Finding yourself

Finding yourself…
Just the word feels good, right?

Like a soft promise: coming back home, but inside yourself.

In this modern world where everything speeds up, where we scroll more than we breathe, being yourself has become an act of resistance.
A bold move.
But also a huge relief.

We’ve played roles for too long.
The perfect son.
The model worker.
The tough but steady lover.
The man who never cries, never doubts, always pushes forward because he “has to”.

What if we stopped that game?
Being a sacred man isn’t about obeying some old dusty script.
It’s daring to be fully alive, in tune with your heart, your body, your emotions.
It’s admitting you need space, calm, nature, brotherhood, real love, beauty, meaning.
It’s giving yourself permission to be soft and strong at the same time, vulnerable and powerful, spiritual and grounded.

Finding yourself also means making peace with who you are, and stopping the fight against yourself.
It means asking:
“What do I love?
What do I need, right now?
What truly feeds me?”

And then… follow that path.
Simply.
Deeply.
Humanly.

Because when a person is aligned, they shine.
And they spread good around them, just by being themselves.

The power of a smile

A smile.
So small, so simple… and yet, it’s almost a weapon of mass construction for happiness!

A smile is like sunshine hitting you in the middle of an emotional hangover.
You might cross someone on the street, on a bus, in the supermarket… and bam, they hit you with a real, free, almost magical smile.
And suddenly, something in you relaxes.
Like your heart just grabbed a coffee break.

And the crazy part?
Even a fake smile, a little forced at first, already triggers chemical reactions in your body.
Your brain, that gullible guy, believes it!
It releases dopamine, serotonin, and other magic potions.
Result: you feel better… even if you didn’t believe it at first.

A smile can change a whole day.
Yours or someone else’s.
It can open doors, cool down tension, warm up a frozen heart.
And all that, without a word, without effort.

So why hold back?

Smile.
For yourself, for others, for the universe.
A smile is like a silent “hello” from the soul.
And who knows, maybe today’s simple smile could trigger tomorrow’s miracle.

Traveling all over, especially in Asia, I now get why they call Thailand, very rightly, the land of smiles.

Yeah sure, let’s be honest: they love your money, no doubt.
Let’s not kid ourselves.
But let’s skip that tourist detail.

What really touched me was something else.

Buddhism is everywhere there.
Not painted on the walls, but rooted in hearts.
And it teaches one simple thing:
whatever happens to you, it’s your fault.
That’s it.
Not your neighbor’s fault, not your mom’s, not your cat’s karma.
Nope.
Yours.
You created it.
Period.

And that little detail changes everything.

Because once you stop looking for someone to blame, well… you breathe easier.
You take a deep breath, and you find calm inside.
And then?
Everyone smiles.

Even the Burmese next door are masters at it, with a purity in their eyes that almost makes you want to cry with tenderness.

And if you’re still not convinced, go watch a Muay Thai fight.
Seriously.
On one side, the Thai guy, smiling easy, even when he takes a punch to the jaw.
On the other, the western tourist, red like a furious tomato, ready to bite, pumped full of ego and testosterone.
It’s… fascinating.
And it makes you think.

Here, gentleness, kindness, goodness aren’t seen as weakness.
They’re a way of life.
A heart’s elegance.
Almost a grace.
And honestly, it makes you want to learn how to smile better, truer.
And way more often.

Other people’s judgment

Other people’s judgment is one of the biggest blocks to our personal and professional growth.
We all feel it.
It can hurt us… or on the flip side, flatter our ego.

But in the end, it’s up to us: how much importance do we give it?

Some people literally live by other people’s gaze.

But let’s ask ourselves: is it really that important?
After all, there are even folks who didn’t like Ridley Scott’s Gladiator… a movie known as a masterpiece!
If people can disagree on something that obvious, should we really stress over a few random critics?

The real value of an opinion

Especially in the age of social media, criticism flies everywhere, often free and anonymous, behind a screen.
Negative comments, sometimes even positive ones… but what are they really worth?
Most of them should just “go in one ear and out the other”.

A wise man once said:
“When someone wants to harm you or speaks badly of you, sit under a tree by a river: one day, you’ll see their body float by.”

Harsh image, but it shows a simple truth: what people throw at you belongs to them.
Everyone wears their own glasses — shaped by their upbringing, experiences, wounds — and sees the world through that lens.
It’s not yours.

In short

Other people’s judgment shouldn’t be a wall.
Step back, keep smiling.
It’s all good.

Other people’s judgment…
This one hits me hard, because I suffered from it for a long time.
Even today, while it doesn’t hurt the same way, it still gets me sometimes.
When I feel that childlike joy of wanting to share something that makes me laugh, amazes me, or brings me pleasure… I sometimes hold back, already imagining how it might be seen.

I longed to be understood, admired, loved, included.
But that chase cost me my authenticity.
I joined groups of friends, got seen as “the cool girl”… but at what price?
I lost myself more than once by trying to control the image others had of me.

So little by little, I started to reprogram myself.
To post what I really wanted, even if my nervous system freaked out, maybe trying to please others…
To say out loud what went against common thought.
To dare one step after another, even trembling.
Each time I choose to show up as me, I take back more freedom.

But I still have to remind myself every day, because it’s still too easy to fall back into that trap of wanting to control other people’s gaze.
Being yourself is scary.
It might be my biggest fear, actually.
But I’ve learned that daily action is my only path to freedom.

So I keep going.
Because every act of authenticity is a brave act of love, an act that brings me closer to myself.

Damn! That’s a big topic for us in this family…
And for me too?

I guess it’s because of my mom, who was so afraid of other people’s gaze, always chasing perfection in their eyes.
My whole life — well, until about 45 — I just wanted to fit in, to be like others, so I wouldn’t get rejected.
Because it felt like I needed them.
To exist.
Yeah, straight up.

So I dressed cool, talked cool, did everything to please, to be part of “the world” and not get rejected.
For other people’s judgment.
For me: “Divine Judgment”.

Laughs! 😁

Well, good thing I moved past that, right?
Because otherwise… how to say it, we could spend a whole life trying to please others, and in the end…
Why?
For what?

Stupid, right?

Attitude

When you’re full of yourself in the good way, centered, aligned, owning that little spark… everything shifts.

No need to overdo it.
No need to dress like a magazine cover or spill your life all over Instagram.

Real attitude, the one that matches your energy in the moment, is what makes you shine.
No need for jewelry or tricks.
Just you, standing tall in your sneakers (or barefoot if you’re like me), with that quiet fire in your eyes, that calm and steady confidence.

And you know what?
People feel it.
They’re drawn not by what you show, but by what you vibe.

The more you own who you are, without arrogance but with love, the more you attract people who truly see you.

It’s simple: you’re in your axis, and you radiate.

So yeah, attitude isn’t something you “work on”.
It’s what naturally comes out when you’ve got nothing left to prove to anyone.

I remember this day, in some airport in Asia…

I was waiting quietly, in one of those in-between moments when nothing happens, and suddenly, she walked past me.

Not really my type.
A bit too round, not the “beauty standards” my mind would’ve approved.
But she wore a long, flowing dress, deep red.
A dress that didn’t scream “look at me”, but rather said: “I’m good in my skin, and I move forward”.
And she did move forward… with a soft, swaying walk, almost feline, like a dancer aware of the space she takes, without putting on a show.
A walk of a free woman, or maybe just someone happy to be there, in her body, in her life.
No extras, no heels, no glossy hairdo.
Just presence.
Attitude.
Radiance.

And then, I don’t know what came over me… I started following her.

Yeah, me, the guy supposed to catch a flight, totally forgot where I was going.
For a good ten minutes, I wandered behind her like a fascinated kid, eyes wide, hypnotized by that simple, natural grace.

I never dared talk to her.
I didn’t want to break the magic, or maybe I already knew I’d received the real gift: a lesson in attitude.

Shows you it’s not the body, the look, or the words that truly seduce.

It’s the energy, the harmony between inside and outside, the truth that shines out.
And honestly… that’s gold.

You’ve probably heard this line a million times… but it’s so true.
Maybe there’s a mountain in front of you you’d like to change in your life.
And that’s good, I wish you a reality that feels right for you. But do it step by step.

Change means putting yourself in situations where you’ll have to keep learning.
And yes, you’ll be learning your whole life, all the way to old age.
So better anchor the idea that changing your personality, your character, even your view of life can actually be simple.
All it takes is accepting to shake yourself up a bit, because you never stop learning before becoming “a master” at this stuff.

When I see parents, or even my grandparents, stuck on certain ideas while it would be so easy for me to shift them, it makes me sad.
But I respect it — because it’s not my path.
What feels like a waste is reaching a point in life and saying: “Oh no, I can’t change, it’s just who I am”.
Nope.
Nothing is really “part of you”.
It’s you who decides, every day, who you want to be.

The benefits of fasting

Giving your body back its natural wisdom

Since we were kids, they told us we had to eat three times a day.
That skipping a meal was “bad for your health”.
That breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

Basically, we got conditioned like little soldiers of the full belly.

But do we even feel real hunger anymore?
Or are we just afraid of the emptiness?
That “emptiness” inside us…

Fasting is that: making room.
Letting your body breathe, unload, clean itself.
Fasting isn’t about depriving yourself, it’s giving yourself an inner spring cleaning.

Biologically, it’s amazing.
Freed from nonstop digestion, the body kicks in autophagy: a super-smart cell recycling system.
It digests damaged cells, toxins, repairs itself.
Skin gets clearer, organs work better, the brain sharpens.

Spiritually, it’s even better.
When the stomach goes quiet, the soul speaks louder.
You feel lighter, more connected, more tuned into what matters.
It’s like the silence of the belly opens a channel to something bigger.

Of course, it’s not always easy.
The mind screams: “What if I die? What if I faint?”.
But no, nothing bad happens.
Or rather, yes: a miracle happens.
A return to listening to your body.

So… give it a try.
It costs you nothing and brings you a sweet personal challenge that can make you better.

Start slow.

Skip one meal.
Then two.
Then maybe a whole day.
Listen to your body.
Watch your mind.
Feel your heart.

And above all: don’t be afraid of the emptiness.
That’s where the Universe starts talking to you.

As a kid on the farm, Sundays were fasting days.
Not for health reasons, but because religion said it was spiritual — and honestly, we were poor.
Two birds with one stone.
In the end, thanks Christians: it gave rest to the body and the wallet.

Years later, in my forties, I wanted to feel that raw hunger again.
Not the little 11 a.m. craving, but REAL hunger.
The kind a kid feels after three hours of football, yelling: “Mom, I’m starving!”

So I tried fasting.
One day, two… seven.

Then fourteen.
Yeah, fourteen.

And guess what? I didn’t die.
Better: I loved it.

My energy skyrocketed, my focus too.
My stomach? On vacation.
My brain? Turbo mode.
My guts? Chill.
My mind? Zen… or almost.

Okay, first two days, I had visions of crunchy baguettes and saucy dishes winking at me.
But after that, nothing.
I worked better, trained like a ninja, and discovered… time.
Time we waste eating, cooking, digesting, thinking about food…
All that: POOF, gone.

And the craziest part?
My taste buds.
Poor things, they cried.
For two days, they begged: “Give me flavor! Crunch! Melt!”
Nothing doing.
They held on, until they made me dream of raclette at 3 a.m.

That’s when I knew: fasting isn’t hard for the body.
It’s hard for the hedonist in me.
But even that, you tame.

I kept doing it my way.
No prep days before, no slow re-entry after.
Just me, my gut, and my body saying: “Alright boss, let’s go”.

And afterwards?
I put back some weight, but I gained a ton of clarity.

I got that fasting isn’t just skipping food, it’s a reset.
Physical, mental, emotional.
It’s telling your body: “Here, gift. Clean up.”
Since then, I fast from time to time, my way.
Liquid.
With or without coffee.
With or without rum (yeah, happened once).

But always with respect for this body that, when you really listen, knows exactly what to do.

You just gotta leave it alone.

Living in coherence with the energy given to us at birth

Inside each of us is a unique energy.
A vibration that’s ours, like an invisible fingerprint left by the Universe the moment we were born.

Call it your essence, your inner fire, your energetic design… doesn’t matter.
It’s there.
It’s been with you since your first breath.

And that energy isn’t random.
It’s there to guide you.
To whisper every day what you came here to live.
It’s on you to listen.
And above all: to live in coherence with it.

Here’s the key word: coherence.

Every decision we make, every commitment, every road we take, should align with who we really are.

If not?
We drift. We burn out. We move away.

And one day, we wake up… empty.
Beside our own life.

Some simple examples:

1. You’re ultra-sensitive, intuitive, creative… and you spend your days locked in an office crunching numbers that bore you? Incoherence.
2. You’re a hands-on guy, love concrete projects… and you spend your time filling Excel sheets? Incoherence.
3. You’re a woman who loves freedom, space, movement… and you live in a tiny flat on the 8th floor of a gray Paris tower? Incoherence.
4. You’re passionate about teaching, sharing, passing knowledge… and you work in an open space selling insurance? Incoherence.

Of course, we all make compromises.
There are bills to pay, kids to feed, constraints.
But there’s a difference between a temporary adjustment, and living against your energy for 20 years.

That’s where coherence becomes a compass.
Not a tyranny.
A gentle but firm compass.
A guiding line that helps you choose.

And in the long run, coherence pays off.
One day you find yourself saying:
“I’m here because I made coherent choices.
Because I respected myself.
Because I didn’t betray my energy.”

And that… is powerful.

Because living in coherence isn’t just having a “good life”.
It’s living a life full of meaning, alignment, inner peace.

So ask yourself often:

“Is what I’m about to do aligned with who I am?”

And if not… change direction.
Even just a little.
Your real road is always waiting.
It doesn’t disappear.
It just gives you time to find it again.

New global trend: modifying your body

But watch out, not to breathe better, run faster, give birth easier or live longer.
No no… just to look “pretty”.
To look like an Instagram filter.
My God… what are we sliding into, as a collective?!

We’re not even trying to be strong, healthy, or functional anymore.
We just want to be smooth, symmetrical, forever young, even if it means looking like a melted plastic toy.

And it starts small:

💉 A little “preventive” botox to smooth the forehead.
💋 Then some filler in the lips to “plump them up”.
👃 And why not a little nose job?

🎯 Result: you get hooked on this virtual version of yourself.

And the worst part?
You don’t know how to stop.
It’s a bottomless pit.

A race against time… a race nobody ever wins.

Real examples:

1. The 32-year-old woman who wanted to “just” fix her dark circles… and ended up with cheeks like a champion hamster.
2. The guy who got six-pack implants… just to stare at them in the mirror, though he never set foot in a gym.
3. Or that influencer, unrecognizable after 5 years, nothing like the natural girl people once admired.

Losing your original face also means losing your vibrational identity.
You don’t have the same energy.
Not the same imprint.
You become a copy.
A clone.
An Ikea mannequin, “before-and-after” version.

And that’s not just sad: it’s dangerous.
For self-esteem.
For your relationship with your body.
For the generations coming after us.

Accepting yourself as you are is a real act of courage today.
Even with:

1. A shiny bald spot,
2. Smaller-than-average breasts,
3. A crooked nose,
4. Wrinkles telling your struggles…

It’s not easy.
But it’s healthy.
Real. Alive.

And most of all:
No facelift will ever give you self-love.
No injection will ever give you confidence in your light.
No retouch will ever replace the magnetic charm of someone who fully owns themselves.

Real beauty comes from that kind of authenticity.
And that… never gets old.

Personal story (the day I planted carrots on my head)

Around 30, I got hit with a little hair drama: my hairline started creeping back…
Panic mode on.
I felt like a poor man’s Samson, low-cost version: as my hair left, so did my manhood, spirit, and sex appeal, melting away like snow in the sun.

Next thing, I land in some “specialist’s” office, a guy with stars (and dollar signs) in his eyes, who sells me a full collection of miracle products.
Serums, shampoos, lotions…
My bathroom reeked of chemicals and bottled hope.

6 months later?
Still bald in the front.

Next step suggested by mister?
A hair transplant.

But back then, transplants weren’t subtle.
It was more like carrot planting, neat veggie rows across the forehead.
And since I was desperate (and young), I said yes.

3 months later, there I was, proud of my little sprouts.

But one night, tipsy after drinks with friends at a bar, dim lights…
A girl stares at me and drops, half-innocent, half-cruel:
“So Phil, did you get a hair transplant?”

Silence.
Cosmic slap.
What I wanted to hide lit up like a spotlight in the desert.
Next morning, emotional hangover, I went home, grabbed tweezers… and ripped them all out.
Yeah. All of them.
Goodbye carrots.

But it didn’t end there…
Behind my skull was now a bright white scar, permanent souvenir of that botched op.

And 5 years later, shaved head monk-style… it stood out.
Then came the genius idea:
“What if I tattooed it to fake hair?”
Off to the tattooist.
I asked for tiny vertical strokes.
Like a hair barcode.

Result?
Not bad at first.

But 10 years later, with a shaved skull under the sun, it wasn’t hair anymore, it was a bluish-black band.
An alien mark on the back of my head.
And from there… no way back.
Except… tattooing the whole back of the head.

Lesson of the day:
When you start messing with your body, you never know where it’ll take you.
What seems harmless today can become a burden in 10 years.

---

And my daughter? you ask.
At 19, she wanted boobs.
“I’ve got small ones, I just want to feel more like a woman…”

Surgery.
Boobs.
Smiles.

Except 10 years later…
She felt rejection inside.
Like her whole body was saying: “These things aren’t mine.”

And then, total respect: she did what very few do.
She had them removed.

Two stories, two bodies, same lesson:
We try to “fix” the natural to please, to exist, to fill a hole…
But deep down, we only add noise over a signal that was already clear: be yourself and accept yourself.

Like my dad said, at 18 I got breast implants, insecure about being too small.
Beyond the physical pain of being cut open under the arms, moving the muscle, sliding in big silicone bags, I was never really happy with the result.

Yes, I had bigger boobs.
Yes, I finally fit the perfection mold sold by magazines and social media.
But a few months later, the mask dropped: I still felt insecure.
I had just shifted the problem elsewhere.
A new “flaw” to fix.
On top, my right implant sat too low.
New surgery, new scar.
😥

Only years later did I understand: I hadn’t added to love myself, I had added to hide.
To fill instead of facing.
To run instead of accepting.

One day, in meditation, I had a vision: two foreign objects sitting right above my heart chakra, blocking my light, my love, my radiance.
And I just knew.
I knew that to find my truth again, I’d have to remove them.

So I did. Eight years later.
A third anesthesia, a fourth scar, two deflated breasts and stretched skin… but above all an immense desire: to accept myself as I am.
Today, I’m proud I made that choice.
My skin took time to heal, my sensations too. But now I love my small chest.
I love my scars.
Because they tell my story.
Because they prove that one day, despite my doubts, I chose love.
Love for myself.

I never told you. at least not “enough”.
I think what you did was heroic and deeply conscious.
I don’t know anyone who had the guts to remove implants while they were still fine, beautiful, and gave you the chest you thought you wanted.

Nobody’s as crazy, or as aligned, as you are…
It takes massive courage, a lot of guts, and above all rare depth!
I’m proud of you, my daughter!