I’m not sure why, but it seems that we so easily assign sexual connotations to any outward show of affection. Why can’t we care and be affectionate for no reason? Why can’t we just accept and love each other simply because we share the same world? I think we’re all loving beings by nature; we just need to unlearn all the ego based bs that an upside-down world has taught us about connection and love. Peace & Love 🙏🏾❤️ Continue reading Just love

The river that flows into me comes from the same spring as yours. I feel its gentle currents weaving through my soul, a reminder of our shared origin. Each ripple carries whispers of our intertwined destinies, echoing the harmony of our beginnings. As it meanders through the landscape of my being, it nourishes the roots of my existence, just as it does yours. In moments of stillness, I sense the unity of our paths, the way our waters merge and diverge, only to find each other again. The river is a testament to our connection, a silent promise that no … Continue reading Shared Springs

Il y a des jours où le silence des autres pèse plus lourd que les mots. Je me souviens d’un hiver — pas celui des saisons, mais celui du cœur. À cette époque, j’étais entourée de visages, mais aucun ne me regardait vraiment. Les sourires étaient mécaniques, les gestes vides. Et moi, je me débattais dans une mer d’indifférence glaciale. C’est là que j’ai compris une vérité que les livres ne m’avaient jamais enseignée : Pour connaître la valeur de la générosité, il faut avoir souffert de la froide indifférence des autres. Ce n’est pas une maxime, c’est une cicatrice. … Continue reading 🌙 La lumière dans le froid

September 13, 2025 Today, Brazil falls silent for a moment—not for lack of sound, but in reverence to the maestro who turned noise into poetry. Hermeto Pascoal, the wizard of sound, has left us. And with him, a piece of our country’s musical soul ascends to the heavens. Hermeto was not just a musician. He was an alchemist, an inventor, a visionary. He played the invisible. He made nature his orchestra, life his score. With a pan, a pig, a cloud—everything became music in his hands. He taught us that the entire world is an instrument, and that creative freedom … Continue reading 🎼 Tribute to Hermeto Pascoal 🎼

No silêncio do mundo, um som se despede.Não foi um acorde comum — foi um universo inteiro.Hermeto, alquimista dos ruídos e das almas,fez da barba um instrumento, da água uma sinfonia,e do Brasil, um palco para o impossível. Albino de luz própria,via cores onde o mundo via sombras.Falava com peixes, encantava sapos,e ensinava que a música não tem jaula,não tem pauta, não tem fim. Hoje, o vento sopra em dó maior.Os pássaros fazem solos em sua homenagem.E cada xícara, cada panela, cada folha que vibracarrega um pouco do seu espírito livre. Você não partiu, Hermeto.Você se dissolveu no som.E agora, … Continue reading O Som Que Virou Eternidade

Don’t let me tell you that I am always confident; my voice can be as loud as a lion’s roar, my courage as great as the mountains. But there will be days when I do not believe in myself enough to think out loud, when I am too afraid of the answer to ask if you think I am pretty, too afraid of the question to speak it, and my backbone is nowhere to be found. My moments of bravery are merely comprised of the 90% of doubt I have mixed with 10% of the thought that I will only … Continue reading Don’t let …

My age continues with the house lights on, casting a warm glow that patiently waits for other lights to join. In this illuminated space, my mind thinks, studies, research, and loves. It decides to fight for noble causes, embracing the battles that matter. Amidst all this, it shelters my humility, a quiet strength that guides me through the journey. As the days pass, I find solace in the gentle hum of life around me. The house lights flicker with the rhythm of my thoughts, each one a beacon of hope and resilience. I am not alone in this endeavor; the … Continue reading My Age, My Journey

What a strange language this is that I use to forget myself. There are days when not even all the caffeine in the world is enough for me. I write to whoever may read, as if the words could find an unknown recipient, someone who understands what even I cannot decipher. This is the act of letting it out, but where is the inside? The inside is a noisy silence, a pre-art, a space full of pre-things waiting to be named. It is an organized chaos, a universe in potential, waiting to be discovered. The inside is what I invented, … Continue reading The Inside and the Word

In the word, I become docile, I chew life politely, I heal. In the word, I tie the memory, I wrestle with sadness, and every other day, I consecrate myself a survivor. In the quietude of words, I find the softness that shapes me. Each syllable is a piece of life that I chew carefully, savoring the lessons it brings. Through them, my wounds close, healing slowly, as if each letter were a stitch. Words are the ropes I use to tie my memories, keeping them close but under control. With them, I face sadness, turning it into a battle … Continue reading The Power of Words

Here in this body are the sacred rivers, flowing with the essence of life itself. The commitment to our immediate embodied experience is the most radical commitment we could ever make. To commit to this life – right here, right now, as it is – is the unbearable and direct path into the love and freedom that we all so long for. When sadness comes calling, grief appears, shame arrives, and anxiety comes for coffee, I do not mistake them for ordinary visitors. They come as grace-messengers from beyond. Inside every feeling, each sensation, and every flow of emotion is … Continue reading The Sacred Rivers Within