“I forgive not to forget… but to be free.”

art : Masahisa Fukase from The Solitude of Ravens

Parabel by Ai ( Claude )

The Butterfly, the Moth, and the Edelweiss

High on a mountain slope, where the air grew thin and cold, an edelweiss flower bloomed between two rocks.
Its white petals seemed to hold the starlight even during the day.

A butterfly with bright wings visited the flower each morning. "What a marvel you are," she would say, and simply rest beside the edelweiss, feeling the warmth of the sun they shared. She asked no questions. She sought no explanations. She only knew that near the flower, the world felt complete.

One day, a moth arrived—a creature of dusk and inquiry. He observed the butterfly's devotion and found it perplexing.

"Why do you waste your time here?" the moth asked the butterfly. "This flower is merely a collection of cellulose and protein.
Its white color is simply the absence of pigment, a trick of reflected light. The warmth you feel is thermal radiation, nothing more."

The butterfly tilted her head. "Perhaps. But when I am here, I am happy."

"Happiness," the moth scoffed, "is merely a chemical response—dopamine and serotonin interacting with neural receptors.
What you call beauty is just evolutionary programming designed to guide you toward nectar."

Day after day, the moth continued. He measured the edelweiss, calculated the angle of its petals, analyzed the composition of its scent.
He explained to the butterfly how her eyes processed color, how her brain constructed meaning from meaningless stimuli,
how everything she experienced was reducible to mechanics and molecules.

Slowly, the butterfly began to see the edelweiss through the moth's words. The petals became cellular structures. The starlight became photons.
Her joy became chemistry. Each explanation was like a shadow cast across her heart.

One morning, she arrived at the flower and felt... nothing. Where wonder had lived, now only definitions remained.
She understood everything and experienced nothing at all.

"Now you see clearly," said the moth, pleased with his work.
"No," whispered the butterfly, and she flew away, searching for something she had lost— though she could no longer remember what to call it.

The moth remained by the edelweiss, surrounded by all his knowledge, cataloguing and explaining.
And though he lived in the full light of the sun, he never understood why everything had become so dark.

The edelweiss, for its part, went on blooming—untouched by explanation, radiant with a truth that neither questioned nor answered, but simply was.

Art : Villus Ardickas

We have become one
in such a way,
that I am confused whether
I am you,
or you are me.

When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don’t even exist.

By day I praised you
and never knew it.
By night I stayed with you
and never knew it.

I always thought that
I was me -- but no,
I was you
and never knew it.

Rumi 🧡

"De ziel is op een bepaalde manier alle zijnden, als mogelijkheid." - Aristoteles – Metafysica
Art:Owen Gent

Learning

Learning

After some time, you learn the subtle difference between
holding a hand
and imprisoning a soul;
You learn that love does not equal sex,
and that company does not equal security,
and you start to learn….
That kisses are not contracts and gifts are not promises,
and you start to accept defeat with the head up high
and open eyes,
and you learn to build all roads on today,
because the terrain of tomorrow is too insecure for plans…
and the future has its own way of falling apart in half.

And you learn that if it’s too much
even the warmth of the sun can burn.

So you plant your own garden and embellish your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring flowers to you.

And you learn that you can actually bear hardship,
that you are actually strong,
and you are actually worthy,
and you learn and learn…and so every day.

Over time you learn that being with someone
because they offer you a good future,
means that sooner or later you’ll want to return to your past.

Over time you comprehend that only who is capable
of loving you with your flaws, with no intention of changing you
can bring you all happiness.

Over time you learn that if you are with a person
only to accompany your own solitude,
irremediably you’ll end up wishing not to see them again.

Over time you learn that real friends are few
and whoever doesn’t fight for them, sooner or later,
will find himself surrounded only with false friendships.

Over time you learn that words spoken in moments of anger
continue hurting throughout a lifetime.

Over time you learn that everyone can apologize,
but forgiveness is an attribute solely of great souls.

Over time you comprehend that if you have hurt a friend harshly
it is very likely that your friendship will never be the same.

Over time you realize that despite being happy with your friends,
you cry for those you let go.

Over time you realize that every experience lived,
with each person, is unrepeatable.

Over time you realize that whoever humiliates
or scorns another human being, sooner or later
will suffer the same humiliations or scorn in tenfold.

Over time you learn to build your roads on today,
because the path of tomorrow doesn’t exist.

Over time you comprehend that rushing things or forcing them to happen causes the finale to be different form expected.

Over time you realize that in fact the best was not the future,
but the moment you were living just that instant.

Over time you will see that even when you are happy with those around you, you’ll yearn for those who walked away.

Over time you will learn to forgive or ask for forgiveness,
say you love, say you miss, say you need,
say you want to be friends, since before
a grave, it will no longer make sense.

But unfortunately, only over time…

― Jorge Luis Borges
Art: The Kiss From Above - Marcus Alvarado

Once

Once,
I ran from fear
so fear controlled me.
Until I learned to hold fear
like a newborn.
Listen to it,
but not give in.
Honour it,
but not worship it.
Fear could not stop me
anymore.
I walked with courage
into the storm.
I still have fear,
but it does not have me.

Once,
I was ashamed of who I was.
I invited shame into my heart.
I let it burn.
It told me, "I am only trying
to protect your vulnerability."
I thanked shame dearly,
and stepped into life anyway,
unashamed,
with shame as a lover.

Once,
I had great sadness
buried deep inside.
I invited it to come out and play.
I wept oceans.
My tear ducts ran dry.
And I found joy right there.
Right at the core of my sorrow.
It was heartbreak that taught
me how to love.

Once,
I had anxiety.
A mind that wouldn't stop.
Thoughts that wouldn't be silent.
So I stopped trying to
silence them.
And I dropped out of the mind,
and into the Earth.
Into the mud.
Where I was held strong
like a tree,
unshakeable,
safe.

Once,
anger burned in the depths.
I called anger into the light
of myself.
I felt its shocking power.
I let my heart pound
and my blood boil.
Listened to it,
finally.
And it screamed,
"Respect yourself fiercely now!"
"Speak your truth with passion!"
"Say no when you mean no!"
"Walk your path with courage!"
"Let no one speak for you!"
Anger became an honest friend.
A truthful guide.
A beautiful wild child.

Once,
loneliness cut deep.
I tried to distract
and numb myself.
Ran to people and places
and things.
Even pretended I was "happy."
But soon I could not run anymore.
And I tumbled into the heart
of loneliness.
And I died and was reborn
into an exquisite solitude
and stillness that connected me
to all things.
So I was not lonely,
but alone with All Life.
My heart One with all other hearts.

Once,
I ran from difficult feelings.
Now, they are my advisors,
confidants, friends,
and they all have a home in me,
and they all belong
and have dignity.
I am sensitive, soft, fragile,
my arms wrapped around
all my inner children.
And in my sensitivity, power.
In my fragility,
an unshakeable presence.
In the depths of my wounds,
in what I had named “darkness,”
I found a blazing Light
that guides me now in battle.
I became a warrior
when I turned towards myself.
And started listening.

🔥 - Jeff Foster, 'How I Became A Warrior'

The Inward Angel

The Inward Angel
Jay Macpherson

A diamond self, more clear and hard
Than breath can cloud or touch can stain,
About my walls keep mounted guard,
Maintaining an impervious reign.

But planted as an inward eye
And nourishing my patient mold,
He's soft with sense, and round him I
Ingather sun where all was cold.

Look inward Angel, cast your light:
My dark is crystal in your sight

To Live

I know you're mad.

But in all honesty, I gave you
what you wanted, what you said
too me, before you casted me away.

I'm a castaway because you wanted
me to be, so don't be mad for
withholding what you expected: me

“You have no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You. Nothing seemed right. What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the ocean.
Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.
It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.
So I've brought you a mirror. Look at yourself and remember me.”

― Rumi

How to avoid silly errors and opinions

How to avoid silly errors and opinions: “To avoid the various foolish opinions to which mankind are prone, no superhuman genius is required.
A few simple rules will keep you, not from all error, but from silly error. If the matter is one that can be settled by observation,
make the observation yourself. Aristotle could have avoided the mistake of thinking that women have fewer teeth than men,
by the simple device of asking Mrs. Aristotle to keep her mouth open while he counted. He did not do so because he thought he knew.
Thinking that you know when in fact you don't is a fatal mistake, to which we are all prone. I believe myself that hedgehogs eat black beetles, because I have been told that they do; but if I were writing a book on the habits of hedgehogs, I should not commit myself until I had seen one enjoying this unappetizing diet.
Aristotle, however, was less cautious. Ancient and medieval authors knew all about unicorns and salamanders;
not one of them thought it necessary to avoid dogmatic statements about them because he had never seen one of them.”

— Bertrand Russell, Unpopular Essays (1950), Ch. VII: An Outline of Intellectual Rubbish (1943), p. 103

Russell continues:

“There are three ways of arriving at an opinion on any subject. The first is to believe what one is told; the second is to disbelieve it; and the third is to examine the matter for oneself.
The overwhelming majority of mankind practise the first method; of the remainder, the overwhelming majority practise the second; only an infinitesimal remnant practise the third.”

— Bertrand Russell, Mortals and Others, Bertrand Russell’s American Essays 1931–1935, Vol. II, Essay. 37: What to Believe, p. 454 (24 August 1931)

Projectie

Het zal wel donker zijn, en stil, als je er niet meer bent.
Misschien zo stil en donker als het ademloos moment
waarop het zaallicht dimt voordat de film begint,

Dat ogenblik. De hele eeuwigheid. Misschien.
Maar als je droomt dat je een vlinder bent,
kun je evengoed een vlinder zijn
die droomde dat hij mens was.

Je mag dit nooit vergeten. Op een dag
kust een van ons de ogen van de ander dicht
en moet dan weten: dit is louter pauze totdat alles
weer opnieuw begint. Jij en ik – geen stof, maar licht.

- Ingmar Heytze, uit de bundel: Het ging over rozen

art: Venus Butterfly - Salvador Dali

Once, an encounter

Ichi-go Ichi-e (ento) - De waarde van het onherhaalbare moment
Elke ontmoeting in het leven is uniek en zal niet op dezelfde manier worden herhaald.
Dit is de betekenis van Ichi-go Ichi-e, een onderwijs dat diep geworteld is in de Japanse cultuur, vooral in theeceremonie, maar van toepassing is op alle aspecten van het leven en vechtkunst.

De uitdrukking kan vertaald worden als "once, an encounter", dat ons eraan herinnert dat elk moment niet meer te herhalen is en het verdient om met volle aandacht geleefd te worden.
In de strijd komt dit beginsel tot uiting in de noodzaak om volledig aanwezig te zijn: een onzorgvuldig openen, een late reactie of een afleiding kunnen cruciaal zijn.
In het leven nodigt het ons uit om elke interactie te waarderen alsof het onze laatste is, dankbaarheid en bewustwording van het nu.

Als in het zwaard, als in thee, als in het leven: elk moment is uniek. Er zal nooit meer zo een zijn.

Gabriel Benitez©
Art: Musashi

🌸🌸

N3xt Time

next time you throw someone into the abyss and the void,
ask yourself, if it was your fear of love that made
you decide that your single truth was really the reality of
the other. And the rule-set the same-one that made you,
and the other, monsters in your own thinking.

One mind to rule them all, One mind
to be free, One mind too in darkness bind them.

There is not one truth, because they are not the same
as a facts. Facts are outcomes and material evidence
of a process, science is a mindset to find answers,
truths are lived by and are manyfold, conselieri.

Fre 8/11/25

“Ever forward, my darling wind.”

― Hayao Miyazaki, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

Art: Moebius ( hommage too Miyazaki )

"To the degree you approach the truth, your solitude will increase...Keep going.
Don’t be afraid. The worst has already taken place.
Of course, life will rip you apart again; but, as for you,
you no longer have much to do with it.
Remember this: fundamentally, you are already dead.
You are now face to face with eternity."

-- Michel Houellebecq

For my daughter

I think I was Finnish these last months..

“His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

The Uses of Sorrow

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

— Mary Oliver

One Art

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

By Elizabeth Bishop