Spiritually Transformed | A Spiritual Path to Find Real Freedom | Being Your Authentic Self

 A long time ago there was a little girl, her parents called her Giolidama because they loved her so much.  Her father was a sailor, he loved the sea, the wind, the turbulent skies and solitude. He always said that only in solitude greatest accomplishment can happen (and I think he did not take it from Picasso who somehow seemed to have said: "without great solitude, not serious work is possible", but it was his own thought) ; her mother was a idealist, she loved perfection and had a inner belief (obviously not based on facts, because we all know perfection is just an idealisation sometimes based on fear and shame) that she could attain it and, if she could, everyone else could to; she was beautiful because the man loved beauty and in her he always saw the hand of God crafting with love. The mother loved the man, his vehemence, his directness and the immense tenderness he showed her because the love he felt for her was infinite, and unconditional, as only real love can be. G

There was a time when I thought I had found the love of my life. It was a wonderful time. It was the most beautiful time of my life. The love time. The joy time. The happy time. The miracles time. The cuddles time. It was the TIME.  There was a time when I had found the love of my life. The Love is still there, all the rest is gone. So, now, there is this lonely Love, sitting alone and hoping to be able to give, to caress, to give tenderness and attention and love. What else a little lonely Love, as big as the universe, can do?   It is a big love this lonely little love, it is as big as the universe but its breathing is shallow because it tries not to feel the loss of the "love giving crap" that it is so much longing for. It is also longing for a person, a face, their skin and their happiness, it is longing to make them happy and more happy and more happy. It is a stupid sad little Love that has strange ideas and believes in miracles. It is a little stupid Love that is not wa

We were two, but I was the only one hoping for a miracle or praying for one.  Me and you, together, we could not leave our love suspended any longer, it was like a ghost, our love, sitting in our home where I now stay alone, clinging to it like I do, like it is my only left security, like I am glued to it with a big quantity of newly fresh 'No Nails', to the walls, and the doors and the hallways, and the grey view from my back window. Here where I see you and me and us and our gestures, here where I've heard the silence of our unspoken words; here in the place where I have learned what to love means, the place where, over and over again, I hoped for a miracle; where sometimes I felt so close to it, like it was real, the miracle, but it was a hall of mirrors, and at the end of the tunnel the lights were gone. Here the place from where I am not wanting to go away from until the date when the keys will be handed to the Estate Agent, until the day my house new owners will take

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Today is the day, the day I am here, alive; today is the best day of my life. Today is the best day of my life because I am at the peak, at the peak of awareness, at the peak of loving and being loved, at the peak of my time, in this minute, in this moment I am having the best time of my life: I have not future and the past is just a construction to which I look with benevolent eyes as we all do; oh God thanks for your  immense kindness to have made us this way. My friends, my fellows, those who judge me and those who ignore me, you are all there, watching your life passing, watching, a world that perish, watching, you time becoming smaller and experiencing feelings and emotions, hopes, desires, and wishes and the touch of a loved one or the smile of a kid, and the wind in your ears and the rain on your head and a new day, and new night and a moon which from the distance seems somehow like velvet: is it telling you the stories you want to hear tonight?  You my friends, my fellows, you