Each birthday is a reminder: I will die.
I celebrate life because it has an end. Death makes every moment divine.
Eternity does not wait beyond death; it burns in every moment fully lived.
Among Corpses
This year, I learned from death. Its inevitability rose in my consciousness with a fierce lesson: life is fragile, and for that very reason, it must be loved, challenged with resolve, never sought in comfort. To embrace difficulty with passion—only then can more joy be brought into the world.
This year, death did not need to be summoned; it arrived on its own.
I died again—or almost. An accident, a twist of Fortune, and I would not be here.
My great-grandmother died under the weight of time. My cousin, of illness. My grandmother, by old age… and by choice.
The whims of Fortune are inevitable: death came and sat at my table. I had to ask it questions. I looked it in the eyes, searching for answers. But death does not speak; it leaves only its shadow and an absence.
So I Learned for Myself
Many questions, one conclusion: rebirth is necessary.
Or better yet, be like a mushroom: be born from death.
Dying taught me to value the fragility of life—and with it, the habit of forgiving (myself). I learned to release grudges, let go of the dead weight of hatred, to free myself from the chains of regret.
Why cling to what only rots and corrodes the soul?
I learned to love with more passion, to find beauty in what is necessary—even in the sublime tragedy of watching those we love die.
I will not deny mourning, nor flee from tears. But I refuse to be a slave to unnecessary suffering. There is something sick in turning memory into an open wound, only to keep touching it. Reliving pain is a trap.
Memory is fire: it illuminates or it consumes.
The Stories That Breaks
Seeing death exiled me forever from the lie of duality: there is no soul without a body, no body without a soul. We are a single blaze.
Mind and soul are slaves to this biological machine. As if the self could exist without its flesh—Body and mind, a single phenomenon, a single flame.
The spirit? An echo of the heartbeat, the vibration of a body that burns, that breathes, that feels.
I don’t want stories that dismember the indivisible.
Condemned— just for being born? What a ridiculous tale.
Condemned to what? To exist? To feel? To transform in every instant?
If chaos made me a human animal, why deny it?
They say liberation demands the death of desire. But if desire dies, don’t all emotions die with it? If we kill desire, what remains?
Renouncing what makes us feel alive does not seem human to me.
Denying suffering is denying joy.
I do not believe the lie in which tranquility and security are happiness. Falling into that trap is choosing death. The ultimate tranquility is death.
Only the dead enjoy absolute security… in their eternal boredom.
The Stories That Ignites
To understand the body is to understand the soul.
What use is a soul without a brain? Where would the mind be without the flesh that nourishes and sustains it? Meditation is not training the mind, nor dissolving into mystical smoke.
Meditation is sinking into one’s own flesh: feeling every breath, every vibration, every muscle tensing and releasing, every heartbeat pounding with its will to power.
If we were born by a whim of Fortune, what stops us from loving our human existence? Life itself does not ask for permission to be.
To think, feel, act as the human animal that I am—more whole, freer, lighter without imposed guilt.
We are as innocent as the lion devouring its prey. As innocent as the first life that filled the air with oxygen, not knowing it would destroy its own lineage. As the storm that uproots trees. As the sun that dries the rivers.
I do not want to flee from my emotions—I want to live them all.
Without suffering, joy is false: tragedy is the mother of all laughter and all play.
If life is fragile, every moment is a challenge: to dance or to break.
The feeling that power increases—that resistance (tragedy) is overcome… that is happiness.That is life.
The Reality of the Eternal and Perpetual Present
I am real as long as I exist in the world. And because I exist, I love it.
To love this divine world—absurd and strange—that keeps spinning without asking permission. Accepting its divinity taught me to observe more, to understand more of the processes that sustain us:
Every cell that vibrates in me. Every wind that grazes my skin. Every star that dies so I may breathe. Every ray of sunlight that nourishes this world.
Everything flows. Everything sustains everything else. Nothing is fixed.
If something were missing, reality itself would be different. Nothing stands alone. There is no independence, only interdependence.
The physical and the material merge in time: in every breath, in every second unfolding into the next.
There is no I without the world. There is no you without the sun that nourishes what you eat. Nothing is isolated: everything is rhythm in the symphony of the eternal present.
I am part of that symphony, as are you.
To understand interdependence awakens pure gratitude. And with it, every action, every moment, every sensation, every emotion is lived in its fullest splendor. Every second is joy in the perpetual and eternal present.
A vibrant melody, for those who know how to listen.
Let those who have ears to hear, hear.
To Exist, Instead of To Be
We are melody and song. Time, not matter. Existences, not “beings.”
Seeing death taught me that I am not a human being—I am a human existence.
An event in motion. A spark in an eternal flow. A link in the dance of becoming.
My body bears witness to this eternal march: if it fades, my thoughts are carried away with it.
I exist, therefore I think. There is no separation. No exile between soul and flesh.
We are time instead of matter.
Rhythm instead of essence.
Melody instead of monument.
We are the dance that endures.
I am the echo of biological, chemical, physical and electrical processes. Together, they vibrate, together they dance the perpetual melody of now. Each second affirms itself: the heart beats, I write, you choose to read.
Thank you for that.
The divine world is real as long as there are existences—human or not—that witness the eternal present. I must love this fact with innocence: I will not deny it; my path is celebration.
Let’s Play a Different Game
Dying, and watching death, forced me to change the question:
Not “How do I lessen suffering in the world?” Better:
“How do I add more joy to the world?”
If sadness and suffering are part of life, denying them is denying everything. I choose to affirm.
It doesn’t matter how it began,
how it went, or how it ended.
What matters is that it existed.
And that it burned.
I don’t want to play a game where you win by subtracting pain.
If suffering is necessary, “denying pain” becomes “affirming joy”:
love, beauty, creativity, peace, passion.
The Here
Too much is said about the beyond: that heaven is better than Earth, that death is a step toward something greater, that nirvana isnever returning.
A consolation prize— claiming it demands death.
Searching for life in the void of the cosmos makes us forget that it is already here.
This planet sustains life, the symphony of the eternal present, the relentless dance of perpetual existence.
The divine world does not belong to me. But I exist because it is. And so, I celebrate it.
Only in the vast darkness of the universe, the absurd divinity of this floating rock can burn and shine.
Only by confronting nothingness do we understand that this is all there is… and that it is enough.
Death Redeems Itself
Or better yet, be like a mushroom: Be born from death.
If void brings matter, and death springs life, what is there to lament?
The void is necessary: without it, there is no matter, fire, words, art, no meaning.
Wanting to die by one’s own will is a strange caprice. My mind may say, “I want to die,” but my body—that great reason—keeps breathing, keeps beating, keeps wanting to exist.
To empty oneself is not to disappear, but to make space for something new. By emptying myself, I can (re)discover myself.
Like the grain of wheat that falls and dies to bear fruit, pain and sorrow must be planted to bloom into joy.
Only hunger reveals the delight of eating.
Thirst is the divinity of water.
To love is to accept loss. The eternity of a single second outweighs the certainty of nothingness.
It is not the end that matters, but the intensity of the moment.
Tathāgata
I learned that to exist in a beautiful state is to see beauty in what is necessary, to participate in the world, to be part of its constant creation.
Eternity lives in the souls we touch, in the spirits we lift while our biological machinery still functions.
Some leave, others remain, some have yet to arrive.
As long as we are here, we take the torch of those who are gone. Just as one day, someone will take mine, and yours, when we can no longer be part of the absurd divinity of this floating rock or the eternal symphony of the present.
Thanks to those who are no longer here,
Thanks to those who still are,
Thanks to those who will come.
To those who were,
To those who are,
To those who will be,
I say:
“Here you were! Here you are! Here you will be!”
Thank you, for existing and for reading.
Your rhythm beats with mine in the symphony of the eternal present.
Let us bring joy to the world. That is how suffering and pain dissolve.
Let the world keep dancing.
Let the moment keep burning.
Let joy overcomes suffering.