But see, we need someone to know our fears, someone to share with our hopes, someone to whom paint our thoughts... Yet not someone to repair us... Not someone to solve all our riddles, those who have solved some, it's probably because they had a part to draw in our paths, and why not a simple incident, not a guarantee that we were meant to be deciphered!

We're just as the many wonders we found on Earth, they might need to be solved, but not that they ought to be solved...

So take care dear, you can hope but not expect for too much, for as the same unease that comes with not being understood, also comes a thousand times more bitter if one is once miserably fully understood... Are the gods now happier since we understood that they can forgive though sometimes acting monsters? Or...

Is the metal then enjoying that the smith can shape it all ? Since understood that it can be worked?

Somewhere when given a place to be understood, will rise the need to be approved, and our loads to be comforted, the pressure for our characters to be appreciated, the urges to be heard, perceived and considered... None of these is untrue, though, because with the desire to be understood comes a chaos of million other obsessions, that we'll never get as expected and that we'll spend the rest of our lives dying for...

Because we're just like artworks, we'll never be deciphered... Everytime we'll think that we're understood, we'll only realize that we just were being interpreted... And never really comprehended.

Be it fits, take care, we still can need to be understood, without only living for being understood...

Somewhere, the quietly misunderstood is better understood than the one tirelessly fighting to be understood...

Would we even care of how fair things are to us and wonder how unfair it can be to others?

Oh dear, make it a little bit fair...that you're happy without mocking the sad... Or that as you're happy you try share it with the sad...

That you're richer without devouring the poorer... Or that as you're richer you try blessing the poorer...

That you're accompanied without disregarding the one who feel lonelier...

Or that as you're accompanied, you try accompanying the other who feel lonelier...

And if we give the fair we got to those who fail to feel it as fairer as they wished it was... Know dear, that giving what we can has already made it fair somewhere... We only can't fill others's worlds, but we still can be one to add a presence inside...

Or else, bother to make it fair, then let them choose whether make it fairer for themselves or continue wishing without acting...

The fair can be given to anyone, but not taken as fair as expected to everyone...

And who are we to impose what should be fair to others only because it is to us! If the poorer can be helped as fairer as one could, but still his cup doesn't feel filled... Or if the lonely can have someone loving them and still can't feel it warm enough to be that loved...

Here, we aren't coerced to execute a task, nor propelled to act contrarily to our own will, but still we feel indirectly pressured, we find ourselves in plain situations where we eventually have a word to say between "Yes" and "No", yet the ultimate answer we're constrained to stays a "Yes", that we don't have any power to alter or influence. We might be given control of our choices and yet prevented from really walking under our own guidance, because the ones we're to take are already settled and silently dictated.

Not every tyrant says they're a tyrant, some oppressors can torture you only with their power to mock you. The trickiest manipulations are always those in which you're delude to have control over everything, when unable to realize you're just maneuvering under a wise puppeteer.

The strings aren't hidden, they're openly revealed to you, the difference is that you can't detach yourself from them, you can only aspire of being your own master but never would be.

There are those situations where we're convinced to have all the choices, only to discover that we definitely have no choice at all, we're filling an invisible duty.

It's beautiful, to dream of independence, but it's more certain to dream of it after tasting how dependency is so immense, that freedom itself is somewhere another dimension of prison, but where we're blinded from seeing the chains that fetter us...

Almost like the example of a bird, offered to be freed from a cage, only to be confined in a zoo!

Meanwhile, I dream of independence.

I always have preferred hidden strings than visible ones, the beauty in it, is that you don't feel the pressure until you discover, no wonder sometimes it always was better to never know... The weight that comes with knowledge is as heavy as the pressure that comes with discovering your puppeteer's strings...

And while you live with visibles ones, you realize how without power, a man can be so miserable and meaningless, under those with control.

You're consciously tricked, tortured, reduced to anything or traded with your own choices.... You're a conscient puppet, with no power to cut the strings, not because there's not the choice to escape, but that the only final way you fall in, is to stay...

However, let's long for independence, knowing brings no freedom but at least enlightenment.

And the chains, who know how many are those we see and those we don't see?

We shared a long, beautiful silence before I complimented her on appearing so fitting for the hollow that holds her waters. She heaved deep sighs, then answered me over the sound of the waters striking the cliff.
She confided that, although she appears to fit in, she still feels held captive by a distress she never asked to endure. Yet, she does not seek her freedom, for at the very heart of the suffering she blames, some have built a kingdom: the fish, she said, feel perfectly safe there, and the seaweed has no other place to truly flourish. She revealed that by delving deeper into her distress, one discovers a multitude of other wonders and beings finding refuge within it. While she sees in this distress a reason to want to vanish, others perceive no misery there, but rather a source of love for life... Though she tries to sweep the fish away with her waves, they find joy in them; where she feels suffering, they find amusement... Her waves ultimately become their only chance to find happiness within her waters...

And when I tried to pity her, she stopped me, for just as with her destiny, there is a universe within me; there are galaxies teeming with thousands of celestial bodies that need nothing but my heart to live. They need the same depth found in this existence, which I sometimes despise, to feel at home....

You see, the sea felt all the happier knowing that the sky, too, could admire its own vastness reflected in her eyes and align itself with her destiny: just as she bore treasures in her depths, he harbored them within his own bosom... The sky confided that he would sometimes shed tears hoping that these gems fall through the drop... yet a great white pearl would light up his face whenever he sank into turmoil... and that, in the end, it was also from his tears that the dryads drew the hope of not withering away ...and to give it another reason to love its own wretchedness: for birds to fly, they need that inhabited void within his immenseness to feel that they exist...

The sky said that when it feels the urge to collapse, it hears a hummingbird joyfully beating its wings in that very void it wishes would come to an end...

So, it chooses to offer it a warmer reason to keep flying...
If our suffering is the very place that gives others a reason to love us... what would we gain by putting an end to it? If the sky were to collapse, would the sight of caged birds bring it any pleasure? Thus, we carry the meaning of one another’s existence; our heaviest fates represent, for some, the most brilliant chance of survival...
Some beings exist only to serve as food for others; from their death, the lives of others blossom. Could they change that? Even if zebras ruled the jungle, would they cease to serve as meat for lions?

That is where the sea confided its desire to me, within that abyss where it feels like a prisoner: it will never give in to despair as long as a million beings find a home there; they give it a reason to be itself and the feeling of fulfilling a mission... and the sky said the same regarding the stars and the birds.

That is doubtless why, when sculptors fashion a new marvel from marble, they build a pedestal for it to bear its splendor; For some of us are useful only by bearing the weight of others and upholding their majesty so it may be revealed to the world …just as the poor serve as a pedestal for the glory of the rich...

Just as a woman carries Man within her womb to give him life, everything in the universe is a gateway or a citadel enabling another to come into being... The sun is the gateway of light; though it seems to find little joy in its solitude, that very solitude is what grants it majesty. It requires the distance separating it from the planets, so they may find their way as it radiates; for those too close, there is no hope of life. Beauty thus arises from every detail of this destiny...

If I could question the Earth, I hope it would speak to me of the wretched burden of bearing human beings. Yet the Earth is the Earth because we inhabit it; without us, it might be as pale and lifeless as the other planets. It invites us, then, to make the most of it: while its interior is steeped in misery, its exterior makes it a unique celestial body, and human atrocity remains part of the destiny that makes it the pride of the solar system...

And later, as I reflect upon myself, a human being, what good do I offer so that others might feel secure, despite my wretchedness?

It is precisely because I am here, by your side, that we constitute a world; it is because I am here that someone can call this planet “home” as they soar into space! Were I to take my own life, I would cease to make this blue planet a home for others; it would become nothing more than a mere patch of earth.

It is when I suffer abuse that someone rises to defend my rights... The crime committed against me gives the lawyer a reason for being, and gives meaning to the law; my wretchedness offers some a cause, a struggle that lends weight to their existence and their ambitions. I am not merely a statistic among billions of humans; I contribute something to humanity: through my wretchedness, I inspire a calling.

My illness gives the doctor a role to play; this is not his happiness, yet it is the only way for him to define his usefulness. My spiritual ruin offers the priest the ambition of salvation... To God Himself, I serve as a pretext to assert His supremacy... But the rich man, does he bring meaning to the poor man’s life, or does he merely add to his misery?

But long before I could even answer that, a guard reminded me that I was standing in a spot where I wasn’t allowed to be at that hour.

Very early on the cold morning of Monday, September 9, 2026. I set out for a run. The waters of the glorious lake were crashing against the rocks just above my feet.

There on the cathedrals’ walls is the artist entertaining the religious through their frescoes, soothing the hope that heavens were a true promise, and since faith needs a lie to lean on, as they depict angels, so believers claim they are. And the scholar, whose inclination is to soften and indeed transcend reality, sees his dream rhyme with that of the magician of motion… they complement each other: one heralds, the other fulfills... After all, we’re all fixing the same skies yet each shapin the clouds in their own way… But is it really as boundless as our eyes pretend to mean it is? Do we see the same clouds or can’t just see the borders restraining our eyes from having the same sight?

Here when still younger I’m closing my eyes so I can see beyond what the sky is when I look towards clouds, those that depicts teddy bears and unicorn are the funniest, yet others displaying puzzles remain the brightest but I want to see more… And now an oldster I contemplate the same sky only to craft monsters and gods for folktales, and angels when it’s my time to go. The rich and the savant when the sun goes mad, ideates from the same sky the scheme that evolves sunshine into power, yet somwhere the poor man sees in it an additional misfortune to his suffering. And when it alter it’s the needy fantasizing how rich they would some day grow, while the wealthier tries figuring how poor they might fall… To some that sky shapes hope, to others it’s distress…

Then… Tell me the sky we see isn’t merely the reflection of what lives in our minds, tell me our present conditions aren’t what controls our perception, because I doubt these clouds simply display what our minds cling at the most, our worries, our beliefs and when it’s collective it tries to mean humanity… Our eyes will always see the same sky but our minds craft different shapes of it… And maybe where my sight can’t see is where yours start perceiving… I know we won’t see the same monsters and teddy bears but there still are those clouds we all can’t cross, because to every eye, there is a roof beyond the sky… There is somewhere we all lose our sight… Imagination isn’t boundless, it simply gives to every sight a place it fits… It uses what we have to paint what are our wishes, it employs our realities to create possibilities… It collects what surrounds us to conceive what inspires us… It looks at the keys we hold to prompt the doors we’d need… Imagination has its culmination… it extends to wherever goes our convictions and limits to our own perception of our situations.

I gloriously hold my quill as kings carry their scepters, because next to my parchment is where lies my realm. What I am to scribble is nothing but prayers, since writing is the only worthy way I converse with the universe. And as I’m dropping thousands lines of a story, a poem or a speech, it’s my entire being rawly pouring its reason of existing to the walls of the World. It’s more of a meditation than a mere leisure, and no wonder should I give the same heart that offers a priest to their altars because Devotion is what it takes to train passion, you pledge towards it the same ardor that fuels your breath when pressed against your lover’s tights, and shower it with bravery, the ways you do when your lips caress your philanderer’s.

You are bride and groom, the time you spend all alone crafting wonders out of it, that's your honeymoon, as you teach your desire to create to fully ignite the power of your passion for working miracles, you become one with it; you are no longer merely a creature of the universe, but a partner in creation. This parchment is the bed upon which your hips will dance and from which the sweat of genuine effort will flow from your hands …for between passion and creation, there has always been an obscene communion. It’s almost a debauchery but more of an euphoric labour that only provides when it’s hit at its culmination… It’s intimacy between the artist and their will..

Since it takes more than mere devotion to make your passion capable of changing your world, create until your attain ecstasy, create until your passion reaches its climax, create up to your spasm, I mean create until you touch your mind’s apex… create until your efforts smell the grandeur of the triumph you want to see. When it’s your passion, seek to derive an orgasm from it… Because your sweat is the greatest sacrifice you ever can give to get whatever your desire is, and so, out of what you love to do can come any of your dreams fully accomplished, only when you stake your breathe on it…
Work on your passion, and train it to work for you, you will always need to give what it takes, before you take what it gives.

It’s a blaze you need to feed… And this is how you keep it ardent; You stroke it to the fury of furnace then you fight to ensure it never goes out, your passion is a muscle, the long you hold from using it, soon it will undergo atrophy. It’s a flower that needs pollinators, so its petals won’t drop off… And your persistance and thirst to create are what gives it pollen.

Sometimes passion is trained like we train dogs, you’ll need love and a heart to keep it dear, or you won’t feel its warmth when undertaking it… I mean the warmth that comes from doing what you value doing… You need it so your flame grows livelier and brighter; Sometimes we train our passions like war machines; the souls revolting for their freedom to be will enable it to get them where simple voices can’t… Sometimes we train our passion like pets, we would need them to not die lonely, they make the joy of living easier to express and the weight of existing smoothier to feel… Sometimes, our passions are the backbones of our survival, somewhere they’re the unique language the world can understand… Sometimes… they’re the reason we hold ourselves from ending our lives… Make yours serve a purpose, then come ask me how you train it to serve the dreams you have…

I am telling my heart that my mistakes are part of my body, and that wanting to deny them would be like trying to amputate a part of myself.

I am telling my heart that I'm not behind anyone, and never needed to be before anyone. Only if I were born in a run that I would need to compete. And since I wasn't, I am telling my heart that the path is quite quiet and smooth enough for us to have a peaceful walk...

I am telling to my heart that death is so beautiful, I will have many people bringing flowers to me, singing my name with tears, celebrating my memories, cherishing pictures of me, remembering they loved me, and for the first time, everyone wishing me a good thing, that peaceful rest. I long for them to wish it to me!
I am telling my heart to not feel pity over them, we should let people cry as much as they can laugh. I wish they'd bring Dahlias and spider lilies... And maybe daisies, or some Freesias... All the flowers of the world.

I am telling my heart that living a happier life already feels more than chasing after a purpose ... Laughter already gives my existence enough meaning and substance, I am telling my heart I don't need an ideal destination, but only a safe journey... If death is the terminus, then living already is worth it. I am telling to my heart that I don't need to know the intention of my existence, of I can offer it an intimate sense, then whether it was illusional or real, It would have been worth it. My heart knows than even the real can be the illusional. Why would I need the truth, if even the right can be the wrong?

I am telling my heart that the ordinary already feels extraordinary, I am living someone else's dream somewhere. I am living someone else's wishes... I am living someone else's heaven and besides, I still am living someone else's hell too. Who knows, as I'm being someone's angel, I might be being someone's prey and devil...

I am telling my heart that it needs to stay a heart, and never become a gold ingot, as it can tend to become a rock or a diamond. It's already someone's pearl just by being the lump of flesh that it is...

I am telling my heart that I still need to feel pain, fear, flaw, doubt, uncertainty, and betrayal... I still need to cry, to run when I feel weak, to ask when I lack... To lean on those who give their shoulders. To wait for love but never plead or chase after it.

I am telling my heart that I still need to be forgiven, that I don't wish to be forgotten, that I still fight to no be forsaken but never can hold people from leaving. I am telling my heart that I still have myself even when the whole World has deserted my life, that I will never be an island, I will always find love from inside when I lack it from outside.

I am telling my heart that I don't owe to anyone an explanation, a reason for being myself, an excuse for not answering to the expectations, nor a sense to justify my acts... I am telling my heart chasing after happiness only brings depression. That I can find it from all the small things that make my everyday, my favorite songs, walks along the sea, dancing in my room, and trying something new, or just doing something old that renews my joy...

I am telling my heart, that I don't need to know everything, all what I need to know is that I am, People are, and what I see, is. What I can't see, can or cannot be, but never should bother me.

I am telling my heart that clinging to people only brings galaxies that become black holes when they leave. That I need to love without holding nor owning. That my heart should learn to beat when detached from other hearts. That we can still live the warmth even when our hearts aren't glued together. And that not everyone leaves, though. Some stay, and my heart knows to cherish those who choose to stay.

I am telling my heart that sometimes I just need to dance, and forget all of this... And only recall that I have a heart. I am telling my heart that having a heart already is enough. I'm happy I can talk to my heart.

It's fun and foolish, it's beautiful than any other talk.

I too would leave from people’s lives, I wish they’d be able to understand that nothing can last forever, there are even things that can’t stay for even a year. For some, I can be of this kind, for others, they should have been the warmest and loveliest ever to keep for more than a year. Sometimes it’s not us wishing to leave, it’s maybe time giving us a reason to… Or maybe life, or just nothing, but a simple feeling that we should split our ways apart… There is not any bad in this, as long as we learn to not hate people because their reason for leaving has differed from our expectations, and as long as we keep in mind that eternity can only be promised, but never attained. Hearts know changes, and the reasons people came in our lives can loosen, and not carry the same warmth over time, why would we insist to stay when our hearts can hold any longer?

It shouldn’t be that we do no longer love, or that we do no longer care, nor that we have found someone best, or somewhere prettier. It should simply be, that we have left, and continued living, though our paths have uncrossed. It’s not about forsaking, it’s about leaving. We can keep loving even after we left, we can keep caring, helping, showing up, listening and supporting, even after we went in separate ways. It’s more of moving, than withdrawing; we’re not deserting people’s lives, we’re just retiring from what we have been.

You must have been giving so much efforts to find your place here, there are posts everywhere giving thousands of insights about growing supportive communities and getting your work discovered. Some say it’s about posting as many notes as you can, others tell you should try restacking, recommending and everything…
And all of that must definitely cause constraint, sleeping overnight striving for an article that after all goes unseen, sweating to give the best of ourselves then getting stuck at 5, 10 or fewer subscribers; and the weight of seeing others succeed that creates within us that indirect urge to try what they say they did… Then rises even more pressure when after attempting everything, the outcomes aren’t just as fast as we hoped they would.
It’s for all of us a common need to be at least noticed, read and reassured that we aren’t giving infertile efforts, and I know, you will reach there. There has never been a fast growth. It is called “growth” because it goes with little steps, sometimes too little to remark that you can’t even realize you are making ones, but I’m sure you’re making them!

But how then?

I guess you have tried the Sub4Sub trends, asking to people to subscribe so you can do it back. You even did the “Me when…; Me writing for my 0 subscribers” thing, to attract more attention to the actual state of your publication… I am doing this too! I’m not best in anything than you are, I am still doing it! And it’s not all, you shared your articles to a hundred of people asking for recommendations, and though all of them didn’t read, some did, and gave you sincere or simple comments. You even saw the current penchant on connecting your pinterest to your Substack so you get increased visibility and visitors. And maybe you tried it, or are planning to try. You did so many things that make of you an achiever, and I admit it can be too hard to realize when you haven’t reached that number of subscribers you wish it was at least the average. Or when those commenting your articles only say “I love this…”, “This was so well written…”
These kind of comments only give us hope but not real opinions, like how was it seen what to improve, how did it affect the reader… And wishing all of this but getting less of it just feels as if we aren’t giving enough… But we are, because what we can is what has always been enough.

You’re making it, |FIRST_NAME|!

Only when you’ll stop obsessing about having thousands of subscribers, that you will realize you are not behind anyone, you are through your own path, you are just doing what will take you to where you want to be! I promise you, you will reach there!

I wasn’t prepared the day I got my first hundred subscribers! Oh flowers! I celebrated as if I was getting a million! And I’m sure you’ll have the same feeling when yours will come too, because I believe that yours are coming! You’ll get this same mail from Substack celebrating your first hundred too! I believe in you and in the efforts you’re inversting into what you’re doing! Just keep writing! Please |FIRST_NAME|!!! PLEASE KEEP WRITING!

You are getting there; I’m not at thousand subscribers to pretend I have reached anywhere impossible, I’m at some hundreds and for me it’s so extraordinary that everytime I check there where it’s written at my profile and feel I’m too big! Too brave and just unbelievable! You will be feeling this too, when you know the efforts you have done, I believe you can even go further and do more that this! I believe because starting always is what preceeds succeding!

Hey pretty |FIRST_NAME|, you’re awesome do you know. You are getting to wherever you wish to reach, you can’t just see it but your efforts can attest it. I’m not promising you anything nor giving you dreams. I’m just asking you to stay in this moments, be a little bit more present, feel the impossible sweat you’re pouring into it, feel the huge efforts you’re investing in this, then double them! If you wish to see a hundred subscribers then you’re at 50, make the double of what you did to get the 50, and you will see those 100, and so we increase as we keep doubling our efforts.

Meanwhile, keep trying the notes, it’s not there for nothing, just post whatever’s within you; and don’t get tired of the Sub4Sub trend! Don’t get rid of the restacking things, because listening to those who have succeeded grants us the power to either do like them, or double what they did, which definitely is doing more than them.

And, as I am summing it all. Keep writing, if you don’t promise it to me, do it for yourself. Don’t write for comments or like, write because it’s what makes Substack feels more of a paradise than a doomscrolling hell. Write because it’s what keeps us alive. Write as you breathe, as if stopping writing would mean dying, to you. It’s the same for me, that’s why I’m still here, the love for writing brought us here, the same love will surely keep us here, and take us further.

Please |FIRST_NAME|, JUST KEEP WRITING.
This is how I’m waving a bye. I wish you the best of luck.

With all the love I have for you, please have this flower, from
Let it bring you luck!

How have you been? I’m happy you can read this; have you seen how beautiful is the nature around you? No matter, if you couldn’t notice. I hope you find some time to try it out, though.

There is too much see, too much beauty to find everywhere. Every single particle composing the nature around us almost seems like a galaxy, containing thousands of stars and reflecting light towards us. Beauty is everywhere; we don’t need mere eyes to discern it. It’s after we channel our being being towards it, that we can sense its vibes. It’s about the lenses through which we choose to view the world. With your mind burdened of thoughts about what was and what will, your vision will be obscured by the mist.
That mist is every single imaginery that we build about our future and our past, which no longer allows us to cherish the present. Beauty sometimes is the sight through which we choose to see the world. We are the artists of our perception, and beauty can be the color with which we choose to paint how the reality appears in our minds. You still can take care of your painting, because reality is one the kind that allows us to reshape everything, whenever we need to.

But that’s not where I wanted this to lead you to.
There is something more fascinating than the usual containers of this beauty, it is a place, it is nowhere. It is something, but nothing. It’s everywhere and everything. It' is nowhere and nothing! That surely sounds like an enigma, or a kind of roundabout, yet there is a beauty out of it and worth of our interest.

There is that moment when you cast your gaze somewhere—except it isn’t precisely somewhere, nor is it nowhere, yet it is still somewhere. And you seem so focused on that particular spot where your eyes are fixed that you could almost lose yourself in it! Some have preferred ta name this “spacing out”, the moment where your mind is blankand absorbed by a precise void, but that others later decide to falsely pretend to be “daydreaming”, but this isn’t that effortless as we might believe it to be. It definitely is a moment of full presence, yet not attached to anything! Let’s call its “unattached presence”.

When we mean presence, there is that connotation that dictates that we should actually focus on something precise, to be material or circumstancial. But those aren’t the unique concepts we look towards when looking to “What is”. Nothing, too, actually is. It depends on the way we undertske it.
When they mean spacing out, it actaully tilt to a state where your mind switches from the task you’re actually doing to another thing out of anything. Yet the one we’re framing here, isn’t definitely the mind when wandering around something unrelated to what you’re doing.

It’s about a moment when you mind simply detaches itself to everything surrounding you, and converges its full attention to spotting an almost inexistant point.
I believe we all have known this, imagine you eyes completely focused to a precise spot, but actually not a practical place. You’re aware of where you’re looking at, and your mind fully connected to your sight, but you’re not really looking at anything, it’s like your gaze has merged with the space between things. At the place where your eyes are directed, there still can be things, people or trees, but none of them is what you’re looking at, yet your sight is fixed at them! I hope you fully understand what this concept is…

The unattched presence is exactly that moment. Not out of daydreaming nor what is commonly baptized “spacing out”, but a state where you’re fully aware of your being and the components of your surroundings, your eyes seem to be fixed at somewhere and straightforwardly at something, yet your sight has never arrived where it seems to be centering. It is just somewhere in that nowhere between you sight and things, it is not lost, nor stuck, but simply discharged and unobstructed, detached from any precise interest, and definitely rejoicing in the boundlessness of space.

There is a beauty is this, that eases the mind; a beauty you only can find in nothing, a beauty that only stays nowhere. Once your mind is released from any need of attaching itself to something substancial so it can feeel present. Presence becomes as wider as space, the nature goes loosening, and the duistance between things can be mesured in light-years. Here your mind can find a seat somewhere it’s not tied to circumstances nor substances… But to an inoccupied presence, exempted from what we we call reality (which is nothing but the sum of accumulated perceptions of the Universe, and perceptions themselves being the pictures we choose of the world we choose to attach ourselves to), and directed to where we don’t choose what we see, and don’t control what we accept to see. That nowhere, indubitably is everywhere… That nothingness is close to everything

Now here’s the deal, after we dsicover that this much is found in nothingness and how sublime is the unattached presence; woouldn’t we make it a practice? If in the middle of everything, we simply let our minds drift towards this nothingness. We do not seek it; we find it. Our eyes do not hunt for it; it finds them. The intention is neither to escape reality nor to create an illusion, but rather to divest oneself of both reality and illusion. There is no need for imagination; it is, after all so vague that it exagerrates and distorts the nature of presence. There is no need for illusion; it is so wounding and distressing that it detaches us from the present even more cruelly. In this unattached contemplation, weneed neither an idea upon which to fix our minds nor a circumstance in which to root our desire of presence; we need only the space that all of this leaves behind—the absence of preception, of illusion, of imagination, and of the clutter of reality. It’s like looking into space without precisely looking at stars, planets and any else thing, but the distance that defines the light-years between them.

However, we do not seek to flee reality by obsessing over this, nor to attain a form of peace claimed to be superior to the one found in reconciling our perceptions with the reality that stems from them. We seek to give the mind space—a chance for absolute silence—even amidst all that fills our field of vision. We seek to find a place withinthis nowhere, to find abundance in this nothingness. Because above all, there is not greater pecae than the one found in reconciling with our perception and the reality that stems from them. There is no greater peace than accepting all what comes with humanity, the worse as the best. Thereby, this isn’t about replacing the reality, it’s about staying but finding space within it.

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Thank you very much for having read this lot! The time and attention you certainly gave to exploring this reflections shows us how much you mean the world to us! Be blessed, and if it inspires you, try finding abundance in this nothingness!

If you leave me and break my heart
I'll make jewels from the pieces, and offer a necklace to my next love.

And the place you filled then emptied...
I will plant freesias, roses and dahlias...
by the way, a garden of wonders to welcome new bees...

I won't look for the one that won't leave me...
I don't want the one that won't break me either...

I'll just open my arms wide
and hug this strong, pretty awesome me!
Congratulate my lucky self
for knowing someone as precious as you... Dear, I'll celebrate you !

And reattach my compass to a new North... Then I’ll leave for a new discovery!
Give myself the chance to live love another time...
Find a new sweetheart, and offer up my heart once more...
I will fall in love again!… I will fall a billion times!...
Because you see, with each heartbreak I discover myself, and love repairs me!...

If my petals are no longer beautiful enough to adorn your world
that you decide to crush my vase and let me dry…

I will wait for rain to come, and love will water me again
And my old vase that you cracked, I will heal its fissures with sunshine…
my peduncle will stand and grow new thorns, and butterflies won’t forget my worth…

I won’t be a flower that never fade…
I don’t want to be the one that’s loved by every passerby either…

Instead, I will unfurl my petals for birds to tear…
and my leaves will feed the caterpillars…
Then the one for whom I’m meant will cherish me when I’m uglier
I will be given a safer place, and a new flower holder…

They might either sell me, or throw me to the trash when I’m unlovely!
I wish, when I’m their worst memory, that they’d better give me to someone as a gift…
To someone else who might wreck me…
But I will not decay, I will bloom again!
Because you see, with every foot trampling me, I grow more humbler and mother Nature repairs me!

Everything falls down to your feet; Veira, which spell do you whisper to tame my shield, which wound do you press to foretell my tears… There is this horrid part of your pulchritude, you knever knocked and never gave me room to breathe miles from your sight… You never asked for allowance to sparkle, it was in your bones, you never asked for a seat, your glamor spoke everywhere in your favor, and the weather hopelessly had to yield before your prestige. It isn’t too much sore nor distress, but how do I find peace just for a while, far from your presence…

Because I can see you everywhere… But you always said you never meant to. Please, I can sense you everywhere, your scent, your voice, your hands that touched me but always reached me, your legs that never walked to anywhere but always found me, your lips that never never asked to kiss mine, because they did it anytime… You imposed debauchery over me, and we sinned but not a sin… We fell into one another’s arm and you took my virginity, yet you argued that night was sinless… It was said in none human being can be found immaculacy… But dear, I at least was innocent the day you stood over me.

The flower over there, gloriously blossoming, and the dew drops beautifully lingering on its petals, I can see you kissing its bud before it blooms! Veira I see you engraved on its sepals, I see you shimmering on its anthers and pole-dancing all along their filaments until you adide down in its caly and build your own realm…

You breathed your fairy dust onto the budding charm of this cheerful baby; he has done nothing but light up my being ever since I recognized you in his innocent gaze! Look as he he lusciously smile! Look Veira! You made of him cuter enough to carry his mother’s heartbeats!
In that kitten’s heavenly pleading eyes, Veira I see you caressing its paws, and the puppy’s supple bark sounds like your whispers… How do you do so butterflies can carry all the rainbow’s glory on their hastily flapping wings? Veira, and the bird that can’t stop enchating my ears early in the morning, what potion have you made them drink so these divine songs can flow from their talks?

You stole the Sun while I was sleeping and painted it read, turned it impossible bright, then you smoothly revealed it to me as a greeting to start my day, and couldn’t let it slide away, you continued drawing teddy bears and unicorns up on the skies, and after you finished tempting me with clouds, you merrily showered dryads enabling their greenery to bring me luck… Veira, and when you offered me the Moon, did you mean it to bewitch me! You know I’m always at your feet when it comes to unveiling your plenitude! But these gems you have adorned my night with, do I still have to guess their winsomeness was poured from your majesty? I never knew why you named them stars, was it because you wanted me to never stop staring at you?

There is so much to mention your presence within. You married the Universe, and you became synonymous; and I, while being its fervent particle, was constrained to carry your genes Veira, I see your charm in each of my fellows, and this mansion you offfered and told us to call home, is filled with your praises everywhere… I find peace and more joy in feeling your warmth everwhere, and since I thought to have understood of your inrrevocable omnipresence… Veira, you’re the breathe in everything, the reason of this immense Universe’s impossible shapeliness; Veira you do not born, you ryally are. And I believe to have found more light in being present, because here you unfold all of your veils and send me at my highest enlightenment.

Yet Veira, you aren’t a curse, are you? I fear you won’t sound more of an obsession than a freedom! If I’m passionate in too seeking your light, will I be able to breathe hwen I’m stuck in someplace you won’t manifest? Would I bear tolerating what looks to not carry your scent at all? Won’t I become prisoner of your spells, since you never made it feel like chains, instead I only can know kisses. Veira, please tell you aren\t a mere dream! Please tell it’s not a white picture… Please tell I’m not after fantasy… Please, do promise… Do or… If you won’t… then…

Veira, unchain my hands! But, please, never let go of me! Let me by myself, but don’t dare forsake me! I still need you to bother me, and your poison to rip my throat… I still want to get my eyes lost into fondling your curves and contours. You’re a divine opium Veira, Beauty is a divine Heroin… Beauty is the Universe’s handmade Cocain… Beauty… is God’s own Nicotine…

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But I am not chargeless; I am serving my sentence, I carry my guilt within me, I am answering to the cost. It would be futile and mere flattery were I to declare myself innocent. Do you believe in fantasy? I neither don’t. This isn’t then fiction; It’s the raw story of a life.

I came here when I only was twelve. Yes, it sparks curiosity to know what this sin is, one that transcends age. It is nothing …perhaps the same fate as the fallen angels. But ours is a sin labeled as such by those who believe we are a blight on nature: the sin of imperfection, and in case you wanted to guess …love, with its own share of heresy.

But do not mock justice; it has always known how to captivate us. Whether it is a bloodthirsty act of vengeance disguised as a response to human arrogance, a form of indulgence serving the pleasure of others, or the stone society ties around the necks of those whose colors shine a little too brightly; casting them into the ocean for the sake of its own peace and reason …justice is nonetheless necessary.

I had hoped that the forms of justice might differ; since there seem to be so many, or that the prisons themselves might vary. Yet there is nothing to be gained from that; my prison suits me, as does the justice applied to me.

A few days earlier, there was this inmate who has been dear to me, they just passed away… We came here both younger, thrived and survived… But his voice was too louder, though we had the same chains. He wanted to break his, yet knowing where he is… And so, they were gone and the chains stayed. I am mourning them.

You surely must be thinking I am indifferent, but nope! Fish aren’t taught to love water, they learn it by themselves as they grow. And so you should do with life, unless you’re tired of the ocean. If you were lied there might be freedom outside.

I definitely won’t ask you what holds you in here, maybe we’re in the same cage and are tied by the same chains, or maybe you were among those who entrusted me with this cell. The good is in you finding me. You can either choose to learn from my preachings, or to take a better path. Though, keep knowing that even if you choose hate, it still will bring you to love. And if it doesn’t, adding more hate will inspire others to add more love… And at the end, Love will save you too.

You asked me of freedom though, you’re still too young, bright and strong, there is more to ask than freedom. You have fears, regrets and sins, you’d better search for the peace of mind and allow your heart to effortlessly find joy in spite of the whether. Freedom is far from peace.

I have chosen to build peace too… I’ve heard out there, are those like us who want to appear in broad daylight, claim for the same altar as saints, and kiss in cathedrals, under chandeliers and candlelights, and chase after the peace that laws claim to offer. No, I don’t envy these. These have never been what freedom looked like to me. It isn’t given like a trophy to compete for, nor as a crown to thos who fitted the crowd’s gaze.

Freedom is there, it is the fur of every being, it is not sold. See my freedom within my cell. It has never been the absence of chains, but the power to transcend and tame them until you can feel the world yet with their wight on your back, until you can breathe and dance and live, and feel they’re yours…

Freedom isn’t out of this cell, see it’s everywhere here! Filling the air with its charms, turning the ceiling into a sky where still a bird can though in a cage! There is more life in here than anywhere outside, I can feel the lowest parts of my humanity, tragedy, horror, despair, failure, shame, distress, loss, and even death when it comes, but instead of taking me, we play around, it teaches me how to love life more again, through pain and sickness, and shows me what stays when I lose this body, there still stays peace and nothing to lose, since the body was a lie!

I have fallen in love with these chains, the day I admitted they were mine… But it was after tragedy and I saw the world’s hidden face. I albeit never blamed it for feeling cold towards me. The world has the right to choose what looks it applies to us, why would we try to force it into fortitude! Learn to give time to resilience, and if people have failed to bounce back after they knew your truth, then they too have the right to take time and process their feelings… So you should love your chains and not necessarily ask for others to love them with you! It too to snakes time to understand they no longer have legs, until they learned to fit… Oh that was senseless.

I tried to ask for freedom too! The freedom that means no chains! and gloriously stepping outside, but I fell and realized I’m not myself without these chains, I was entrusted with them by the Universe.
I now can look at them and realize sunset can still reach my cell and soothe the air inside; giving more room to keep their weight aside and breathe. I almost have never seen the Sun at Zenith. It quietly rises within me and instead of drying my garden, it paint livelier the lys and velvets, and leaves the soil warmer… Allowing to many other wonders to blossom and many more ants to find home.

My cell doesn’t have all what I long for, yet has all what I need; and as lonng as I remain here, I will then have enough and never lack a thing. If I can be true to my chains, and feel safe in this cell, then it’s more than enough!

I won’t say I’m brave and have no fears… I’d rather say I made peace with all what I feared. They’re quiet in my mind, knowing I still hold them dear and scary. But I can’t let the unknown shatter what I know…
What I know is that I don’t fear what is nor what will'; but what would and “what-ifs” …We all mostly fear mountains covered by mist… others fear those they once climbed, and now wish they never should again.

And the gods say not to have fears… Not having fear is far from being fearless though. What we call our biggest fears are imaginary, unlived circumstances that we won’t wish to occur… Or terrors we once lived that left us broken and awaken to pain that we wish them to not repeat…

What my biggest fear is… Is to one day be able to love these chains, and dream of the freedom outside that I won’t find. It’s to someday not be stop carrying the peace I feel in being true with my cell, and go search in the world’s eyes…
I love these chains, I’m in love with my cage… Sunset still reaches here… I can see the Sun rise. It isn’t an immense sky here, but a safe place with enough clouds my wings can caress.

My deepest hurt, is to know that I too, can long for a more wider room, a sky without a too close ceiling, with just enough clouds to sometimes blur the Sun from reaching the ground… And rainy freezing days until comes the need for a heart to cuddle ours so we can warm ourselves… I already am rooting for them… I already am admitting one day I too will need to not die in a cell… I already am hoping you will come to break these walls and give me the desire to kiss with you, in cathedrals, under chandeliers and candlelight, but I won’t promise with another chain, and we won’t need cathedrals. I wish your hands could stay unbothered, we have the whole world to hold… I won’t put a chain at your hands. But Love will…

We will wear these lilies and you covered with lip marks, You will confer to them more beauty to offer the world’s eyes, and will teach me how to love more these chains since your presence will soothe them… I will be waiting, when you come to water the garden, we’ll meet at my window and share hope through the glass. This cell isn’t where I belong, but in your arms… I belong to Love. Love will give me wider wings, Love is as immense as the open sky and more, Love will find me, Love will free me from clinging to this cell; Love will show me the way back home. You are home, Love will take me to you… I will carry with me these lilies I have grown, and all the peace found in loving this cell, You’ll come find me and unveil my eyes… You will come find me and unfold my heart… You will come and take me to where I belong… Not a destination, but you… I will be waiting.

I'm sincerely happy to have you among the hearts still beating on this new day, I wish you'd know how many aren't having this grace you and I freely got, so I humbly invite you to cherish the breath of life within you and to ensure that you savor this day, extracting the very best it has to offer.

Be happy, it's the beautiest way we ever can express gratefulness, Let a smile linger on your gentle face, and let positive thoughts simply stagnate in your mind… Ask for nothing more just yet; simply enjoy what is already there… The glorious sunrise, and all the warmth that comes with Summer, or whatever mood the clouds are in, the wonderful things to admire in them.

It’s the rainy season here, and although it was bitterly cold yesterday, we’ve been blessed with lovely sunshine today; the light streams right through the window, heralding the beauty the day brings. I feel grateful, and I hope you have a wonderful day too.

There's nothing of greater preciousness we freely can give to ourselves everyday than happiness.

I wish you knew it was a choice, it doesn't come with circumstances, it comes from what you decide to take from them. No matter how gloomy they were, not how bright, the responsibility is ours to either take the good part of them or get stuck on their worse one.

However, I hope you always choose to be brave and smile no matter how hard times are.

And if you'd do the same today, I'd definitely feel blessed.

One last thing, as you'll going through this day, I wish you'd set on your daily agenda a moment dedicated for something your like, it might be a walk, playing with your children, your pet or a visit to the Park… All is on your own, just something that makes you feel alive… I know you definitely must have lots of emails to answer, lots of courses to pursue, lots of meetings or to attend, and business deals to conclude, and many other urgent tasks for the day… But try to think of yourself too, as long as you take care of the beautiful being you are, then everything else is allowed.

Do you write?

Do you have any of your writings you'd like to share with me? I surely would be very glad to read your thoughts, I look forward to sharing the daily life with you!

Have a beautiful day, then!

Thank you!

If we were to be following an algorithm that already set what to come and what not to, what would have our existences be meant for, is it for simply performing a piece that already was written, where we can’t shape or own trajectories, we can’t have our own stories, but are only constrained to be pawns serving for a certain player’s luxury?

No way would we explain that our lives are effortless plays where the unique purpose of our exixtences is to complete the formalities of the game.

What I believe is that, we are raw particles of the Universe deliberately released in an environment where we are meant to evolve on our own, to become and find our way back to our essence. Not that we definitely control the Universe, but that we are responsible of its reactions to our choices. However, we are not given choices, we create them, we shape our reality out of the possiblities we are given by the Universe.

We receive from the Universe the tools to lead the experience, but are definitely the authors behind its fulfilment, the Universe holds its origination, yet we hold the cords maneuvering its realization. Like the puppeteer, we are given existence as a static dimension, but here unlike the traditional marionetist, the wires, strings, and rods already are fixed by the Universe, though not the moves, for we definitely are the ones deciding which move we want to perform, and practically procreate the trick necessary for the completion of the desired movement while remaining the ghost behind the outcome. Isn’t that enough to definitely assume we are the players behind our own trajectory?

To sum it all, even though the immenseness and elaborated, mysterious structure of the Universe are so daunting that they almost evoke in us a sense of overwhelming complexity. It shouldn’t serve as alibi to escape the responsibility we have upon our existence, though it feels that harrowing nor though our pride would let us believe we’re independant from the choices we make, Whether the ability of making choices would tilt to being an impression we utopically have than a real capacity we embody, the most prudent behavior that would be to adopt, is to however take austere care of this often-ignored ability, and try understanding that the fact that we actually can make choices wouldn’t anyway be a hasarded trick that has no purpose nor real link to our existance.

For as long as we can make choices, whether they are infertile formalities or definitive conditions of our reality, we reamain fully depending on their substantiality, be directly or indirectly, consciously or unconsciously, it’s remains a capacity of indisputable necessity regarding our experience of existence. We need to make choices… We are constrained to, no matter our perception of their corporeality… We need to make choices…

We obviously are free to believe or doubt in our ability to shape, design or influence our reality, but are surely not spared from the fact that we all have tried to at least make meaningful choices… Because the better wouldn’t be that we crossed our hands and let things happen as the would since we thought they weren’t our responsibilities, but that at least, though in doubt, we definitely tried to invest our existence into what we thought to be worthwhile choices… We at least tried choosing…

^{Thank you!}

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We never were born and never were dead, we simply crossed paths with the Earth and walked past it towards our perpetual flowering. We travel, we never started and will never stop travelling, for we’re constrained to evolve, to alter, to become.
We become what we see and what we can’t see, we become what we think and what we imagine, we become what we fear and what we ignore, we become our acts, our words, our doubts, we become what we believe, what we achieve, what we love…

We become what we think: A moment back in our lives when facing a certain struggle, we looked at the mountain we want to move, and ourselves who’re meant to move it. So huge was it that looking back at ourselves would seem an humiliation. But we couldn’t let fear become our truths, so we decreed we’d do, and so we surprisingly did! It wasn’t being brave that made we moved it ! It was moving it that made us brave! Because we thought we’d move, and so we did! We became brave enough to move that one and countless other mountains, because we thought we could.

We become what we fear: The day back to your workplace when you wanted teammates not to think you were selfish, and paid lunch for them. You sure wanted to feel you don’t only think of yourself, and feared you’d be judged selfish if so it was. But dear, you already became self-centered just by the minute you wanted to alter the others’s perception of you! For if you weren’t that selfish, you would care but couldn’t think of acting to change it! It isn’t acting selfish that made you egoistical, it’s since you feared it that you started becoming!

We become what we ignore: every time someone reproached you of a behavior you often display but never cared of; every day someone reminded you of the details you shut eyes to, about yourself, about others, about the nature around you. Every time someone advised you to change that unseen habit you have but never realized, every time you hurt a friend or anyone and buried your head in sand, the people’s feelings you never paid attention to, the little notices you were given at work or anywhere, that you decide to trample. All what you thought never mattered definitely mattered when you turned a blind eye to it, because you see, a repeated act creates a habit, and what are else are we if not our habits! So you became all the things you once ignored and kept redoing! Because you never knew that as they kept repeating, so you were becoming!

We become our words: though you never cared of everything that came from your mouth!, be towards someone else or about yourself! The countless times you declared yourself to be a failure, a shame, a monster, an idiot, be in small words, small circumstances, jokes or trivial thoughts! The moment you yelled at your child, brother or anyone else that they’re a fool, a moron, a jerk, pervert, coward, stupid, useless, a waste and purposeless! You were casting spells, dear! You definitely were throwing curses! And you’d have chosen to throw blessing instead, but since the world is this vulgar that we all went corrupted, so we cursed ourselves, our beloved ones, our pets and our own lives! We cursed the world! Because you see, every word that comes from your mouth is a declaration, a new truth’s birth, a fact in becoming! So all your words become, and you become with them!

We become our acts: Look, the plastic bottle you carelessly throw anywhere, the plants you unconsciously trample every time your feet touch the ground. The countless times you drive unmindfully as if the road was empty, the food you waste and never cared of someone, somewhere hopelessly starving. Let’s not speak of the times you’ve heard about climate change and decided to negligently walk past the news or scroll up for a reel. What does such acts make us if not the real Earth’s scavengers!

Or…Well…
Every time you decide to cede your seat to someone in the bus, to help a child or an old person cross the road, to listen to people when exposing their struggles, to help a teammate when wrestling with a project, to make someone laugh, learn something new or adopt a positive perspective of life… What else do these acts make of you if not a lifesaver! For you can be the Christ your neighbor’s waiting for, you can be the Buddha whose teachings would shape your friends’ lives, you can be the God’s presence someone was needing in their hard times, you can be the hero others need to stand for their rights. Say, wouldn’t you be the reason someone can laugh today? Would you please be the way someone would pass to meet enlightenment! Would you be the blessing behind someone’s happiness? If you would, aren’t you an angel? OH yes, because your acts say you are, or you can choose to be a devil… But please be an angel…

There is a lot about becoming, and unnumbered things you became yet never knew you did, but if you can try to “BE” more present… To really visualize and understand what are you being, then you finally can control some things you’re becoming.
So next time before acting, choose what act to pose and a see the reason behind it, next time you look at yourself, the way you live with everyone, and the world around you, remember that whatever you decide to do, to say, to fear, to ignore or to try, is what you’re definitely becoming.

Thank you! Keep becoming!

Glimpsing back to the life I was drowning into, for the past few days, depicts in my eyes a picture of a desperate being, struck by depression, trying to find out what else I can be good at, a part of being myself. And of course there's not, because the beautiest thing we can ever be, is being ourselves, I learned that from those hard days though…

It came this moment in my life when I stepped down over everything I was involved in, I took a great breathe as to stop breathing, then I sat and asked myself “What really is the life I want to live, and what practically are the choices I have to make it happen right now?'“…

When, at first this question struck into my mind, I rushed thinking I had no choice. I was lost into thinking that lot about the future, what do I want to be, what impact do I want to make, what mark do I wish to leave when I'm gone, how do I effectively take care of those I love, how do I grant them a brighter future, what do I want to be remembered for… And one of the biggest in these was “How do I attain that really forged life I'm dreaming about”… Guesses were like “I'm gonna work hard and try keep savings, I must push into studying and get good grades so I can get to the level I wish… I must get a good job, take my responsibilities towards my family, have a car and a pet and finally handle everything…”

And OH, I was so lost, feeling so dejected, because I could only paint all of these in my eyes, but couldn't get them at that time, so I could desperately continue to sweat for what I can only dream about but can never reach in the present.

I got carried away, and haunted by the future, that I definitely forgot one thing…

I forgot to enjoy, to enjoy the present. The sum of all my wishes about the future was that “I wish to live a happier life” and the brightest thought I couldn't fall at, is that I could eventually make this fully happen right where I am! Without needing savings, a perfect job, a house and a degree, I could live a happier life!

And it's just until, few days back to today, I had a talk with myself, taking enough time to ask to myself how exactly do I reach the happier life I want to live, that I got the practical answer “it's by giving what it takes, and by doing what it asks”, This was my final answer about living a happier life.

What does it take? The first as always, it takes Life! Being alive is what it has always taken to do anything, back then a thought shone in my mind…

You are more alive in the present than ever !

…

OH exactly! Living feels alive when it's only conjugated in the present! Would I go to look for the life I want in the past? Would I rush to live it in the future! Will I ever have the future! Oh no, I only have the present, the past is a scar and the future an illusion…

What else does it take? My will ! With my will, I can reach any of my desires! It does not ask for who has the strongest will, but for whether I am really willing to make of my present the beautiest life ever, or to wait for the future to make it for me.

My will means my choices, couldn't I stop dreaming and start fully living? Couldn't I stop desiring, and start simply enjoying? Couldn't I stop hating, and start truly loving? Couldn't I stop fearing, and simply start trying? Couldn't I stop blaming, and definitely try accepting? Couldn't I stop fleeing, and finally learn staying?

And so many any other choices, they aren't infinite by number , but by essence, they are simple, few, but perfect in themselves. And my will to engage them, is really what changes my daily perception of my own life.

I have so many other beautiful things to love, rather looking for things to hate…

…

And finally what does it ask? Habits! A happier life comes from routines, from changing habits, from learning new things, from simplicity, from beautiful monotonies, from smooth repetitions of what makes us happier the most and the often.

What if I read a book, what if I play with my pet 🐕 (though I don't have one, someone borrow me please 🥺, euh… a kitten or a puppy…)

What if I take a moment to talk to a stranger… What if I try practicing Zen, only contemplating the nature around, without any other intention than admiring the universe’s overwhelming immensity…

What if I dance my favorite song, or look at old photos in my album. What if I stop scrolling for a minute and just breathe the air, have a long walk without no precise direction… Walk in trees, along the seashore… or visit a neighborhood? What if I watch a movie 🍿… Or try random journaling…

What if I play my favorite song and let memories slid down in my mind without chasing them… What if I try cooking, or learn something new and warmer, like crocheting, beads work, or painting?

And what if I talk to my parents, or one of my siblings, or write a message to someone randomly selected…

There is a lot to do, a lot of “What if’s” that help us make life brighter and brighter… But we simply choose to lose ourselves into things that leave us broken, regretful, or confused and lost… Such as doomscrolling, overthinking about a future that never comes, overworking to gain savings, none of these is nonsense, because at the end they all take us to a specific profit, so we lose ourselves for a profit that's more far than the great things we already have just near us, great things such us the parks, the libraries, the sea to longer our eyes at, the stars to gaze, the pets to caress, the smiles that cost nothing… The family, friends and lovers… All of them left in the present, that we fail to cherish and either chose to spend our lives regretting the past or chasing after the future…

At the end of all… We definitely forget the present more than we forget the past…

So all of these… Are what suddenly came in my mind, just from wondering how could I live the happier life that I'm longing for, just at the right time, because the present is the only excellently right time we have, or wrong, but I believe so…

Well after this, I couldn't change the facts that I lived a gloomy life back in the hard days I had, but I could lead my will and my mind into shaping the present straight into the happiest life I will ever live.

And this is when the biggest, greatest and beautiest feeling rose in me, the feeling of gratefulness.

Not because someone has done something huge toe, but for the beautiful, small or big details that I can find in my daily life, the short funny moments I can have while trying my new routines, and the short smiles evey tried new thing leaves on my face and my heart, the sum of them make an endless happiness 😊

Not that I don't worry about the future, but that I invest more in the present. Not that I don't think of tomorrow, but that I'm focus on making a better today.

To hear me, it would feel that easy, of course it's just like waking and declaring “today I'm going to have the happiest day ever”, eventually, this is the real beginning of that happiest day, but its end is when you let a certain circumstance spoil it.

So I decided and declared “This time, I'm going to live the happiest life ever !” And started fighting to avoid any circumstances from stealing my newfound land of infinite happiness 😊

Well… I end it by there… If you too have something to share about living a happier life, you can drop it here !

After all, I still need a lot to add on my happiness 😊 And you can be a donor!

Words, or encouragement, or a message… Or a promise to try this!

I even had a moment to admire this Spider Lily, that I ended up picturing 😚

Trust always worth it. For without it no bestfriends would ever exist, no love stories, no safety on this Earth, no sincerity, no honesty, and at the end of all, no humanity.

I am telling this to my old gone self, I have finally chosen to have a personal space in someone’s heart, or worse, I have finally allowed someone to see me naked, stripped of my flesh, detached from my fears, far from my barriers, and separated from my doubt. I have chosen trust, and not anyhow, but the truth-rooted trust, the trust that straight means Love. Never will I regret for having this extremely trusted, but I will rejoice for being true.

I have been so brave today… I sure have been the bravest today.

You were worth it.

I shall be free
I shall be free
I shall be free
I shall be free
I shall be free
I shall be free
I shall be free

Thus, throughout my journey within human society, having has enriched my existence to the point of even transcending the simple fact of being, because I used to define myself by what I possessed.

“The flesh that covers my bones from the cold, which I called my body,” I was ordered to add “my” because, by saying it belonged to me, the groups within which I felt like family had to do the same. But the most absurd thing is that I came here to own nothing, only to savor and let myself go, and yet I tend to define my existence by my possessions, to such an extent that saying my name refers more to what I own than to who I am. Thus, obtaining a doctorate, a PhD, an LL.J., etc., increases my wealth, because talking about Elon Musk is tantamount to saying, “He owns billions of dollars, and is therefore the richest man on the planet.” These attributes come to me from the society that wants to identify with me, to the point that, in the long run, my identity will end up replacing the very essence of my existence. I am defined by my skin color, because it is “my” color, “my” family, “my” country… and so on, yet none of this belongs to me. These are merely markers with no connection to my inner being. The body is not a being, but a commodity, and everything on it uses it. Society’s attempt to mold me into a “masculine” image is so absurd that it has even blinded the world.

All of this is difficult to explain, because I feel attached to nothing and need nothing to define my existence. However, nothing is supposed to carry the pronoun “my,” because I can perfectly well exist even in their absence. I have no power over the people around me, nor over those I love, because they do not belong to me. But I allow myself to add “my” to indicate that it is a friend or an acquaintance. Yet, no one lives at my expense; Everyone lives their own life! I’m not trying to oppose or dominate anything, but simply to connect with what I’ve encountered in order to create something useful related to my experience, and then move on. The body itself will remain part of the earth from which it came: these friends, this family, this car—because it’s not “my” car, it was designed to be a car! This villa, I built it to shelter me, not to make it my tomb, so why would I call it “my villa”? Even my grave doesn’t belong to me, because it will remain in the world. Thus, everything on Earth belongs to the Earth. My very being, my existence, doesn’t belong to me, because I had no power over my birth, nor even over my death. Even if the belief in my own power might lead me to believe that I have the right to end my life, no! Who gives you the right to kill what doesn’t belong to you? Time decides your end, the world decides your experience, and the universe decides your existence! Your name, your body, your possessions are not meant to be “mine.” I am disgusted to see things attached to my being, for example, “so-and-so’s house,” “so-and-so’s property,” but it’s absurd! Would I leave with that house? Did I come with it? Yet, of all that seems to belong to me, perhaps only my thoughts, perhaps only those, can be considered my property, because no one else can think like me… but the “I” itself already sounds like a prison, because it seems to condition existence, and yet it was there even before we arrived. It’s like a pseudonym used in a video game for the sake of the experience, but not for the player, who finds themselves there at their own expense! Perhaps all of this stems from the absurdity of language! It’s even exhausting to admire its absurdity…

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