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abstract, affirmation, being, brain, breathe, children, choice, collective, connection, consciousness, continents, cosmos, dream, Earth, eternal, evolution, expand, expression, family, fear, feed, heart, hope, human, illusion, inner map, joy, knowing, language, life, light, love, material, memories, mind, mirrors, money, nation, perceived, power, process, reflection, reminder, resonance, soul, space ship, star dust, structure, sunrise, time, transformation, travel, Universe, vibration, water, within, wonder, words, world
Time. Words. Material. The abstract world is always stronger before it starts to die away.
We are structured light. Never finite. Always traveling.
Become aware of your inner map being a reflection of the whole Universe. Ask yourself: “how long can I go without knowing who I am?” We are eternal mirrors of each other, but reflections serve only as reminders that we also poses an inside world, and in it we speak all languages, we keep all dreams, we know all there was and will be. There are no secrets to the soul, unless you try to live substituting the mind to it. The heart knows. Always knows. Always knows.
Allow. Love your fears and they will grow into butterflies of hope. Everything transforms. And every intention, set or withheld, will pave the way of that transformation. That is the point of your ability to influence how your outer world builds around you. The many layers of this world are a reflection of all that we poses inside. Until we collapse onto ourselves and dissolve the fleeting structure that was meant to evolve, we have a choice.
We are forced towards ourselves more and more, with each sunrise, each revolving of this spaceship we’re on. From continents and nations, to the nearest places of need and grief, affirmation and connection, expression and pleasure, to our personal and collective spaces, our families, our children, we expand our consciousness, ultimately forced to asses the resonance of it all within. And we know all that would disappear in its perceived form, if for a while we would stop from breathing.
We started out as drops of water and stars dust, vibrating at the sound of light.
We are growing apart from our fears and illusions. Power is nothing, if not another name for Love.
We are the miracle threshold between the non-existent and memories.
All it takes is one tiny thing that brings you true joy. One thing to bring you a sigh of relief, because it reminds you of the wonder of the world.
Food For Soul:
p.s.: above are small jars of devilishly delicious cherry and lemon jam – just fresh fruit and sugar and a splash of water, if you ever wanna try them.
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A time for every color of your past, the silence of what is too insignificant to last.
Woke up to the dry howling of the wind and thought about how we lost the sun again today. Cussed at the making of the Universe, the Earth and the cosmos, and the distance between the planets and the stars, this distance which makes it easier, or harder to go on, for us small creatures, …and at the frail making of my bones, which never loved cold, but which have always been loved by it. It found a space to thrive and dwell, to tell its stories once again. About how structures of this plane crack inside and lose their shape under its weight, how the light travels faster, the minutes grow longer, and love gets easier, because in these silent times there are not so many directions to take so easily anymore. “You’re not welcome here”. But the cold is always deaf.
Slowed down by the weight of my clothes and my thoughts, I roll my steps on the salty ice dust, to meet my brief destiny of today. The cold now sits on the branches of this plane, ruling the morning still, stretched like a thin, poisonous, invisible octopus over the trapped memories, inside the evidence of the past warm rays.
The road ahead changed overnight into a white mystery, a visual spectacle for an audience who will never get the pains that make it. A rare chance to experience the frozen energy field around each and every leaf, the trace of the blizzard stamped on the trees.
Eternal paradox of the snowflake melted by the very warmth of the joy it brings.