21 ~ Origins.

Some day in January.

I came to India looking for something, seeking to understand. I had taken a big gamble—there was a lot at stake on this journey. It was something complex. I still didn't know exactly what it was or where to begin, but I needed to find the loose end of the thread— a thread I had been carrying for a long time, one that had grown too heavy. I had thought so much about how to resolve it… days, years, countries, seasons, identities…I had analyzed all its parts from every angle, direction, perspective, and variable. I had crafted theories, solutions, and objectives.

— When I reach it, everything will be resolved—I told myself, a voice-over coming from inside my head, but it wasn't me.

Does our mind really want to escape the illusion we live in? The Matrix of comfort, and music to float through, to dive into an underground world without so many bright colors—one where giant monsters lurk to prevent you from seeing. The price of freedom. I don't think the mind wants that. What kind of fool would trade the glittering distractions that numb the pain for a dimmer, quieter reality? Only a madman—or a sage.

But sometimes the mind isn't everything, and cracks begin to appear—another force within the body starts to pulse. Thankfully, I believe the "real world"—the other one over there—is ultimately more hopeful and more stable than The Matrix, but it is no less a feat of bravery.

Maybe those monsters are actually inside us, and it's just a matter of shining a light on them and learning how to deal with them. Perhaps that’s the most important task of life.

It's possible they carry the names we’ve heard over and over again: Ego, Attachment, Mind, Society, Illusion—and you can keep filling in the blanks with whatever fits you best. But we can only see them when we choose to take off the 3D cardboard glasses and look them in the eye. When we decide to take responsibility for the illusion and its fleeting pleasures—and start to wake up. It’s an opportunity—and also a choice.

We are programmed from birth—with countless stimuli, controlling paradigms, and indoctrinating collective institutions: society, family, and their mandates—guarding over us to ensure we remain aligned with the prevailing worldview. Adapted. Herd-like. Proper.

In the West, these controls probably go by the names of consumption, work, career, productivity, family, children…

In the East, family structures remain intact, and social controls are no less severe—but there seems to be a glimmer of access, a road, a small crack of light for those who want to see it. A deeper connection with the spirituality of our being and an unlimited force that flows through us, binding us to the universe, to the All, to God—or whatever we choose to call it.

I’m not sure if it’s for everyone, but the possibility feels more tangible. It’s present in the public sphere, in the streets, at the market. It’s embedded in their culture, and the path to awakening seems more accessible—if you dare. But even here, you still have to dare to take that road.

Despite all my efforts to adapt to the system—both conscious and unconscious—I was withering inside in small doses. Almost inevitably, everything was leading me to confront the idea that the answers and solutions I had constructed were an illusion. Some kind of trap. But I clung to them tightly, unwilling to let go or question them. They were the most familiar thing I had.

How do you properly question your own lifeline?

Maybe I was asking the wrong questions.

Was I even asking the right ones?

Were the ideals of happiness I pursued genuine, or just more temporary patches that would eventually fall apart the moment I reached them?

And if I finally found my dream house in the mountains—somewhere I haven’t yet identified—would I be happy?

And what if the house burned down one day?

And what if the love you thought was “the one” ends? What if the dream career wasn’t what it seemed?

Disillusion. Happiness isn’t there.

That word—disillusion—which echoes with negative connotations, is actually an omen, the culmination of a cycle of lies. The first face of awakening.

By its very nature, the first step.

That GREAT first act of courage. Taking off the 3D glasses and letting another light in. Even if, at first, it feels like death, even if that light blinds us, torments us, and we can't see.

Discovering that what we believed to be reality until now is no longer so. Looking deeper, becoming wiser, daring to doubt. Slowly uncovering that behind the blindness, there is something else. We still don’t quite know what it is, but little by little, we begin to see... That, that other thing.

The end of illusion, that first step. The very thing Kaare, my Danish Guru, spoke of so much. The disillusion with the material reality we live in as if it were the only possible one. As if it were truly "real." Understanding that what we believed for years is not. What a terrible beginning. Distressing. Very. The first great collapse and one of the most thunderous because it feels completely insane—but it is the most necessary one, to be able to build something else there.

– We are spiritual beings living in a material world. We have one foot in this reality, but we belong to another. The trick is to know that this ground we walk on is not the only truth that inhabits us, that it is nothing more than a game, and that we are more than just a body. We are much more than a material entity, and the real battle also takes place elsewhere. And understanding this: play, in the best possible way and with the greatest ease and joy for life, while always remembering our true nature: we are spiritual beings of infinite energy, we are One with the Universe, with God, with everything around us. We are made of the same essence. We are the universe, we are God too, and our power is limitless when we connect with that forgotten part.

(...) The search is not outside but within—or within through the outside—and it has to do with understanding that great misunderstanding about our nature. And in the end, if we are fortunate, the path will lead us to one final question:

Who are we really?

Who are we beyond the illusion we live in, beyond the ego, beyond matter? What remains when we peel away all the superficial layers that cover us? They made us believe for so many years that we had to search for things outside ourselves. Even God... but you see, they taught us incorrectly, and in doing so, we lost the connection. The challenge now is to break those old patterns and reconnect.

God is within us, in whatever way we understand it. We are one. There is no duality, and perhaps that is one of the deepest truths. God dwells in everything that exists: in the tiny flower, in the ant, in the tree over there, in love, and also in chaos, disease, death, and hardship.

So, if everything is God, why do we cling only to the beautiful things, believing the secret to happiness lies there?

And if it doesn't...?

We must open the other portal. We must relearn how to walk." - Kaare said.

The doors of perception, as Huxley would say:

“If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is: INFINITE.”

Yes. All roads lead to Rome. Or in our case, to Varanasi.

We all want to be happy, but where is that found? In things? In bodies? Fleeting, finite, and ever-changing.

The love of your life can leave you, you can leave them, or it can transform. Your marriage can end, and, whether we like it or not, our beloved pet will also die someday. All material things have an expiration date, and the more we fear their end, the more attachment and slavery we create around them—almost proportionally. And so, more suffering. Of course, these theoretical lines matter little if you're living your best moment or the greatest love of your life, but the key point is that, one way or another, that, too, will not last forever.

If I arrived at this moment and, consequently, at these conclusions, it is because the illusion of a great love had shattered me into pieces, and the other illusions of life had done so before as well. All the fleeting joys that could distract me had been crumbling one by one for a long time. So, the word disillusion was present in every cell of my body. I could no longer escape, even if I wanted to, because ignoring it would have been the greatest betrayal to myself—one I could never have forgiven.

If I got here, it wasn’t because I was a scholar, or brave, or because I aspired to wisdom... it was because of extreme anguish, profound disappointment, and loneliness.

But once the eyes open to a truth, they can hardly close again. A mind expanded by a new experience never returns to its original dimension, and my ideals and the principles that shaped me were making me walk forward—even if I didn't want to.

Neither a love of knowledge nor the Taj Mahal brought me to India. It was this truth that suffocated me, this existential search. And today, of course, I thank it infinitely.

It's so hard to seek happiness within oneself. I didn’t know how to do it. No one had taught me. Perhaps it's something common to many. It sounds stupid, but I didn't know where to start answering. So, I forced myself to do it in an extreme way, facing my ghosts head-on, alone and however I could—because, really, when is the perfect time if not now? Flying to the place that I felt was closest to some truth I still believed in was the most eloquent idea I could come up with. Many signs had appeared, pointing me toward this path. I was terrified, but I only had to dare to listen, and that was great because my mind was already burned out from so much thinking. So, I just listened, left everything behind, and launched myself to "fix" myself—which, in reality, would end up being more like getting to know myself again from a new perspective.

–What makes you happy? – The channel-men who connected with soul lineages asked me. I was about to turn 34, and I froze like a statue. I didn’t know what to answer, not truly from the heart, and that was a wound that had accompanied me for a long time. Since I arrived in India, I tried to resonate with that question, to ask myself patiently and lovingly, and sometimes I would answer. I started slowly, like a baby learning to walk, listing simple things. I would open my notebook and write:

-Drinking mate in the sun.

-Practicing yoga.

-Talking about things that interest me with people who interest me.

I am 34 years old, and those were my best answers—or at least, the most sincere ones.

I just wanted to cry, and that was what I did for months. So, if happiness is in the little things, why do I put so much effort into achieving the big ones? The loud ones, the ones that seek to be worthy of recognition, the ones that demand applause.

I was on the hamster wheel. What was I chasing?

I’ve been drinking mate in the sun since I was 14 years old. Why wasn’t I happy yet? Where had my mind been focused all these years, and, worse still, where was it focused even today?

–"Happiness is in the simple things" – I wrote in my notebook and smiled.

Is it easy to step out of The Matrix? This collective illusion of the material world we live in. – The voice-over returned. Work, future, profession, achievements, social mandates, recognition. What do you plan to live on in the coming years? What image do you picture yourself building by the time you're 40 or 45?—And I wasn’t even that far away.

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.

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Get out, just get out...! I really don’t need to achieve all those things I "thought I needed" more than—for now—my mate and my yoga, I told myself.

I could stay living in the Ashram, with the monks and the yogis, drinking mate on the benches in the sun, talking about simple things that matter with fellow seekers walking these halls. Spirituality, important things. Staying in this bubble... It was a liberating possibility. It felt light... In the end, I didn’t do it. It seems my karma was another one.

Stepping out of the collective illusion means entering another language, another world. Outside the consensus and the implicit agreements of understanding that allow human communication. Outside of what is "common." Outside of "normality."

Outside.

Another space. A different language. That of the few, the mystics, the weirdos, the outcasts. Outcasts not because someone excludes them, but because they themselves choose the margins to live.

Those different spaces, with their own rules. Fleeting, narrow.

Those spaces for the brave, for those who dare to jump. For those who are scared as hell like most, but are already frustrated and awake enough to understand that the way isn’t there and that they must get out.

For those who reached such a great dissatisfaction that at some point it outweighed their fear of change, and they decided to jump. Because they felt cornered, but also because they chose to.

For those who had no other option, or for those who were wise from the beginning.

The awake ones, the half-witches, the frustrated ones, the spiritual ones, the scholars, the tired ones, the simple ones, the different ones, the pure ones, the mistaken ones, the sensitive ones, the wise ones, the wounded ones, the believers.

They found that other space, one of mystery and light, where only the disciplined, the consistent, the truly passionate can understand and, little by little, begin to inhabit. To appreciate from there the most beautiful treasures of life:

The margins where the origins of rainbows are hidden. The baskets full of gold. Margins that are not margins but the gateways to a new world.

Thank you for reading ♡