I wish I could develop a sense of nostalgia for the present.

I wish I could develop a sense of nostalgia for the present, not for the past, as one does more often than not. There is, in that sort of puzzling uneasiness called ‘melancholy’, a shade of realization that doesn’t always reach the threshold of pain. So it’s worth getting soaked into it.

I wish I could experience the present as if it was already gone and without the hope to live it again because it wasn’t enough, because time couldn’t elaborate it all in a single shot. Better yet: to experience the present in some kind of past, not in the present.

That would throw lights in the stillness of time. It would be like taking the best part of a path that has yet to come. How beautiful is the past, at times! And how much of it gets lost, too lost, diluted, in time. Yet beautiful it remains.

I am going for a ride.

I am going for a ride…

I’ll try to avoid saying much of what’s already been said. This project of mine is about truth (at least, my perspective on truth). Fearlessly,I believe, I’ll leave no stone unturned and nothing to chance. A journey. And not in search of big audiences. It’s a journey that follows the unbeaten paths. It will be the audience (whenever it feels ready) to find it.

In “truth”, this is not (unlike I said) a project of mine. It is a project of yours. Which I, simply, am the vehicle of.

#Letters.

Questions. But no, no… No questions. More so, hints of answers. Answers in motion. After all, every answer isn’t a finished package. It is one of the endless moving parts of the many Universes we are surrounded by and contained in.

Ride along…

Once in a while.

Politics. I don’t usually like to go there. I do, sometimes. Against my will, I am willing to go there. There are things in politics, like there in other places, that require a different set of lenses. I wear glasses.

The electoral pulls show that, if we were to vote for a new President of the United States today, Mr Biden wouldn’t stand a chance against Mr Trump. The only person that could compete against Trump is Mr Kennedy. But he doesn’t stand a chance against Mr Biden; the Dems won’t let him run. On the other hand, the only one (between Trump and De Santis) that could lose against Mr Biden is Mr De Santis. The Dems like him because Biden would have a chance to win. But, for the opposite reason, he doesn’t have a chance to win against Trump. In fact, as much as the Republicans are kind of agnostic about Mr Trump, they don’t to lose.

The similarities between Trump and Kennedy are louder than the similarities between Trump and De Santis. The similarities between Biden and De Santis are louder than the similarities between Biden and Kennedy.

That’s why the discourse would be more intriguing and thought-provoking

Similarities have an opportunity to become differences more than discrepancies have an opportunity to become similarities. Differences are quiet, colorless, uneventful. They tend to generate high-pitched sounds only because they have nothing to say. Similarities are outspoken, spiteful in spite of their bizarre nature; they are more equivocal than differences.

Similarities feed themselves with nuances. Nuances are enthusiastic and playful. Lights, not highlights. Thanks.

These boots are old.

These boots are old, but they haven’t had a chance to walk many steps, because I loved them too much and didn't want them to get old. When my aunt gifted them to me, years ago, she probably didn’t know that they would have outlived her. I’ve always kept them in a sacred mental space. I’ve always kept in mind the association between her and her boots.

I decided to wear them during the recent music video.

The moment that first wave hit me during the shooting of the video, I knew that it was the last time I wore them. Because they deserve to never be forgotten again.

Every time I watch the video of “Letter to God”, that wave will splash on my aunt’s boots. And she will never be forgotten. And I will be living that moment in Tuscany one more time, when she told me that they were boots of great quality and very expensive. And I told her, “I know zia, you always buy the best things for me”. And she said, “Yes, because I love you very much”.

Through the clouds

Through the clouds, happy morning clouds, they could glimpse moments of sun. They could also see the branches of the trees floating as if waiting for…. Simply, waiting and being happy with their time. They could also see the flowers, ready for days of summer. And they could hear the birds’ chirping. And they couldn’t see, but they could imagine what life was below the surface of the lake. They were hungry, and they could see the food flooding the table, like those pictures that one always fathoms of irreality. They were smiling and could even see their thoughts through their smiles.They were happy.

But one thing they couldn’t see, couldn’t imagine, couldn’t fathom. It was tucked away, below any surface that one can devise. It was loud, voluminous, astonishing. But it was - fortunately or unfortunately - quiet. It was the truth that they couldn't see.

But we believe in humanity.

To shake off the fear becomes a non-issue the minute we accept that the human condition is just a dogma. And, like every dogma, we believe in it because… just because. We believe in humanity despite the fact that no one has ever shown us once and for all that we are human. Oh well!

The insecurity of security.

After checking-in, security. Security is a test. It’s like going into the confessional. Once you get out safely you’ve been absolved and forgiven. All your potential sins have been cleansed. The sky has never been so handy. Just one more gate.  

I didn’t need to take out my laptop. Some other times yes, not today. I had to take off my sweater. And my shoes. I took off my hat. The TSA gentleman told me I didn’t need to take off my hat. I put my hat back on. Not because I needed it. Only because I could.

I asked him, “Is a hat less threatening than a sweater?” He started twitching his mustache, blushed a bit. He was not expecting this. But my question brought him some form of embarrassment, along with some relief. Finally someone else, besides himself, wanted to know what the deal was. I felt that he had never really concocted a question to answer this point. Questions bring complexities because they spread question marks. For some, question marks are more threatening than sweaters. The insecurities of security.  

He got rid of me by placing my shoes into the box very, very carefully. Maybe his intention was to make the separation between me and them less harsh after all the stress he had generated for me. But the biggest alleviation was to let me go. 

Ironically, one shoe broke during the treatment of the X-rays. I realized it had broken the second I repossessed them after the carousel. It didn’t bother much that one shoe broke. More concerning was that the other one didn’t. There’s always a reassuring feeling in symmetries.

WHEN YOU WANT TO ACHIEVE PEACE THE MOST ABSURD THING TO DO IS TO TAKE SIDES.

“It’s a victory when the weapons fall silent and people speak up”.

“I need ammunition, not a ride”

Until Meloni, Biden, and other “leaders” continue to unconditionally support Zelensky, and provide him “ammunition”, a moment of “peace” will be pushed out.

Proof (unless they are ridiculously ingenuous) that their goal isn’t “peace” is that they are taking the wrong avenue to achieve it. And they likely know that. The only viable avenue to achieve peace is “dialogue”. Dialogue must take place between two (or more) parties. I am really curious why not a single “leader” has made a serious and consistent effort to create an opportunity in which Mr Putin and Mr Zelensky (or their representatives) sit at the same table.

One of the reasons could be that the leaders of the world know that either Putin or Zelensky is undoubtedly in the wrong. And, therefore, his request couldn’t even be discussed. Another reason could be that, despite what we want to let people know, one of the two is undoubtedly in the right. If we bring them around a table we are going to open a can of worms because, at that point, “We the People” will likely know the true story. Another reason could be that there are intertwined interests between the “leaders” and their “representatives” at war (in other words, either Putin or Zelinsky are in the hands of someone pulling the strings).

By continuing to send “not a ride, but ammunition” the result can only be a bigger warfield, with more destruction and death. WHEN YOU WANT TO ACHIEVE PEACE THE MOST ABSURD THING TO DO IS TO TAKE SIDES. When you take sides in a war, you are at war. (Note, taking sides is different from having and expressing an opinion).

NOTE: I am not taking sides. Read my words with an open mind!

What’s behind this mess is way more than Putins’ aggression to Ukraine. And the info is right there, on the other TV or YouTube channel, ready for everyone to devour it. Use your remote!

“It’s a victory when the weapons fall silent and people speak up”. {Zelensky)

“I need ammunition, not a ride”. (Zelensky)

Up to you!

You call it, call it, and call it over and over again. And it doesn’t happen. “What’s up with this law of attraction, with this story I was told of manifesting?”.

Never will anything happen till you really, deeply, truly want it to. Never, till you are dead inside and the door is locked, will it be allowed outside.

Deeper you’ve got to manifest. Deeper, deeper! I know, it’s not a walk in the park. Because of all the fear, all the panicking of leaving the comfy and soft path your steps already know. The love for familiarity is arguably the most dangerous enemy of growth.

Oh well… up to you!

I want some freedom.

“I want freedom,” he said.

“Freedom?” he replied.

“Yes, I want to be free”.

“You sure can. But you have to learn how to deal with freedom, young buy. Freedom contains slippery inconsistencies that will rip your face off if you don’t know how to ride its wave. When you realize how much freedom you yourself contain, you want to pull away from it. The infinite is scary! The matrix, on the other hand, has some taste of coziness…

Letters

I started working on this journey as if never was it supposed to see the light of the day. That’s why you might see some brightness in it. Letters.

If it wasn’t me, I would say “this dude’s a motherfucker”. To ruminate about dreams and sit at the piano the minute you fell off the couch; to meditate and jot down the burdens you just sweated off; to come back from hypnosis and listen to the recordings from your past lives and not think that you’re sick in the head… Those are things that many shy away from. Too much truth is, like freedom, a double bladed sword.

Others come to visit every night. We see, touch, and love them. They mess up our sheets. They scare you. Lol. Chill out! They only want to gauge how much soul has survived in us. Have we consumed it all yet?

It’s not easy to connect the dots because the dots are already connected: wrong vantage point. There is no discontinuity up there, nor down here in the heart. Dualities are creations of humans that humans rely on in order to make living palatable. They are puzzling. In fact, a hint away from the surface we are wholeness. Glimpses of discontinuity we discern are just human leftovers. Everything else, on the non-existent line of time and space, is a spacetime altogether.

To shake off the fear becomes a non-issue the minute we accept that the human condition is just a dogma. And, like every dogma, we believe in it because… just because. We believe in humanity despite the fact that no one has ever shown us once and for all that we are human. Oh well!

We constantly escape from it.

It's impressive, and somewhat disappointing, how we get to experience the present, it's colors, it's suggestions, it's promises, and even its past, only when the present is gone. Then we attempt to experience it all over again when, maybe, we sense the power to reconfigure it, recalibrate, reassess it. It's not all lost. Because time is just a variable. But our eyes would be so much brighter if only were we able to accept... it all.

Instead, we constantly escape from it.

To the point that became so difficult to see myself.

To the point that became so difficult to see myself as a separate truth from reality. Melting down into it as an anonymous dot in the the an infinite space, and yet keeping the clearest identity I've ever seen.

We turn a blind eye to reality.

We turn a blind eye to reality, we walk away, we make out faces. And yet we don't realize how many people are able to affect with the blink of an eye, with a smile. With the contagious energy of a thought.

This time around, not pic!

It’s always challenging to communicate in an era of mass disinformation. Among many delusional journalists, spare exceptions, yet strong and lucid, convey convincing points that deserve (at least for now) the label of “Truth” . Because of that, they are under systematic attack.
Most of us are clueless of what is really going on. A ‘big news’ is often divulged to hide a huge one. Generally, the public is content with what is going on. That is, in many respects, the reason for many frustrations. A distraction represents a stronger attraction than a truth. People want to keep their minds busy (distracted), not involved (attracted). They want their mind to bounce off of something, not to be conveyed into concepts.
Just a few are really embracing the path of discovery. Many, too many, are just happy with the status quo. “What’s behind it?”... “What are they trying to hide?”...”What could be the real reason that prompted what they are saying?”... These are ‘outdated’ questions. I tell my mom: “Until it’s verified by YOU, don’t believe it”. In most cases, it’s impossible to verify anything. Therefore, don’t believe it!
The discovery of the truth implies a great deal of complex work. At times, it’s a threatening and even intimidating work. The process of discovery has another undeniable implication: it finds you alone. As one works his/her way into the path of truth, one inevitably runs into aha moments from which, in most cases, the untrained mind shies away. Those who didn’t give up are always "crazy”.
It costs time and emotional involvement to discover the truth, it isn’t just a scientific endeavor. Lies have been taught to us since the day we were born. And they were taught to our parents from the day they were born. Lies have then been reshaped and blended into beliefs. And, from beliefs, they’ve been crystallized into dogmas. And dogmas have then substantiated and validated by everyone, even by ourselves. That says a lot about how ‘cheapened’ our self-esteem is. In regards to ‘small talks’ and fibs we are judgmental. When it comes to universal lies, we are compliant.
I don’t know the truth. But I'll fearlessly struggle to discover it.

I love tea.

I love tea. Because, every time I have a sip, it reminds me how much better coffee is.

Like a roller coaster.

Like a roller coaster about to crest the top and dive down. Ready to feel the power of the wind allover myself, and beyond, and let it all go away. Someone else will I be at the end of the ride? Confidently, I am compelled to say: "Yes".

Just the way it is.

I wish you were here, waking up with me. I would make coffee for you and bake bread. 

I would snatch a flower from our neighborhood’s yard, the flower that chose to grow into our side, the flower that was meant to be for you.  And, while staring at the sun that is confusingly becoming aware of our light, I would hand it over to you. I would play piano for you and sing a song. Your song. Then we would sneak back into bed and I would start kissing you all over. Just like last night, when I dreamt of you being with me. After that, we would wake up for the second time. And we would come back home after a walk on the beach. In the meantime, I would have told you “I love you” many  times. So you don’t forget. 

I would not splinter our colors into the blender of any metamorphosis. I would just keep them the way they are, no matter what they tell us: “it’s going to be amazing!”... “you’ll feel like God!”. 

No, it’s so magnificent, in its simplicity, just the way it is.   

NOTHING WILL BE LIKE BEFORE, BUT NOTHING WILL CHANGE AS MUCH AS WE THINK.

NOTHING WILL BE LIKE BEFORE. BUT NOTHING WILL CHANGE AS MUCH AS WE THINK.

Earthquakes; our routines are shaking in sync with the earth. Nothing will be like before. 

No, not true. “Nothing” is too much. For the most part, things will remain the same as before. We will still be in need of the hug that someone took from us. We will want to share a bottle of wine and make love at the end. More than before, we will want to write and relate our story. 

But something will change, indeed. And it’s now time to focus on that little something that will actually won’t be like before. This is an opportunity for a bigger change.   

I hear an unusual noise in the other room. It surprises me. I thought I was alone. Will  my curiosity urge me to get my ass out of bed and find out who the hell is my apartment? Will it be my fear instead? Or fuck the world, I don’t give a damn, I want to stubbornly and comfortably continue to live my dry, rotten, and corrupted dream? 

The earthquake came around because a shift was needed. Was it planned or man-made? Is man just riding the wave? Was it Mother Nature that shouted at us saying that we are as important as mosquitos, despite our astronomical financial skyscrapers, despite our grandiose and vacuous ambitions, and despite our made up sense of beauty and ugliness, which we are the only ones in the cosmos to believe in?

It doesn’t matter who did it. It only matters why.

I am positive: Our mission on this earth is not to obsequiously pushing buttons of prefabricated #emojis that tell everyone that “I am one of you guys, I am having the same feelings as everyone else, I am part of this programmed non-thinking and non-emotional herd. I smile just like you: I don’t know just like you don’t: It cracks me up just like it does to you: . 

I am positive: We have a higher mission. The earthquake that killed our Grandparents is a wake up call in a world that must shift gear unless it wants the end to be right around the corner. Our  Grandparents are Martyrs that died for a higher cause: our salvation. 

Let’s not disappoint them. Let’s not continue to believe in the fairy tales we are told with every bit of fake information, with every marketing message, with every flashy and fear-provoking news.

It’s time to question everything and to dissect every “fake truth.” It’s time to get your ass out of bed and find out, explore, and investigate who is in the other room. “This is my apartment. How dare you”  It’s time to #know as much as we can. It’s time to #think. It’s time to hug each other and make love again.