ultimate validation I yearned for. Insert you’re not my dad meme here.
As the comments piled on top of each other, doubt as doubt does, began to leak into my mind. Maybe I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Eventually the doubts clawed their way deeply enough that I found myself finding a sublet in Boston for a month. To be precise Lowell, Massachusetts. What the fuck am I doing here? A bird screeching earnestly, searching for a way out, terrified that its wings have been permanently damaged.
This period in Boston represents a misguided attempt of mine to try to live a life that was never meant for me. One of stability, routine, and predictability. One where I wake up and know where to go, when to go, and how often to go. I know who to talk to and what I see. I close myself off from the random, and find refuge in the safe. Yay. I’m doing it!
Stability was the thing everyone told me I needed to feel complete. Then why is it that for the first time in months, I find myself contemplating how meaningless this all is again? I’m reminded of the peace that comes as one finally takes a breath peering off the edge of the bridge. Feeling their toes tingling and the breeze ruffle their hair ever so slightly. Things they had taken for granted, come to the forefront of their consciousness as they experience true aliveness in the face of death.
When one is lost in the uncertainty of life each moment feels as if it is the end of an eternity. Each day is an adventure on its own, sleep representing the passing away of the current self, giving rise to another the following day. The presence that one can find in these moments are a direct consequence of the awareness that arises only when one is perceptive that the end is near.
In this journey I have found these aspects of uncertainty to be deeply unexplored and shared. Certainty is always afforded the privilege of being associated with peace and the “right” way to go about life, for it makes those around you feel safe. It allows them to never have to truly appreciate you until they find themselves racking through their mind writing your eulogy wondering where all the time went. Praying for just one more day to be with you.
But for me, the experience of amaira in the midst of uncertainty is where I have found my peace. It is where I have learned to sit with what it truly means to be human. To experience the ever-changing nature of this life, and to surrender to the random. I wanted to create this word for those of us who also find stability to be nauseating. For those who experience uncertainty as the vivid reminder of presence and aliveness. Through amaira I hope to expand the conversation around what a meaningful life can look like, moving past resorting to simple modern expectations of high levels of predictability and safety, to a place where uncertainty can also be valued and appreciated.
Examples
Waking up in a city he had never been to, with no plan and no expectations, he was afraid of what the day might hold, yet he felt a euphoric sense of amaira as he took a deep breath and rolled out of bed.
When her grandmother passed away, even in the throes of grief, she experienced brief moments of amaira, when she felt deeply present with her volatile emotional states.
Although he didn’t believe in a higher power, every time he experienced amaira he felt connected to the world in a way he could only describe as spiritual.
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