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There is a truth that pulsates under the layers of expectations:They are not made of duties , but of hungry roots of heaven.
Cultivate myself how to take care of a secret vegetable garden - stroking sprouts of curiosity, watering fruitful doubts, letting the mystery fertilize the terrain of the soul.
My revolution has her hands dirty with earth.
I learn the art from plants to grow towards light without betraying one's roots.
In the daily discipline of not-forces , I discover a paradox: the more I agree with my inner rhythms, the more I become an instrument capable of re -ing unpublished harmonies with the world around me.
The continuous research of beauty is my secret grammar.
I am looking for it not in the mirrors but in the places where lifeless lifeless life: in the gesture that arises before thought, in the thrill of an idea that turns on the nerves, in the silence that knows how to become singing.
When I sing this embodied beauty, I stop possessing it and I become bridge and channel for something bigger.
In exploring myself as an archaeologist of the heart , I find maps for different relationships.
No more pyramids to climb but plains to cross together.
Each meeting is a laboratory where you can experience a new alphabet: you learn to give pieces of truth without demanding answers, listening to others as complex ecosystems, to recognize that the real authority is born from below, like mushrooms after the rain.
My fears are tenacious weeds.
I observe them without judgment, aware that they too are part of the landscape.
The cure lies in not letting them suffocate the rare flowers of my inner freedom.
This is why every evening he sow questions in the dark, confident that some answers will sprout at the right time.
Living like this is not a utopia but a practical art.
It requires daily heroism to choose, again and again, against the sirens of conformism.
It is to cultivate the strange audacity to flourish even when everyone around prod the trees to make it wood as burning.
In the end, I discover that true freedom resembles a mobile garden with an ecosystem that walks, transforms, creates temporary oases wherever it takes its gaze.
The secret is all in that subtle aging between the courage of being root and the grace of becoming wind.
A
Albert
