From a certain viewpoint, I never was a people-person. Isn’t that odd, coming from someone who spent their whole life trying to understand and relate to people? No — because nothing is either this or that.
That “millimeter eye” I’ve always had extends to everything. Literally everything. Color, temperature, language, sound, thoughts — everything, everywhere. And far beyond me too: to objects, people, scenery, books, eras.
Not for criticism, as people think and as I too once thought for a long time. For beauty. For harmony. For balance. For natural order. That’s why I’ve been drawn to physics — the physical sciences stripped of dogma. That’s also why I became an artist.
Not because I am a “Virgo,” or “a perfectionist.” Those came after. My entity chose to incarnate through them.
Observing, smelling, hearing, feeling — these were not choices for me. I literally hurt. Physically, emotionally, mentally, hurt in disharmony, in violation, whether it comes from me or from elsewhere.
That’s why I’ve never been afraid of storms. A storm is a dynamic equilibrium: multiple forces, none sovereign, none erased, held in relational balance — expressing, joining, overlapping, evaporating. The same way a pastel palette does. A sunset. A peaceful conversation.
The “wrapping-up-of-life” thing is interesting. I would never have imagined it had I not experienced it. And it can only be partially given in words, because language largely supports the journey, not the end of it.
Transformation happens many times along the way, if you allow it and change through it. Metamorphosis happens once, I think — and very rarely. You wake up in it. You don’t predict it, plan it, or work toward it. And it will not look like anybody else’s.
There are no guidelines. No maps. No “others” to turn to. And you can’t go back. What was doesn’t exist anymore. Not poetically. Physically.
No one can tell you what to say or do, or when, or how, or why. No one can show you how to be this metamorphosed version of you. You don’t even know from yesterday.
It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. But there is no other choice available.
Advice becomes meaningless. Integrity becomes the only stabilizer.
Time is no longer experienced mainly as sequence, but as causal density. Chronology loses authority. A response can ripple far beyond its moment. You hear silence because it isn’t empty.
You can’t invade, postpone, or create disharmony where and when you see it, because it hurts instantly — not later.
There is no urgency. No force.
There is a different kind of power, invisible, that holds atoms together — not clashing, not merging, but in a precise dance of attraction and repulsion, perfectly balanced, perfectly spaced.
When we don’t experience peace within us, it is within that we need to look.
The cause is never elsewhere, and never in another time. Otherwise, natural law would not exist. But it does. So: understand instead of opposing it.
Clarity often comes later. But integrity is required now.
I could always sense people’s dishonesty. Because it hurt. What changed over the years was understanding the why and the how. That is physics, not morality. Mechanics of systems, not judgment.
Something reconfigured while I was still alive, not after life.
A system that has already changed phase, learning how to exist without falsifying itself.
