Inspiration
Articles to inspire authentic living on the topics of resilience, spirituality, and self-growth with touches of storytelling, depth, and humor.
You can browse themes below
Do you want to explore other resources? Check my favorite books and podcasts
When I was afraid
Growing up, I would dig into my parent’s extensive and varied book collection and explore everything from the Britannica Encyclopedia, to Anthony Robbins, to Kahlil Gibran. It was in one of those books, I don’t even remember which one, that I read a phrase that would become my motto. I remember the moment of revelation it was to read it, how some kind on spiritual and intellectual door opened and changed me forever. Paraphrasing, it said that the only thing we should be afraid of is fear itself. That moment I decided to leave fearlessly.
I faltered a lot, though. The raising criminality in the place I used to call home and some close encounters to what could have been extreme tragedy made me powerless. Other than, I have tried to leave a courageous life.
Today, I had to face fear itself in a very unexpected location: the gym. I attended a very fun Zumba class. I was doing my turns and my steps while grinning bluntly. Then I felt it. First time it happened was five and a half years ago and it was back, was it? I was sliding to the right and my leg seemed to have turned more than it should, and something pulled behind my knee. I moved again and there it was. I stepped down for a second thinking I should stop and rest.
My encounter with Mr. Kent
Today I went to Costco, an experience I usually repudiate because I always go for celery and leave with a cart full of things I did not even know I wanted and most likely didn’t need.
But it was there, while pushing my cart among lemons, pineapples and batteries that I saw him. He was tall, probably 6 ft tall, with two extra inches of white hair that moved with the same vibe than a slow-moving shampoo commercial. It was a full set of hair.
Over his blue eyes, black rectangular and very hip eyeglasses. He was wearing a very puffy, long coat, the one you use to go pick the mail in Manitoba. But it was understandable. He was standing in front of the Costco Freezer. Checking his phone, a smile peeking in his face. It is not like I was shamelessly studying him, but it was impossible to not notice him. And then I noticed….
Under his blue shirt, only a few buttons open. Actually it would have been appropriately open if he was attending a party at at Caribbean resort; it was definitely too open for a New England winter. But I could not see his chest. Timidly peeking at the bottom of his neck there was a blue t-shirt. The yellow and red lines were distinctive. Under the heavy coat and the blue button down, he had a Superman T-shirt.
The Premise of Unconditional Love
For several weeks now there has been a topic circling in my head: unconditional love.
I have jotted several ideas, go back and forth in arguments and it has been hard to come up with an answer to my question: does loving unconditionally means supporting every single decision our loved ones make? Where is the line that divides unconditional from self-love?
If I put the mom’s hat on, I have to admit there seems to be no purer form of love than the one we profess our children, partly because it comes with the innate desire to protect like a lioness with all of our jaws and hoofs; to support and to encourage; to wanting to keep them away from suffering but to incite them to fly on their own.
The spouse’s hat is peculiar because it also means “I love you because we are a team and I promise to renew our vote everyday while keeping my ego as tamed as possible." Your heart swells because besides many other things, the sum is better than the parts.
I have always envisioned the friend’s hat as a steel helmet. I want to put my whole armor to fight with them whatever battle they are facing, regardless if I think there is a chance of winning or if the fight makes sense. That is the time when I know that a friendship is held by love and respect rather than circumstances.
But what happens when we don’t agree with our loved ones' decisions or opinions? Should our love pick up the pieces of our discordancies? Or should our love stand tall beside the tree of honesty?
Butterflies in the stomach
What a delicious feeling is to fall in love! Those first days when everything is a bliss, butterflies flutter in our stomach, we glow, the world seems brighter, we smile alone while remembering the object of our affection, time is eternal when we are apart from that person, time goes too fast when we are together.
That feeling is so wonderful, however....it is fleeting.
A few days ago I went to a very slow yoga class. And by slow I mean we only did like five poses. The rest of the class was just practicing awareness of every single move, of our breathing, of the space around us. That is when it hit me...mindfulness is the most similar thing to the state of infatuation.
Things that happen in a commuter train....
Rush hour train from New York City to Connecticut. I am lucky enough to find a comfortable seat on a busy ride. Commuters are carrying their briefcases, their coats, hats, umbrellas, laptops and tablets. Lots of noise cancelling headphones.
I decide to write for a while until I get distracted by a fellow passenger. In front of me, three people share a bench, their elbows and knees touching. In the middle, a man probably reaching his 70s is on his phone, what is left of his white hair carefully arranged. It is not that I am curious, but his phone is held high on plain sight, so I read as I always do.
He is on a dating app, don’t ask me which because that is not a domain I am familiar with. Now he has my full attention.
He goes to see his daily matches. A full list of women come up. I find myself judging along: “this one seems trustworthy,” “too much plastic surgery,” “too young for him.”
The key to recover strength
Last night I had a dream—not the MLKjr kind—that had kept me reflecting on a word that is very close to my heart: vulnerability.
Some time ago I discovered the importance of being vulnerable in order to heal and get stronger. Our human nature gravitates towards trying to shield ourselves from heartbreaks and in the process we band-aid our pain and pretend to go through life as if we were soldiers, closeted wounded soldiers. It is only natural to do that—who wants to be in pain?
There is no greater pain than that of being backstabbed, kicked, pushed and spitted on when we are at our lowest. Sometimes it only takes a hurtful word—a harsh judgement disguised as advice—to make us shattered when we thought we could not break into even smaller fragments. I have no doubt, however, that from those tiny pieces, we can recover ourselves like a phoenix.
The worst advisor
The two sides of my brain were passionately debating a dilemma today: what makes us stay with someone (love, friend) or something (job, project, goal)? Is it plain commitment, luck, stubbornness, fear? After lots of deliberation I could only find one common thread through all the examples I could think of. The answer was not something we need to possess but rather something we need to tame: our ego. Is there a worst advisor than ego?
Success is...
Like many other times in my life, lately I have been showered with messages about a single topic in books, conversations, and even videos on facebook. All that information has forced me to evaluate my definition of success. When do we know we have achieved something of relevance? When do we feel satisfied? When do we feel we are at the summit and are ready to pat ourselves on the back? After a lot of deliberation I have come to the conclusion that; at least for me; success has to hold all of these characteristics in order to earn its name:
Persistance
Sometimes I wonder if what I consider the most challenging part of my job is actually an obstacle shared by other artists and creative friends. Every time I sit in front of a blank canvas I have this weird, haunting feeling that I don't know what to do, as if I had never held a brush in my hand. Then I start painting, not sure how to approach the canvas, and suddenly I am making one decision after another until things start to take shape. Most of the time I think I am probably making the wrong decisions, and yet I keep going anyway; as if I was given a job where I am only an instrument and not a creator.
Reflections
Thinking today that we never know how strong our heart is until we are tested by fear, how weak is it until we are tested by love and definitely how deep it is until we are able to experience and embrace both.
About truths and lies
When the truth steps out to the light for the first time, it is usuallly mistaken with a lie. But only the truth perseveres the pass of time, becoming trees that grow taller and stronger everyday.Lies on the other hand are like weed that reproduce quickly but only become annoyances. When you decide to stick with the truth you are free to enjoy the forest, but when you decide to follow the lies, you are bound to walk looking down in a pasture full of nothing worth enjoying.
