Feeling Disconnected from Life? Maybe It’s Time to Rethink Your Beliefs and Philosophy

Lately, I’ve been trying to write not to prove something, not to convert, and definitely not to market. I’m writing because I’m usually annoyed or stirred up by something. Something about philosophy has been getting under my skin and thinking more deeply about life. So on LinkedIn I follow a lot of philosopher types rather than psychology types. Luis de Miranda’s ideas have gotten under my skin in a good way, and I want to think out loud with you. This post isn’t going to give you advice, but it will surely give you some great philosophical questions to ask about your life and journal about. And if you are someone considering working with me, I want you to know what goes on in my thinking as you are deciding about fit.

I think we need more places for unfinished thoughts to live, breathe, and be responded to—not as brands, but as human ponderings. So that’s what this is. I’m sharing because I need to hear myself. And maybe you do, too.

I’ve been sniffing around the work of Luis de Miranda lately. He’s a philosopher living in Sweden who talks about embodiment, belonging, the nature of the self, and this thing he calls philosophical health. Gah he’s got me thinking and wanting to shell out some cash and time to take his training.

Before we play, let me give you a little more substance about de Miranda’s ideas. His work isn’t just poetic, it’s precise. And it might change how you think about therapy, self-help, or even your identity.

1. Philosophical Health and the “Creal” De Miranda coined the term "Crealism"—a blend of “creation” and “real”—to describe a way of seeing life as something always in the making. He’s into how we create meaning rather than just find it or break it down. I am thinking a lot about that per my disclaimer about how I use AI these days. How does AI change how I create meaning? The Creal isn’t just a theory—it’s a way of seeing. Instead of boiling life down to fixed truths or categories, it invites us to see life as dynamic, surprising, and shaped by our relationships. This bit reminds me a ton of Dr. Dan Siegel’s “MWe” ideas about the mind. And other De Miranda ideas remind me of adrienne maree brown’s work—see Emergent Strategy or Holding Change.

He contrasts Crealism with the kind of reductionism that shows up in therapy and psychiatry—where people get reduced to diagnoses, behaviors, or trauma stories. That flattening drives me nuts. It’s everywhere now: TikTok therapy, “you’re gaslighting me,” and other quick-fix labels that turn therapy into a checklist. But reckoning with your soul is rarely simple or cheap. That’s why I’m digging into more philosophical stuff. There’s a quote I love from Philosophical Health: A Manifesto: “A person is not reducible to a neuron, a social construct, or a trauma. A person is a possibility.”

Honestly, I’m not mad that AI is starting to take over the fix-it therapy stuff. Let it. Maybe then therapy can return to what it’s best at—soul work. I think people are craving that more than ever.

2. Philosophical Health De Miranda talks about something he calls "philosophical health." I love a good deep-thinking therapist or philosopher, but a lot of them make my brain hurt. De Miranda, though, feels more grounded. He’s pointing to something real: people suffer when they haven’t examined what they truly believe about life—not just the stuff they say, but the beliefs they live by.

He says most therapists haven’t been trained to help folks explore those questions. And that checks out. He even has a training program for it, which I’ve been poking around. Philosophical health is about understanding your worldview and learning how to talk about it—not to impress anyone, but to make better sense of your life.

Right now, it feels like we’re all just absorbing pre-packaged belief systems—political, spiritual, or otherwise—without much room to actually explore and be honest with ourselves. I think about this a lot because this way of living makes me feel incredibly lonely and I wonder if that is the case for other people. So when de Miranda says, “We are not just cognitive machines in need of repair—we are thinkers in need of dialogue,” my whole body says YES. We need space to talk about what we value and think about life, without fear of being shunned. That’s part of being a healthy human.

3. Embodiment & Belonging Another reason I’m into de Miranda’s work? He doesn’t treat the body like it’s just a meat suitcase for the brain. This isn’t new to me—I’ve been on the embodiment path since grad school—but it’s cool to see a philosopher in that heady world naming it. For him, thinking isn’t just cerebral. It’s something you feel in your body. Your whole being is involved in how you understand the world.

Belonging, too, isn’t just about being liked. He’s talking about the kind of belonging where your way of being actually fits somewhere—where it’s seen and welcomed. And when that kind of belonging is missing, it messes with us. I’ve seen it in my therapy practice again and again. He says we suffer when our ways of being aren’t mirrored or accepted by others or by the systems around us. I think our polarized world shrinks the spaces where we can belong. I know it has for me as complexity junkie.

4. Dialogic Inquiry (Talking About Stuff in a Humble Questioning Way) as Therapy De Miranda sees therapy as a kind of ongoing conversation—not someone telling you what’s wrong, but two people making sense of life together. He draws from philosophical traditions that treat dialogue as care. “Real therapy,” he says, “isn’t about managing symptoms—it’s about making sense together.”

Let me be clear: I’m not trained in his approach. Yet. But I’m seriously considering it. What he’s saying taps into something I’ve felt for a long time—that therapy without space to reckon with our beliefs and values starts to feel like emotional duct tape.

So what if, instead of always trying to fix ourselves, we asked better questions? What if we slowed down and got more curious about what we actually believe?

Let’s play.

Here are some prompts inspired by de Miranda’s work. Light a candle, bring your weird self, and journal about each one of these. See how it feels afterward.

1. What do I think life is for? Not what you should think. What do you actually believe in the quiet moments when no one’s watching?

2. Where do I feel like I truly belong, and why? If belonging is medicine, what places, people, or ideas have been healing for you? And which ones have been poison dressed up as purpose?

3. What’s the story I’ve been telling myself about who I am? Where did that story come from? Is it still true? Are you ready to remix it?

4. Who taught me how to suffer? And did they do a good job? Yeah. That one. A lot of psychological struggle is about avoiding what feels too big to feel.

5. What part of me is asking this question right now? Your inner philosopher? Your inner child? Your inner protector? Start a dialogue. You might be surprised who answers.

6. What do I secretly wish the world believed more of? Let it be tender or silly or strange. There’s probably something sacred in it.

7. When do I feel most like myself? Think places, people, textures, times of day. Then ask—why?

8. What’s something I’ve never said out loud because I didn’t think it was “smart enough”? Say it now. In writing. Then sit with what shows up.

9. What idea have I outgrown but keep pretending still fits? It might be a belief, a role, a spiritual frame, or even a friendship script.

10. Who do I become when I feel safe enough to not be liked? Just go there. Let your pen be honest, not nice. What's possible in me when I stop performing for approval? What do I act like? What parts of me come out?

I don’t know if I’ll take Luis de Miranda’s training yet, but I’m already letting his ideas shake something loose in me despite already leaning this way as therapist but I am hungry for more. If you’re someone who wants therapy to go deeper than symptoms—to touch your soul—we might be walking the same path.

So tell me. What do you believe? And who helped you believe it?

Let’s not be so sure of ourselves. Let’s get more curious. Let’s make philosophy weird and embodied again.