A Path Called Me

Tag: inner knowing

  • A Treasured Guest

    Humility visited me today, and I was surprised—because I thought it had been here all along… But when it sat down with me in the living room, I suddenly felt peace. I felt like myself, like never before.

    Then I heard: “It’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you. I saw how you struggled—thinking you knew better, walking in circles, feeling frustrated, making all those silly decisions, and asking God why He wasn’t helping you. But he was here all along, just observing you with love and care, protecting you the entire time.

    You knew he was there. You knew he was protecting you. He heard you asking for protection, even as you wandered into all those places, thinking you knew better. But he was certain you would find your way back here.

    You had to let go of the frustration and the demands, because God don’t take orders—it respond to your being. And now this moment has come. That’s why I came to visit you today—because somewhere along the way, you left me behind, and I kept waiting until you were ready to let me back in.

    Without me, everything you achieve and do means a little less. Life tastes better when we walk side by side, don’t you think?

    It’s wonderful to see who you’ve become through all the hardship. It’s so beautiful to see how you now respond to everything—both good and bad.”

    And then: “Ask yourself—how are you now? 

    May I tell you what I see? You feel better without the need for revenge or to hurt those who hurt you. You feel peace and freedom. You feel space around you and curiosity for what is to come.

    Remember, expressing how you feel is okay. But saying or doing things just to hurt someone will never give you what you truly seek and need. We can only  know ourselves by being around others. We learn and grow through our experiences, situations, and relationships

    I am proud of you, and I know you are here to stay. And so am  I.”

  • Positive vs. Negative

    I read everywhere lately about being positive and keeping only high vibes. And my question is: what about the other side of being human?

    What about low vibes and negative emotions?

    What are we supposed to do with them? Pretend they don’t exist? Suppress them at all costs?

    Gosh, it seems like no matter what is going on in the world or in our lives, we’re expected to choose one or the other. But the reality is that we are made of both light and darkness. Joy and pain. Love and anger.

    And I am all about love, happiness, and kindness. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get angry or sad.

    I have a teenager at home.

    So I would dare all the “positive vibes only” people to spend a day with her. After asking her twenty times to do one thing, let’s see how positive you still are.

    And if someone can stay positive through all of that, then either they truly don’t care, or they’re pushing their anger deep inside. Nobody is patient enough not to lose it at some point.

    I spent years learning how to be calm and peaceful because I was angry for so long that I became tired of it. It was affecting me and the people around me.

    The peace and calmness I have today are some of my greatest victories.

    Not losing myself when someone attacks me feels like a huge win.

    But there are still moments when something really pisses me off, and I need to feel that I have the right to express it. Not in a way that hurts myself or anyone else, but it has to come out. It has to be acknowledged.

    A dear friend of mine lost her husband unexpectedly a few months ago.

    She is angry.
    She is sad.
    She is broken.
    She is disappointed with life.

    And yet people keep telling her to stay positive and calm, that she has to live for her daughter, and that her whole life is still ahead of her.

    Seriously? That’s the advice?

    Yes, all of that may be true.

    But let her say that right now, for her, there is no life.

    Let her say that her life ended with his death.

    At least for now.

    She will find her way back eventually. But first, she needs time to grieve. She needs time to feel everything she feels.

    Life is not always rainbows and sunshine.

    Sometimes we have the right to be angry.

    We have the right to be disappointed.

    We have the right to listen to loud music, shut the world out for a while, and not care what anyone thinks.

    We have the right to turn inward and sit with whatever is there.

    Being human means feeling all of it.

    Not just the emotions that make other people comfortable.

    I am a kind person.

    But I can also be bitchy.

    And honestly, that just makes me authentic.

    Sometimes I feel like we are judged for not behaving the way we’re expected to.

    Living true to ourselves isn’t about feeling positive all the time. It’s about allowing ourselves to be fully human.

  • …

    I was driving back home and was amazed by how beautiful the world is at night. All the lights, and only a few people around. The quietness of the night moved me deeply. And just like that, without logically understanding what I was doing, I turned right in the direction of a very familiar place to me. I’ve been there hundreds of times. I knew the way by heart. I just wanted to see if you were doing okay.

    So with each passing house, I was simply observing myself. And there was a wonderful peace. Just peace. And knowing that my only intention was to check if you were okay. I was almost there. I saw the light, still from a distance. Seeing that light felt like seeing you. I was relieved it was still there. And I felt happy, with no actual reason—simply by seeing the light in your windows.

    When I got there, I parked my car and just looked. Without thinking. Just present in the moment. And, the same as when I was coming there, I felt that I could leave now. I knew in my heart that everything was okay. I didn’t even have to see you—I just knew that you are ok. 

    And I thought: God, I trust you. If there is something more for me, for us, you are going to cross our paths. What is meant for us will find us.

    And I realized at that moment that this is pure love flowing through me—free of expectations, free of wanting and needing. Just knowing. Just the presence of love.

  • Who am I?

    I asked that question many times. I listened to others, observed them, and tried to be like them. I heard the same advice over and over: Be yourself. But I didn’t know who that person was. So instead of becoming myself, I became even less myself.

    I was told that sitting in a quiet place, closing my eyes, and listening would allow my soul to speak—to show me who I really am. So I tried. At first, I heard voices that were not mine. They were the voices of other people. I thought that was me, and I got even more lost. I kept thinking, trying to figure it out, and I felt worse. I couldn’t hear myself. My mind was too busy, too overwhelmed. All I was doing was thinking—and that was not the way to hear myself.

    So I gave up.

    And then a miracle happened.

    I heard my soul speak to me.

    Slowly, I dug myself out from the rubble of other people’s opinions, from the programs I had learned to live by, from old fears, from choosing what I liked, and what I thought I liked while trying to please others.

    They say that when we turn forty, we go through a life crisis. For me, it wasn’t a crisis. It was a reminder of who I truly am.

    Now I am not pretending to be who I am. I simply am myself.

    Instead of spending my time on social media or television, I spend more time with myself—doing what I love and discovering what else I want and can do with my life. I am no longer worried about what people may say, whether they like me, or whether they stay in my life. For the first time, I am living my life for myself. And whoever joins me will stay because of my true self.

    I feel ease and joy most of the time. I like myself. I appreciate myself deeply.

    For me, this is great freedom.

    I sit in meditation every day to remember who I am, because returning to myself feels like home.

  • Motherhood, for G.

    Before you came into my life, I believed my world was already whole. I didn’t even know how much I needed you for my soul’s evolution. I thought I was happy, living a good and comfortable life.

    Before I had you, I believed I didn’t want or need you. But when the miracle happened—when I discovered I was pregnant—I didn’t know what to feel. I was afraid, surprised, and certain this wasn’t part of the plan. But the moment I heard your heartbeat, I knew something magical was happening.

    As you were growing in my belly (and I was growing too 😊), I was filled with joy and happiness. Then, after 20 hours of labor, I saw you for the first time. At first, I saw you not with my eyes, but with my heart—with my soul. I couldn’t believe that you came from my body. My mind couldn’t comprehend it. I understood the biology and the science, but witnessing the birth of new life felt like pure magic.

    I think that the miracle of carrying a baby beneath your heart—and then holding that little human in your arms—is no longer treated as the miracle it truly is. But for me, it was. It was sacred. It was magic. And I knew you were a gift—one I never asked for, but one that changed my life, my perceptions, and who I am as a person.

    In those first moments, I didn’t fully understand this miracle of life. Then I looked at you again—this time with my mind—and I thought, She doesn’t look like me or her dad at all—did they give me the wrong baby? But of course, that wasn’t so. We were both exhausted, and you had just entered the world—it was perfectly normal.

    I remembered that when I first found out I was pregnant, I asked God only for you to be healthy, and maybe to have my lips and your dad’s eyes. When I saw you for the first time, you had neither. But within a few days, I noticed you had my lips. And for your dad’s eyes, I waited a little longer—but yes, you have them too.

    Becoming a mother changed everything. I used to think that when we plan to have babies, we can somehow prepare ourselves for motherhood. But it doesn’t work that way. You can’t truly prepare—you learn day by day what it means to be a mother. And just when I think I’ve figured it out, something new appears to teach me again.

    That’s not just motherhood—that’s life.

    Even though being a parent isn’t easy, the love for a child never changes. It’s unconditional. Every day, I do my best to be a good mother and a good example for you. Some days go well, some days not so much. But I do my best—because that’s what love does.

  • Words

    A little while ago, I thought I had so much to say, but no one to listen. So, I found another way to let it all out and express my thoughts. I started journaling, and after that, I began to write a blog. And then, words started to flow.

    It’s such a powerful thing — to express yourself through words. Words are very powerful. Not only the ones we speak, but also the ones we think and the ones we write. They help us express our feelings, name our experiences, and connect with others.

    But words can also hurt and break. Too often, we use them to make someone smaller, to punish, or to wound. Yet, with words, we can also express love. We can admire, comfort, and tell beautiful stories.

    We live in a world that is constantly changing. That can feel scary — not knowing what will happen to us or to the people we love. But I also see beautiful change happening. I see people who no longer accept only bad news and fearful messages from the media. I see awakened souls who speak about love, who use their words to show beauty and peace. Even when they disagree or don’t like someone, they choose kind words.

    I hear beautiful words everywhere. I read words filled with love, peace, appreciation, and joy — and because of that, I feel like I’m living in a wonderful world.

    Words flow constantly in our minds — they rest only when we sleep. So often, we call ourselves or others names like “stupid,” “lazy,” or “jealous.” But wouldn’t it be better to say beautiful things instead? Start with yourself: call yourself smart, beautiful, kind, sexy — whatever feels good. Even if you don’t believe it at first, if you keep doing it every day, it will become natural.

    Then, start saying nice things to others too. It costs nothing to compliment someone, and for them, it might be something they remember for the rest of their life. Isn’t that wonderful?

    I choose to live in a world filled with beautiful words. And because of that, I see beauty everywhere — exactly as it is. Life is wonderful. The world is beautiful. You just have to want to see it that way.

    Love brings joy, while fear brings pain..
    So be love. Show love. Express love. Use loving words when you speak. And when you feel something different — anger, fear, frustration — write it down on paper or in your phone, let it stay there, release it — punch a pillow, throw rocks into the river.

    But when you speak — spread love. Use your words with kindness.
    Because words are powerful, and that means we are powerful.

    Let’s use our power to spread love all around.

  • Solitude

    It’s not easy to understand solitude and silence when life is full of people, responsibilities, and noise. We work, we care for loved ones, we stay busy with things we think we love. And yet—whether we realize it or not—we long for quiet. Our soul longs for it. The question is: do we listen?

    I thought I was listening. But it turned out, not completely. It wasn’t until I was really alone that I understood what solitude felt like. I felt so lonely, so left out. I kept wondering: Why is this happening? Why is nobody here when I need a conversation, or simply a meal together? God, it was hard.The more I resisted that emptiness, the sadder I became.

    One day, in a moment of surrender, I asked myself: It’s just me, myself, and I—so what are you going to do about it?

    Slowly, things shifted. I started to enjoy walking alone in the park, savoring every step. I went to the beach and felt it in every sense—the sound of waves, the salt in the air, the peace of simply being there. That quiet became something I couldn’t explain in words. And in that space, my soul began to speak louder. Or maybe I simply began listening more closely. Either way—I heard.

    Memories and passions resurfaced. Promises I had once made to myself. Dreams I had quietly tucked away under the weight of expectations. All of it waiting—just waiting—for me to notice again. We spend so much of life becoming who we think we should be, while the parts of us that bring real joy gather dust. They never disappear. They wait patiently for our attention, because they know the joy they’ll bring when we finally return to them.

    Life moves at such a pace that we often lose sight of ourselves. Even with countless tools and machines meant to save us time, our lists only grow longer.

    But when a moment of silence comes, don’t be upset by it. Don’t rush to fill it. Instead, turn off the noise—your phone, the television, the constant distractions. Go within. That’s where the treasures are—waiting to be discovered again.

    What may at first feel like loneliness is not isolation. It is an invitation. An opening. It comes for a reason. Because you are worthy of living with ease, joy, and alignment. When you follow that inner voice, life unfolds more beautifully than you ever imagined.

    Yes, sometimes life feels like punishment. But it never truly is. Every experience can be turned into something meaningful—if you’re willing. So be brave. Step back if you need to. Even hide for a while. Because in that quiet, you’ll be surprised at what begins to reveal itself.

  • A Love Letter

    Dear Love,

    Where are you?

    I used to wonder that so often.
    Are you in my mother’s warm embrace?
    In the neighbor’s kind “Good morning”?
    Are you hidden in the soft light of a new day, or in the joyful smile of my daughter?


    Does the green grass carry you?

    Or perhaps you’re in the face of a stranger I passed in the park? 

    I searched for you everywhere.
    So many of us do—looking for love in people, in places, in fleeting moments.

    For me, life has always been about you.
    Because life without love? It felt like it lacked meaning.

    I searched for you in people first.
    And I did find you—within my family, my friends, and in the most beautiful form of all: the love I feel for my daughter.

    Then, I found you in places.
    In the lake where I grew up.
    In the city where I studied.
    In the place I now call home.

    And then, I began to find you in nature.

    In the rhythm of ocean waves.

    In the majesty of the mountains.

    In poppy-filled meadows.

    In the pear tree in my grandparents’ yard.

    I discovered you in the little things, too:
    In the taste of my mom’s brownies.

    In a squirrel’s darting across the park.

    And in countless other tiny, beautiful moments.

    But even though I saw you everywhere, something still felt incomplete.
    There was always a small ache. A sense that something essential was missing.

    Until one day, I looked into the mirror—into my own eyes—and finally saw what I’d been overlooking all along.

    You were there.
    You had been waiting.

    I had never thought to look for love within myself.
    Never paused to offer love to myself.

    And that changed everything.
    Because the most valuable love, the most healing, the most lasting—was the one I gave to me.

    So now I know:
    You are not just out there, scattered in the world.
    You are also right here, inside me.
    Always have been.
    Always will be.

    With all my heart,
    Me

  • Pain

    Pain accompanies our life from day one. We are born and we cry—I would call that emotional pain, confusion pain. We don’t know what’s going on. It seems like everyone is afraid to feel pain. Physical or emotional.

    We avoid emotional pain and end up hurting ourselves physically so that our attention shifts. Because it’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. So we drink too much, we eat too much, we take drugs, we blame others for our misery. We punch things until there’s blood on our fists. We exercise until our body gives out. We work too much, we study too much.

    Honestly, I could go on and on with ways people hurt themselves. By doing this, we are trying to escape. We’re scared to face what really hurts. And there’s a lot to face, if I’m being honest. Not everyone will do that— not in their entire life.

    Why? Because we would have to confront the truth. The truth about what happened—the things we’d rather forget. The truth about what we did. Our mistakes. The people we hurt. The lies we told. The truths we’re ashamed to admit.

    That’s a lot of responsibility. And who wants that? Who consciously chooses pain in a world where pleasure and happiness are advertised everywhere you look?

    It’s easier to have fun. It’s easier to keep ourselves busy. It’s easier to talk about others. It’s easier to see everything else—just not the pain inside.

    Some people do this their whole life. Some find the courage to look inside. And yes, it hurts. It hurts so much I can’t even describe it. A drilling tooth or broken bone is nothing compared to this pain.

    But when you start healing small pieces of your soul—of your being—it slowly dissolves. It gets better.

    I’ve faced a lot of my pain. Crawling in it. Crying for hours. Begging, “When will this end?” And I still experience it from time to time, because we can’t heal all at once. Some wounds are deeper, and we have to be ready to feel them.

    The good part? God will never give us more than we can handle. So when something comes up and the pain rises again, deep down I know—it’s time.

    That doesn’t mean I’m not angry. I am. And I ask God: Why? Every time I go through it, I have a conversation with God. I say everything—how angry I am, how unfair life feels, how He can allow this, how I’m supposed to live with all these truths I now see. I speak without a filter.

    And then, I say thank you. Because I know this pain gives me freedom. It gives me a beautiful understanding of my being, of my life. And then—I see more. I feel more.

    Because when pain leaves, it makes space for love, joy, happiness—and most importantly—gratitude.
    Gratitude that I’m here. That I can experience life on this planet. That God made me so perfectly imperfect.

    We’re taught to search for the good, for happy moments. But life is not only about joy. It’s both.
    Good and bad.
    Happy and sad.
    Success and failure.

    And in both, we find depth. We find meaning. We find ourselves.

  • Emotions

    Emotions are our internal compass. They let us know that something important is happening within us—a sign that deserves attention. We feel anger when things don’t go as planned. We feel joy when we’re with someone we love. These feelings are part of what makes us human.

    When I was a child, I often heard, “Stop crying,” when I was sad, or “Don’t be so angry,” when I was upset. Even when I was laughing with joy, I was told to quiet down. Over time, I learned not to feel—or at least, not to show it. I buried my emotions, hiding parts of myself to avoid judgment.

    Later in life, my relationships reflected those early lessons. I found myself in situations where I was told that my feelings were “too much” or “not real.” I was manipulated into believing my emotions were wrong, that my instincts couldn’t be trusted. I began judging myself more harshly than anyone else ever could. I thought I was a failure, that I didn’t know how to live. So, I became a perfectionist—on the outside, strong and confident; on the inside, lost and afraid.

    I didn’t trust myself, because I had been taught not to. I let others tell me who I should be—how to raise my child, what career to pursue, even what to eat. Looking back, it feels like I was living someone else’s life. And in truth, I was.

    But things began to change when I started to reconnect with my emotions—all of them. I began to allow myself to feel anger, frustration, sadness, joy, and happiness. Even when a voice inside tried to shut it down—“Why are you happy when your life is such a mess?”—I kept going.

    Now, I feel everything. Sometimes I understand why, and sometimes I don’t. And honestly, I’ve made peace with not always knowing. The meaning comes eventually. I’ve learned to let my emotions exist without judgment, and I’m learning how to manage them—especially when they show up at unexpected times.

    From everything I’ve had to learn to make my life better, this has been the hardest. But also the most powerful. It’s a lifelong practice—just like taking care of my body with workouts. Some days are strong, some are slow, but all of them are worth the effort. Especially when it comes to things—and people—we care about.

    My wish for myself is to become a master of emotional resilience. But even if I don’t reach that goal completely, I will still celebrate how far I’ve come. Because this work—this healing—is already changing my life.