What If Your Life Is a Journey Your Soul Chose?
Finding purpose, freedom, and spiritual growth in the age of artificial intelligence
By Dr. David Park · Scalar Nature Medicine / Zen-Acu
When life does not go as we hoped, we often speak of fate. Some traditions suggest that the direction of a life is given at birth, as though our birth date were a barcode containing the outline of our future.
I would like to ask a different question.
What if life were not simply a destiny imposed on us, but a journey we had chosen for the growth of the soul?
This essay explores that question as a spiritual perspective. It does not seek to establish the afterlife or reincarnation as scientific facts. Instead, it offers a way of looking at our lives with greater spaciousness, freedom, and care.
Why would a soul come to the school of Earth?
Within this spiritual outlook, the soul returns to a peaceful realm when bodily life ends: a place without hunger, material scarcity, or the conflicts that arise when people cannot understand one another. It is the abundant rest we often imagine when we speak of heaven.
Why, then, would a soul leave that peace and return to the difficulties of earthly life? In the perspective I am exploring, learning and growth are central to the answer.
Understanding a concept and living it are different experiences. Knowing about patience is not the same as waiting patiently. Understanding love is not the same as loving someone who is different from us. Courage becomes more than an idea when we take a step while feeling afraid.
Earth, in this sense, is a school where understanding becomes experience. Through a body, within limited time, and in relationship with others, we learn.
Heaven is perfect, but boring
Imagine a heaven where everything is provided and nothing is lacking. There is no hunger, no anxiety about making a living, and no need to compete for necessities. At first, how comforting and wonderful that would be.
But imagine spending not a day or two, but a year, ten years, or an immeasurable span of time there. If there were truly nothing new to discover, nothing to learn, and no possibility of development, perfection could become monotonous.
The phrase “heaven is perfect, but boring” is a paradox, not a claim to know the conditions of an afterlife. It asks whether a life without scarcity would still need growth and meaning.
In the spiritual story I wish to share, a soul seeks earthly experience because rest alone is not the whole journey. It comes to understand more deeply and to become more capable of love.
This does not mean suffering is necessary for growth. Friendship, creativity, play, curiosity, and kindness can also help us grow. What matters is not deprivation itself, but our willingness to learn from experience. The school of life has more than difficult examinations. It also has laughter, companionship, and excursions into beauty.
If AI brings abundance, what will human beings live for?
This question is becoming relevant in a different way as artificial intelligence develops. Artificial general intelligence, or AGI, refers to broadly capable intelligence across intellectual tasks. Artificial superintelligence, or ASI, refers to intelligence that substantially exceeds human intellectual capabilities. These concepts frame discussions of how future technology might transform research, production, and daily life.
Suppose AI eventually assists with much of the work required to sustain our lives, and its benefits are widely shared. The pressure to earn enough to survive might become much lighter. Life could become more comfortable and abundant—perhaps resembling, in some respects, the heaven we have imagined.
Technology alone does not guarantee that outcome. Institutions, distribution, and human choices matter. Let us consider such a future as a thought experiment, rather than a promise.
If making a living were no longer our central struggle, what would we get up for in the morning?
Would the disappearance of economic hardship also mean the disappearance of meaning? If work were no longer a condition of survival, would there be nothing left for human beings to do?
I believe the question of purpose would become clearer, not less important. We would have to consider not only what we must do to survive, but what we want to do with our freedom and who we wish to become.
Loving more deeply, discovering something new, expressing beauty, and caring for another person do not lose their value when life becomes easier. Even if AI produces an impressive painting, the discovery I experience while painting remains my own. An answer obtained quickly does not replace the process of understanding it and putting it into practice.
As technology enriches the means of living, we need to think more deeply about the purpose of living.
We need not wait for a distant future to begin. While meeting our practical responsibilities, we can ask today: What do I value? Where do I want to invest my time and attention? In what direction do I wish to grow?
A life whose design I helped shape
Some spiritual traditions describe a soul planning the broad direction of its next life with guides before birth. In that account, the soul participates in choosing experiences and relationships through which it hopes to develop.
I find a possible change of perspective in this idea.
When difficulty arrives, we naturally ask, “Why did this happen to me?” There is nothing wrong with that question, or with feeling pain. When we are ready, however, another question may sit beside it:
“What might I learn from this experience?”
That question cannot change what has happened. It can change how we relate to what happens next. We may discover a boundary where we thought only a wound remained, or find a more suitable direction on a road we had called a failure.
This perspective should never be used to tell someone that illness, violence, or loss was their choice and must simply be endured. It is a personal language for reflection, not a basis for judging another person's suffering.
Life as a learning simulation
Another metaphor I find useful is a simulation. Here, I do not mean that living in a virtual world is an established scientific conclusion. I mean a philosophical image of a setting in which a soul experiences, chooses, and grows.
If this life were a learning environment whose design our souls had helped shape, could we meet it with more curiosity?
When learning a game, we do not expect to master every stage immediately. We lose our way, try another approach, and develop skills through mistakes. One unsuccessful attempt does not make our entire identity a failure. We consider what to try next and participate again.
We can bring some of that attitude into daily life. Alongside “Why has this happened again?” we can ask, “What is there to learn here?” An unfamiliar encounter may teach understanding. A disrupted plan may invite flexibility. A joyful moment may teach us to receive joy fully.
The metaphor does not make real pain or consequences trivial. Our feelings, relationships, and actions matter. It simply helps us avoid allowing a single scene to occupy our entire inner world. We can take part wholeheartedly without constantly punishing ourselves.
A larger direction does not erase today's choices
Does believing in a larger design mean every event is an unchangeable script?
I think of a journey. Even with a destination and something we hope to learn, how we walk and how we treat our companions still matter. A school may have a curriculum, but a student's questions and participation shape the learning.
What we can release is the strain of trying to control everything.
We can do what is needed without gripping every outcome. We can make a sincere effort and then allow ourselves room to breathe. We can seek help or leave a harmful situation. We can refuse to judge an entire life by one result.
Frantic striving and sincere effort are not the same. We can loosen our grip and still live responsibly.
At a crossroads, do your part—and entrust the rest to heaven
To someone facing a difficult situation, uncertain about life's direction, or unable to decide between important alternatives, I would offer this thought:
When you have done what you reasonably can, entrust the rest to heaven.
When the mind feels crowded, begin with a sheet of paper. Write down what has actually happened. Separate established facts from fears about the future and from your interpretations. Putting a situation into words can make its next steps easier to see.
Then distinguish what you can do from what you cannot determine on your own. Gathering information, asking for help, communicating clearly, and preparing carefully may be your responsibility. Another person's feelings and final decisions, the past, and every variable of the future are not yours to command.
Among the actions available to you, identify those that are urgent and important. Write not only what you will do, but how: whom you will contact, what you will prepare, and when you will act. Turn a large problem into manageable steps.
Record the facts. Separate the situation from fears and assumptions.
Identify your part. Distinguish available actions from what you cannot control.
Set priorities. Make a practical plan for urgent and important matters.
Take action. Do what you can today and seek help when needed.
Entrust the rest. Set any necessary follow-up date, then allow yourself to rest and live in the meantime.
Doing your best does not mean exhausting yourself with endless possibilities. It means acting responsibly with the information and capacity you have now.
The effort is mine to make. The entire outcome is not mine to control.
My actions influence the future, but they do not determine every part of it. Recognizing that boundary creates room for peace.
I call this entrusting the rest to heaven or to God. Someone with a different outlook might understand it as accepting uncertainty and trusting life's unfolding. It means releasing the attempt to control what exceeds our power while continuing to meet our responsibilities.
“I have done what I can. What I cannot determine now, I entrust to heaven.”
Then rest. Take a walk, eat a meal, laugh with someone you love, and enjoy something available today. If new information arrives or another action becomes necessary, do your part again. The time spent waiting need not be filled entirely with anxiety.
Look at your life from the mountain
Standing in a narrow village lane, we may see only the wall in front of us. From a mountain, houses, roads, fields, and rivers become part of a larger landscape. A route we could not see from below may come into view.
Life can feel like that too. Today's disappointment, another person's judgment, or a single argument may seem to be everything. Across the span of a life, however, it is one scene among many. A difficult scene does not make the whole story a failure.
When resentment, anger, tension, or frustration fills the mind, take a step back if you can. There is no need to blame yourself for having those feelings. Simply try not to let them become the only viewpoint from which you see your life.
Ask: Is this event my whole life? What value do I want to protect? What kind of person do I wish to become as I move through this?
A wider view does not instantly solve a problem. It creates space between the problem and our response. In that space, we can breathe and choose.
Spiritual growth appears in ordinary moments
Spiritual evolution may sound grand, but it can appear in simple situations: pausing before speaking in anger, trying to understand rather than defeat someone, admitting a mistake without hating ourselves, expressing affection, or offering practical help.
If we become a little more honest, generous, and less afraid of ourselves and others, that too is growth.
From this perspective, a life's value is not measured only by possessions or status. What we understood, how we loved, and what qualities we cultivated matter as well.
Live deeply within the time you have
Our time on Earth is finite. A lighter heart and a serious appreciation of each day belong together. Living with ease need not mean passing through life carelessly. Releasing some tension may help us pay fuller attention to the person before us and the work in our hands.
I hope we use this precious time well. Let us not dismiss a task because it is familiar or take a person for granted because they are close. Listening carefully, completing a responsibility with care, and apologizing sincerely can all become opportunities to grow.
Joy can teach gratitude and generosity. Difficult relationships may teach understanding and necessary boundaries. A changed plan may teach flexibility, and receiving help may teach humility. We need not force an immediate lesson out of every experience. Some meanings become visible only after rest and time.
At the end of a day, we can gently ask: What did I learn? Whom did I understand a little better? What would I like to do differently next time?
Reflecting on experience and carrying that understanding into our actions is what I mean by spiritual growth.
May our limited time become more than a sequence of days passed. May encounters and ordinary experiences help us understand more deeply, love more generously, and grow inwardly.
Walk with the ease of a picnic
If life is a journey of learning, perhaps we can walk a little more lightly. I like the image of a picnic: we have come to learn, but we need not postpone laughter and enjoyment until every lesson is complete.
On an outing, reaching the destination is not our only concern. We notice a flower, feel the breeze, and speak with our companions. If it rains, we pause. If we lose our way, we find another direction. Those moments belong to the journey too.
We do not have to solve everything immediately. We may still have experiences we do not understand. We can grieve when we are sad and rest when we are tired. Peace does not have to wait until every difficulty disappears.
I see life as a journey of spiritual growth. That outlook helps me participate more deeply in reality without being overwhelmed by it.
As artificial intelligence develops and material conditions change, how we use our lives will remain an important question. Comfort cannot decide what we value, whom we care for, or who we wish to become.
Give your care to what you can do, and entrust what you cannot control to heaven. Learn with the curiosity of a player and travel with the ease of someone enjoying a picnic.
That is why I write this essay: in the hope that our days may feel a little less harsh and a little less heavy. May we see life as a journey in which we can learn, discover, and sometimes simply enjoy ourselves, rather than an endless examination we must struggle to pass.
May we walk through our own lives today with a slightly lighter step.