In Between Worlds

There comes a point in life when we suddenly feel hollow.

The career, the family, the house, the expertise, and the intellectual mastery that once brought pride now don't feel the same. Yet, there’s an itch, a subtle discomfort that whispers: Is this all there is?

Let me share a dream I had many years ago, surprisingly just at the time I began to feel the itch.

I was in the kids’ swimming pool, on the floor because I can’t really swim. The water was shallow, familiar, and safe. Then I lowered my head beneath the surface and saw something extraordinary. From that tiny pool, a vast ocean appeared. Clear blue water stretched endlessly, as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking, and I wanted so badly to dive into it. But something stopped me. A stubborn fear of the unknown held me back.

I held tightly to the edge of the pool, feeling its solid reassurance as I slowly moved toward the exit. I couldn’t let go.

For three nights, I had the same dream. Each time, I found myself closer to the entrance of the ocean. On the third night, something shifted. I was right at the edge, staring into the endless blue, heart pounding with both fear and longing. Then, without fully deciding, I let go.

I dived.

To my surprise, I could breathe underwater. The fear I had carried with me disappeared, replaced by a sense of freedom so profound it felt unreal. Swimming wasn’t scary, it was exhilarating. Liberating. I felt weightless and alive in a way I hadn’t known was possible.

And when I let go, it became mine.

This is the experience of reaching a glass ceiling. It’s an invisible barrier, created not by external limits, but by an internal structure of thought.

For those who have always trusted reason and science as their guiding stars, this ceiling can feel inaccessible. The world beyond, one of intuition, spirituality, or even mystery, feels captivating but irrational, out of reach, or simply unproven.

The glass ceiling of the mind isn’t about lacking intelligence or success. It’s about being trapped in a framework where answers must always fit neatly into equations. For some, this limitation becomes a source of quiet desperation.

So, what if the sense of being stuck in between worlds isn’t a failure of reason but an invitation to expand it?

The western world prizes logic. From an early age, we are taught to dissect problems, solve equations, and prove our claims. This rational mindset has fueled incredible progress, from the scientific revolution to the age of technology. But it has also, for some, crowded out a different kind of knowing: intuition, mystery, and the ability to embrace uncertainty.

This imbalance can leave people feeling torn. They are too rational to embrace spirituality but too restless to remain in pure logic. Their internal compass pulls them toward something beyond reason, yet their worldview tells them that step is a leap into nonsense.

This tension creates the glass ceiling, an invisible barrier in the mind that says, “I can’t go further because there’s nothing real beyond this point.” Or, as my dear friend casually put it over lunch yesterday, “There’s no such thing as energy; it’s all just futons.”

It’s a way of thinking that feels safe but suffocating, protective but ultimately confining. And yet, it's science itself that offers the clues for how we might begin to bridge this divide!

In epigenetics, for instance, we’ve learned that our genes are not unchangeable. While DNA provides the blueprint, it’s our environment, thoughts, and behaviors that influence which genes get expressed. Bruce Lipton, a pioneer in this field, suggests that our perceptions, how we interpret our environment, can activate or suppress specific genes. Could it be that a rigid belief in logic as the sole truth is itself a kind of stressor, locking us into a particular state of being?

Then there’s quantum physics, which has shown us that reality is far more ambiguous than we once thought. Particles behave as waves until observed, at which point they collapse into a single state. This duality, wave and particle, suggests that the universe itself doesn’t abide to our strict either/or frameworks. Instead, it invites us to consider both/and.

Niels Bohr, the father of quantum mechanics, once said, “The opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth.” What if our strict attachment to logic and science is one profound truth, and the intuitive, mysterious, or spiritual realm is another? What if both creates the real truth?

Living in between worlds is uncomfortable. It’s the space where certainty fades, and the questions feel bigger than the answers. But it’s also the space where growth happens. Just as a seed must crack open in darkness before it grows, so too must the rigid structures of our minds soften for us to expand.

This in-between state isn’t about abandoning science or embracing spirituality wholesale. It’s about recognizing that both have value and that being curious is more important than being certain.

Neuroplasticity, my favorite subject, is the brain’s ability to rewire itself, shows us that openness to new ideas literally reshapes our minds. Awareness, then, is a biological act of expansion.

One of the most challenging aspects of breaking through the glass ceiling of the mind is learning to sit with paradox. In our everyday lives, we’re used to resolving conflicts, choosing sides, and seeking clarity. But life itself is rarely so clear-cut.

Take Schr?dinger’s cat, a thought experiment from quantum physics. The cat in the box is both alive and dead until observed. It’s a paradox, a state that defies logic but is nonetheless true. Could the same be said of our inner worlds? Could we be both rational and intuitive, both grounded in science and open to the unexplainable?

Rumi, the 13th-century poet, captured this beautifully: “Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?”

Awareness doesn’t solve the discomfort (you also need logic and sense) of the in-between, but it allows us to see it for what it is, a fertile space for growth. When we become aware of our glass ceilings, we stop mistaking them for walls.

This awareness starts with curiosity. Instead of asking, “What’s the right answer?” we can ask, “What am I not seeing?” Instead of demanding proof, we can explore possibilities. Awareness isn’t about abandoning logic but about expanding it to include the mysteries we can’t yet explain.

History is full of individuals who navigated this space. Einstein, though a scientist, often spoke of a sense of wonder that bordered on the spiritual. “The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious,” he said. Bruce Lipton, mentioned earlier, found a bridge between science and spirituality through his work in epigenetics. And countless others, artists, scientists, philosophers, have shown that embracing the unknown doesn’t dilute logic; it enriches it.

The glass ceiling of the mind isn’t a dead end. It’s a mirror, reflecting both our limitations and our potential. It invites us to question, to reflect, and to expand. Breaking through doesn’t mean choosing one world over another. It means embracing both, recognizing that life is full of paradoxes, and that growth often happens in the discomfort of the in-between.

I found myself in this space, know that you are not alone. The journey is not about (only) finding answers but about opening doors. And in doing so, we may discover that the ceiling was never as solid as it seemed.