From Oneness to Wholeness

Unexpected challenges in my life in 2020 became a turning point.

Instead of simply accepting everything I had previously believed, I began to search.

I researched.

I questioned.

I reflected.

I explored ideas and perspectives I had once been afraid to approach.

And slowly, I began asking a different kind of question:

“Do I believe this because I have consciously examined it and chosen it — or because it was given to me before I knew I had a choice?”

That question changed something in me.

I began recognizing how certain beliefs had influenced not only what I believed about God, but also how I saw myself.

Some had contributed to fear.

Some to guilt.

Some to shame.

Some to self-doubt.

Some to a feeling of limitation.

And the more consciously I examined those beliefs, the more I began separating what had shaped me from what I actually wanted to continue carrying.

At one point in this transformation, an image came to me that helped me understand what I was experiencing.

I imagined myself as a clear glass of water submerged beneath an enormous ocean.

The water inside the glass represented me — my inner self, my spirit, my potential.

The ocean surrounding it represented something much larger: the Divine, the Universe, connection, possibility, love, and the vastness of existence.

The water was never truly far from the ocean.

But the glass created a boundary.

I began imagining that glass as the layers I had accumulated throughout my life:

Fear.

Shame.

Guilt.

Self-doubt.

Judgment.

Restriction.

Limitation.

Expectations about who I was supposed to be.

Layer after layer had made the glass feel thicker.

And eventually, I had begun experiencing myself as though I were only what existed inside that small container.

The ocean was still there.

I simply could not experience my connection to it.

That metaphor became deeply meaningful to me.

As I questioned more deeply, some of those layers began losing their power over me.

I started to feel lighter.

I became less afraid of asking questions.

I became more comfortable making choices for myself.

I began recognizing strength within myself that I had previously looked for outside myself.

And perhaps most importantly, I began experiencing a kind of peace that I had spent much of my life searching for somewhere else.

At that point in my journey, I described what I was experiencing as oneness.

I felt an extraordinary connection between myself, God, the Universe, and the people around me.

The separation I had experienced for so long seemed to disappear.

At the time, I expressed that realization very strongly. I wrote that I was not simply part of the Universe — that I was the Universe. I described feeling that there was no separation between myself and the Divine.

Those words reflected the intensity and truth of my experience at that moment in my life.

And that experience became an important part of the birth of Hasti.

The word Hasti carries a meaning that has always felt powerful to me.

In Persian, it connects to existence and being — “I am. I exist.”

For me, those words became much more than a definition.

They became a declaration.

I exist.

I am here.

I have power within me.

For much of my life, I had looked outside myself for permission, answers, direction, and certainty.

My transformation taught me that I could also look within.

That did not mean I suddenly had every answer.

It meant I was finally willing to take responsibility for asking the questions.

Over time, my glass-and-ocean metaphor evolved.

I realized that even the difficult layers I wanted to release had played a role in shaping me.

My struggles.

My fear.

My self-doubt.

My past beliefs.

The experiences I once wished I could erase.

They were part of my story.

And I began thinking of myself not simply as something trapped inside a glass, but as a crystal shaped through everything I had experienced.

That distinction became important.

Transformation did not require me to hate my past.

I did not need to reject the woman I had once been.

She was part of me.

Her beliefs, questions, mistakes, struggles, courage, and experiences helped create the person I became.

But something can shape us without needing to control the rest of our lives.

“Our past can explain us without owning our future.”

Some layers may have served a purpose.

And when they no longer do, we are allowed to examine them, learn from them, and decide whether we still want to carry them.

As my fear of questioning diminished, I began exploring spiritual teachings and perspectives outside the tradition in which I had been raised.

That exploration itself was significant for me.

For much of my earlier life, questioning beliefs outside what I had been taught felt frightening or even forbidden.

Now I wanted to understand for myself.

One idea became particularly meaningful to me: the difference between learning from someone and surrendering your own ability to think.

Teachers can guide us.

Books can teach us.

Religions, philosophies, cultures, parents, mentors, and communities can offer wisdom.

But I came to believe that growth eventually requires something more:

“We have to learn to stand on our own feet.”

A meaningful teacher should not make us permanently dependent on the teacher.

Just as a child eventually learns to walk independently, there comes a point when we must examine what we have learned and decide how we will live it.

For me, this became another expression of personal power.

Not rejecting every teacher.

Not believing I know everything.

But no longer surrendering responsibility for my own life and beliefs to someone else.

As I experienced more peace within myself, something else changed.

I felt more connected to other people.

I became less interested in proving that someone else had to see the world exactly as I did.

The peace I had been searching for was becoming less dependent on everyone around me agreeing with me.

And this became one of the foundations of Hasti.

I began imagining what might happen if more people could experience greater peace within themselves.

Could we disagree without becoming enemies?

Could we belong to different religions, cultures, political perspectives, or philosophies and still recognize one another's humanity?

Could we stop needing everyone to become the same before we could feel connected?

Those questions expanded my personal transformation into something larger.

“Change Within. Impact Beyond.”

There is something important I understand today that I did not understand as clearly when I first wrote about this experience.

When we experience a powerful transformation, it can be tempting to believe that what we discovered must also be the answer for everyone else.

I don't see Hasti that way anymore.

My spiritual experience belongs to me.

My understanding of God belongs to me.

My interpretation of oneness belongs to me.

Someone else may understand God differently.

Someone may practice a religion that remains deeply meaningful to them.

Someone may understand spirituality differently.

Someone may not believe in God at all.

“Hasti does not require us to arrive at the same answer.”

In fact, that realization has become one of the most important parts of my journey.

The freedom I wanted for myself must also include the freedom for someone else to reach a completely different conclusion.

I don't want to replace one set of beliefs people are expected to follow with another.

I want to encourage something different:

Awareness. Questioning. Choice.

I still love the glass and ocean metaphor.

I still believe deeply in the peace and connection I experienced.

And oneness remains an important part of my story.

But today, another word speaks to me too:

Wholeness.

Wholeness does not require me to erase where I came from.

It does not require me to reject every belief I once held.

And it does not require me to become the same as everyone else.

It means becoming conscious of what shaped me.

Understanding it.

Keeping what still feels true.

Questioning what no longer does.

Releasing what no longer serves me.

And consciously participating in who I become next.

Perhaps the glass was never something I needed to hate.

Perhaps I simply needed to see it.

Because once we can see what is shaping us, we can begin deciding whether it should continue shaping where we go next.

I once thought awakening meant arriving at an answer.

Today, I think it may mean becoming willing to continue asking questions.

I am still learning.

Still questioning.

Still changing.

Still revisiting things I once believed.

Still discovering new parts of myself.

And that is not a contradiction of my journey.

“That is my journey.”

Hasti itself has changed because I have changed.

What began as my search for freedom and oneness has grown into a broader invitation:

Understand what shaped you.

Recognize the power within you.

Question what is no longer working.

Choose what still feels true.

Rewrite what needs to change.

And build consciously from there.

You do not need to believe what I believe to consider the question that changed my life.

Ask yourself:

What beliefs have shaped the way I see myself and my life?

Which of them still feel true to me?

Which ones may be keeping me in fear, guilt, limitation, or patterns I no longer want?

What am I ready to revisit?

And who do I choose to become from here?

You don't need to answer everything today.

Sometimes transformation begins simply by becoming willing to look at the glass.

And then deciding what comes next.

Change Within. Impact Beyond.

Written by Asma Mohrsab

Originally published August 8, 2025 · Revisited in 2026