Our immortal soul

Buddhism says it straight: our soul is eternal.

A kind of energy ball, packed with everything it’s lived, loved, felt, learned… in other dimensions, on other planes, or right here on Earth, this rough but crazy rich playground.
A dense playground, for those who love to dance.
A library-soul, full of stories, traumas, joys, wisdoms, and suitcases still unopened.

And honestly… it speaks to me.
How many times have I had that weird feeling, in a place, in someone’s eyes, in a quick encounter or a simple chat, of déjà vu?
Like something in me just knew.
Like I wasn’t just some random dude lost on the planet with a passport in my pocket.
There’s something bigger than me living inside.
I feel it.
There’s… something else.

So let’s push it further:
What if we already lived several lives?
Before this one, next to it, above, below, or diagonally—depending on your spiritual geometry.
It all depends on how you see space-time, the soul, the unseen.
But let’s play the game.

And what if this life was the most precious of all?
The freest, the richest?

Cause honestly… can you imagine those other lives?
Hygiene like in a post-apocalypse movie, vocabulary limited to grunts, no heating, no chocolate, no WiFi, and life expectancy ending before you even figured out what “meaning” meant.

People died at 30, teeth gone, bodies full of scars, after being forced to grab a spear and smash the neighbors.
We probably marched behind Genghis Khan, Alexander, Caesar, or Napoleon—dragged into wars we never asked for, dying for their cause.

So yeah, chances are we all still carry, in our subtle bodies, a few arrows, cannonballs, or emotional daggers stuck in us.
Not showing up on X-rays, but very real, wedged between chakras.

The Essenes—yep, they still exist—got some wild healing protocols to pull that stuff out.
And trust me, it feels damn good to remove an energetic spear stuck in your shoulder blade since 1342, or an arrow in your back that’s been causing pain for ages.

So… many lives? Why not.
That would explain “talents out of nowhere.”
That 6-year-old kid playing Chopin with eyes closed.
That teenage girl coding AIs while you, at 15, were still fighting with your VCR.

We all carry treasures.
Ancient memories, old knowledge, skills put on pause.
Our soul forgets nothing.
It’s just our brain that’s a bit slow to boot up.

What if we go even further with the game?
What if time wasn’t linear?
What if our lives weren’t just behind us, but also ahead, in parallel, or in other forms of existence?
What if we already tested the future, lived in worlds our eyes don’t see yet but our cells remember somehow?

Maybe we chose to incarnate here and now, right in this turning point, this crossroads where many worlds overlap.
A unique moment: the rise of tech flirting with the invisible, instant access to infinite info, the chance to be plugged into everything all the time.
Humans never had so many tools, so many mirrors, so many temptations, so many keys.

It’s a revolutionary playground.
A testing ground where shadow and light race side by side.
So why not play with that idea?
Why not imagine I already lived in 3427, with codes, challenges, and stakes I can’t picture yet… but maybe I already feel the echo?

And what if this life right now was the spot where all our dimensions meet?
The place where past and future memories mix to create something new.
A chosen, intentional, decisive moment.

So… do we have many lives?
Interesting.
Weird, even.
But mostly: logical, when you think about it.

Cause how else do you explain a 4-year-old painting like a Flemish master?
Or an 8-year-old playing Mozart with more grace than an adult sweating 20 years in conservatory?
How does a teen come up with equations that scare math teachers away?
No, seriously… explain that to me.

Either there’s cosmic cheating.
Or there’s memory.
Not brain memory.
Soul memory.

Those kids didn’t learn that in this life.
They didn’t have time. They just remembered.
That’s their secret.

They reconnected a talent, a knowledge, a vibe… they already carried inside.
An old inheritance, from somewhere else.
And guess what?

We all got that in us.

Yep, you too.
Even if your greatest artistic masterpiece is a well-aligned PowerPoint.
Even if your top musical performance is singing in the shower.

The soul records everything.
And it loses nothing.
It saves, archives, codes, keeps safe every lesson, every emotion, every spark of awakening.
Everything you ever learned—in this life or another—stays in you.
Just waiting… to be switched back on.
So if you sometimes feel that weird sense of “already knowing”… it’s no illusion.
It’s your soul memory knocking.
It’s saying: "Hey, we didn’t forget everything, you know. Wanna play again?"

I’m deeply convinced we reincarnate in soul groups.
Like a cosmic theater troupe, replaying unfinished scenes.
Souls bumping into each other again and again, until the scores are settled, the wounds healed, and the karmas—built together in joy or tragedy—are dissolved.

That’s why today you can end up with a dad, a sister, a son…
But in another life, maybe they were your lover, your sworn enemy, your devouring mother, or your favorite torturer.

Looking at my own family, it’s hard not to see a whole bunch of intergalactic lawsuits to wrap up.
My biological father?
Vanished like karmic dust, after leaving us with a bag full of pain—special “abandonment and abuse” edition.
He planted seeds of injustice… and he’ll harvest them, sooner or later.
The Universe forgets nothing.
It’s just patient.

And my mom?
My dear mother, as unstable as she was tyrannical…
She unknowingly nailed her role in the play: the trigger, the queen of psychological suffering.
But if I flip the stage, rise a little above this life, I can’t ignore the other side:
What if me—or my brothers and sisters—had tortured her in another life?
What if this life right here is her time, her payback round with us?

We’d all love to be the shining heroes of our story.
But sometimes, we’ve also been the other one… the oppressor, the manipulator, the coward.

Yeah, everything gets paid.
But in love, not revenge.
And I truly believe realizing that—this small shift of view into a wider dimension—can change everything.

It doesn’t erase the pain of the past, but it softens the edge.
And most of all, it opens a path… toward forgiveness, toward inner peace.

New age and spirituality

There was a time, between a joint and a Pink Floyd record, when people started dreaming of a better world.
It was the 60s, religions were losing their shine.
Too rigid, too patriarchal, too guilt-driven…
We needed to breathe.
Humanity was looking for an emergency exit.
And then came a rainbow-colored wave: the New Age.

Crystals everywhere, chakras discovered like secret organs, messages from galactic beings channeled every full-moon Tuesday.
It was beautiful, fresh, a bit trippy, sometimes ridiculously naive… but it was a sincere attempt to reconnect to something bigger.

It was the first breath of a new vibe.

Then years passed.
The stars didn’t always answer the calls.
Tarot cards went digital.
And some “enlightened masters” started flying private jets between two talks on detachment.

So the word “New Age” aged badly.
It slowly got swapped for “spirituality”—cleaner, fancier, more marketable.
Now everybody wants to be “spiritual.”
Even your neighbor selling dolphin NFTs while preaching vibrational frequency.
Even Instagram influencers dropping “gratitude” posts between detox product placements.

The problem?
The word “spirituality” turned into a kind of mental chewing gum.
It doesn’t mean much anymore.
It’s everywhere and nowhere.
A catch-all concept for those who believe in nothing but still hope for everything.

And now?

Maybe the future of spirituality won’t be about more crystals or workshops on quantum awakening.

Maybe it’ll look like something rawer, more real, more intimate.
A return to the basics.

To radical authenticity.

To this ability to look yourself in the eye, naked, vulnerable, with no mask or pose.
And to dare to say:
“I don’t know, but I’m here. I feel something calling me. I want to find myself again.”

That future might not even have a name.
It’ll just be a path.
Silent.
Simple.
But powerfully alive.

And maybe that’s the real sacred: becoming real again.
Not perfect, not enlightened, just deeply alive.

Authenticity, the new religion?

What if, deep down, we’re not here to “succeed in life” like they sold us?
Not here to climb the ladder, buy an SUV, keep a shiny LinkedIn, or own a Pinterest-ready house?

But simply… to become real.

Not “nice.”
Not “perfect.”
Not “enlightened” like the neighbor doing yoga between two marital fights.

Just.
Real.

Being real is no small job.
It means peeling off the masks, one by one.
The ones we wear to look good.
The ones we put on to survive, to please, to not disappoint.
It’s looking in the mirror and saying:
“This is who I am. These are my wounds. This is what I usually hide. And this is what I choose not to run from anymore.”

The tragedy?
We live in a showcase era.
Everyone’s on stage.
Everyone wants to look “fine,” “aligned,” “becoming the best version of themselves”… but the seams are splitting.
You can feel that most people are acting.
Even in self-development.
Especially there, actually.
Like humans are trying to photoshop themselves: shinier, cleaner, more marketable.

But the truth is, real life is raw.
It scratches, it stings, it messes your hair.
And it can’t stand fakeness anymore.
Especially now.
The world is literally burning—both literally and figuratively—and the only ones who’ll make it are those who dared to be real again.

Being real also means admitting you don’t always know.
That you doubt.
That you’re scared.
But you move anyway, heart trembling, but open.

It’s saying “I love you” even when it scares you.
It’s crying in front of a friend without shame.
It’s saying “no” when everything pushes you to say “yes.”
It’s daring to leave what doesn’t feed you anymore, without having a plan B.

So yeah, maybe the ultimate goal of this era isn’t to “rise” or “succeed” like we thought,
But finally to go down inside.
To land in your truth.
And to walk the world without costume.
And what if that was our revolution?

The hidden side of growth: loneliness

Every path of evolution has a hidden side you gotta face with honesty: loneliness.
It often shows up as a slow, almost natural isolation.

Cause when your eyes open, when you start seeing what most still refuse to see, nothing looks the same anymore.
Illusions drop.
The mechanics get visible.
And it’s impossible to close your eyes again.
Impossible to go back once the door of understanding is crossed.

On that path, your friends, your circle, sometimes even your partner, may not get you anymore.
But you’ll get them better: you’ll see them stuck in the Matrix, trapped in fear, habits, or inertia.
How can you keep hanging with people vibrating low, when you’re being pulled upward?

That’s part of the journey:

• You’ll feel sad for those stuck in false beliefs,
• You’ll hurt sometimes seeing them drowning in daily heaviness,
• And you’ll walk with that sense of being alone, while they keep slogging through the mud of the System.

Cause at the same time, you’ll start attracting new people, who vibe at your same frequency.
Real companions, who’ll share this new energy.
So yeah, be strong.
Yeah, accept this dose of loneliness.

And keep smiling: cause the path is beautiful, and it’s worth it.

I’ve been living this for quite a while now.
And honestly? I’m cool with it.
I’m good with myself, in this forced celibacy, this kind of improvised retreat from life.

I know it won’t last, that it’ll pass.
But right now, one thing’s solid as a safe: it’s getting harder and harder for me to talk with the “old crowd.”
I see their patterns in two seconds, feel their traumas in three sentences, and instantly know what they’d need to move on.
But… you can only help people who wanna be helped, right?
So yeah, I deal with my isolation.
Because whether I like it or not, I feel everything.
I walk into a crowded place, catch someone’s eyes, and bam: I see the shadows, the existential pain, the buried wounds, and especially why they’re there.
How can you tell someone their back pain comes from not screaming:
“I’m fed up, I can’t carry this anymore!”
… without sounding like a total freak?

I tried, yeah.
And of course, no mercy: people look at me weird.

So now, I stopped trying to save everyone.
I slowly get that it doesn’t work like that: if someone hasn’t decided to help themselves, it’s mission impossible.

So yeah, I live this social isolation.
But with time, I notice I’m starting to like it.
I’d rather stay with myself than be badly accompanied.

One thing’s for sure: I now refuse to be dragged down, drained, or left unfed energetically by others.

If I wanna keep my good energy, I’d rather be alone.
Simple.
Clear.

The power of meditation

At some point on the path, after you’ve tried it all—self-help books, forest retreats, heartbreaks that wake you up, continent changes—there’s one thing left to do:
Sit. And breathe.

It’s almost funny.
After so much noise, so many quests outside, you discover the real trip starts… on a cushion.
No visa, no shaman, not even incense needed (though let’s be real, it helps set the vibe sometimes).

Meditating is telling the universe:
“OK, I stop running. I’ll look at what’s inside me. Even what I avoid. Even what itches.”
That’s where authenticity starts.
Not in the pose, but in the presence.
Not in what you show, but in what you dare to feel.
You close your eyes, and everything comes up.
Crazy thoughts, buried pains, cravings, regrets, mini-neuroses you thought you’d handled…

And that’s perfect.

Cause meditating isn’t about reaching some eternal zen state.
It’s about learning to stay here, with yourself.
Even when it’s uncomfortable.
It’s stopping the lies.
Stopping the urge to be elsewhere.
Stopping the escape into doing, pretending, or the thousand distractions of modern life.

Meditation, when done right, isn’t relaxation.
It’s a mirror.
A raw mirror, sometimes harsh, but one that ends up polishing the soul.

And little by little…
Something loosens.
The mind, that hysterical conductor, lowers the volume.
The body finally breathes.
And the heart starts talking again.

And you start to feel who you really are.
Not what you think you are.
Not what others expect.
But you—in silence, in your center, in your naked truth.

And there, in that space, there’s nothing to prove. Nothing to control. Nothing to win.
Just be.
And that’s where real transformation starts.

Cause meditation isn’t about escaping the world.
It’s about reconnecting to it with integrity.

I’ve been meditating, more or less regularly, for almost ten years now.
And if there’s one rule I’d pass on, it’s this: every time you notice the train of your thoughts took you too far, just bring it back here and now. As many times as needed.

The first sessions often feel useless: fifteen minutes looping the same old stuff, spinning on the same stories.
But at some point, paying attention to those thoughts ends up solving them.
Like closing doors left open too long, like finally cleaning up cluttered drawers.

And then one day, something flips: the room of your mind feels clearer, more spacious, and you can finally rest there.
This clarity doesn’t come from forcing, but just from remembering, again and again, that space is created in attention to the present.
Each return to the now is like a new neural path, the brain slowly learning that calm is possible, that peace is available here, now.

That, for me, is the real magic of meditation: it’s not some mystical state for a chosen few, but a gentle habit that shifts how we live, a breath that slowly makes life clearer, lighter.

Giving power back to women

A woman is way more than a charming being.
She is key, bridge, mirror, and source.
She is that subtle energy that, quietly, invites man to go down into himself.

She doesn’t need to push.
She attracts, like light draws a firefly.

Through her presence, her mystery, her tenderness or her strength, she gives man the impulse to dive into his own inner lake.
That lake he sometimes runs from, too used to mental deserts and outside battles.

Because the woman, naturally, guides inward.
She shows him a new path: the path of feeling, deep emotions, intimate truth.
And the more man walks it, the more he reconnects with his buried desires, his old wounds, his forgotten shadows…
The stuff he put aside, often since childhood.

But careful: that descent isn’t a Sunday stroll.
This trip can feel like sinking into swamps of repressed emotions.
Where undigested nightmares lie, bottled-up anger, silent griefs.
It’s the mud of the soul, the infamous dark shadow, that part of us we’re ashamed to face.

And yet… it’s by going through that dark matter that freedom comes.
By daring to dive, man finds his own hidden treasures.
And he gets it:
What the woman shows him is not her.
It’s him, in the mirror.
His own inner world.
His own keys.

The woman isn’t here to fill, but to reveal.
She’s the guardian of life, of nature, of the sacred bond between beings.
She doesn’t seek to possess, but to make grow.
She doesn’t conquer lands, she fertilizes inner grounds.

By nature, she’s more in the heart than in the head.
She feels. She listens. She builds bridges where man sometimes builds walls.
She gives life.

And often, she wakes life in man too.

It’s time to give her back this sacred role.
Not by locking her on a pedestal, nor by flipping the roles,
but by recognizing her power to heal, inspire, and love.

Giving power back to women is also giving power back to the heart.
And inviting men to step down from their head, to find, through them, the truth of their own being.

Let me tell you something: I’m convinced the future belongs to women.
Not in the sense that they’ll dominate us (though… 😏), but because they’ve got that extra spark we’ve trampled on for way too long:
the heart, intuition, the vision of life itself.

Us men, we’re good at carrying heavy stuff, fixing broken things, and showing off at the barbecue, and hey, that’s not bad!
But where they shine is in deep connection, harmony, the life drive.

I honestly believe our job as men isn’t to lead, but to support.
To be present with our strong arms and vulnerable heart, to offer a safe, loyal, loving frame, and say: “Go ahead, my love, spread your magic. You’ve got the wheel. I’m here.”

Because when a woman feels emotionally safe,
she releases an energy that’s… cosmic!
She radiates, she inspires, she heals, she creates, she throws stardust into our lives.
And along the way, she helps us evolve, become better men.

Look at the last 5,000 years of men in charge:
wars, invasions, massacres, domination, extraction, destruction,
all for land, minerals, or ego.

In short, a huge mess.
Thanks guys.

Maybe it’s time to try something else, no?
To put women back in the center, not on a throne,
but to hear what they’ve got to say, what they feel, what they know.

And what if it was their turn to guide… and ours to support?
Honestly, I’m all in.

I totally agree with you, dad!
And maybe that’s why my standards for men are so high…
But I also wanna give men their fair value back, cause to me they’re our equals.
Different, yes, but equal.

To me, man is a builder, a bringer of direction, an explorer. He carries inside him a power of action that, when aligned, lets him create in the material world whatever he chooses with his whole being.
And I deeply admire that capacity: their resilience, their focus, their passion, their drive to go beyond.
These are qualities that, in my life, inspire me every day.

I believe the real revolution won’t come from one gender dominating the other, but from the conscious union of both energies, in us and between us. Cause we all have a feminine and a masculine side. The key is learning to embody them both, without rejecting either.

The woman, by essence, creates vision, just like she gives life.
She’s the lighthouse that lights the destination, the voice of intuition and wisdom that points the way.

Man, for his part, finds the means to make that vision real.
He unfolds his potential to turn the idea into reality, he explores, he builds, he lays the path.
That’s how we can coexist in our strengths, putting the best of our energies in service of the world.
But for that, adjustments are needed on both sides:

– We, women, must cultivate our wisdom and intuition, but also develop some masculine traits—clarity, direction, structure—so we can express our visions in a concrete, audible way.

– Men, they need to learn to open up inward, to cultivate self-giving, to drop their pride so they can hear and honor the voice of the feminine—inside themselves, and in the woman they meet.

I believe the true power of tomorrow will be in that sacred dance: a woman daring to light the way, and a man daring to put all his strength into walking it.
Not in hierarchy, but in complementarity.
Cause in the end, giving power back to women doesn’t mean taking it from men.
It’s inviting both to rise back into their greatness, together.