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Happy Valentine's day

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
February 14. The world outside is submerged in a strange, almost obsessive intent for festivity, wrapped in the red silk of expectations and the noisy glitter of promises that often dissolve before they are even fully spoken. But here, in this enclosed space of my internal dialogue, silence has a different taste—it is thick, almost palpable, like a prayer that has not yet found its words but has already filled my lungs. I watch how the light of the winter sun refracts through the glass, leaving long, pale traces upon the floor, and I think of Love—not as an event, not as a date on the calendar, but as an ontological necessity , as the only breath that justifies our presence in this world of shadows and reflections. The Feast of Love often finds us unprepared because we, in our human fragility, are accustomed to seeking it outside ourselves—in the gaze of the other, in the warmth of a hand, in the confirmation of our own significance through the presence of someone else. Psychoanalytic...
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Spiritual surgery

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  The ink of my thoughts today is thick, heavy, as if saturated with the very matter of the earth that I am trying to transmute into spirit. I sit in the silence and listen to time dripping—steady, relentless—while a painful anatomy of existence unfolds before my eyes. There are moments when the metaphor of the spiritual oasis is no longer enough to withstand the pressure of external degradation. We often deceive ourselves into thinking that our inner light, this fragile flame of personal goodness, is sufficient to illuminate even the densest darkness outside. But today, in this space between the breath and the prayer, I realize a harsh truth: when necrotic cells appear in the fabric of reality, humility ceases to be a virtue and becomes complicity. Surgery is not an act of hatred; it is an act of supreme care for the whole. There is a specific, conscious insolence , a malice that walks unhindered through the temples of our daily lives, and it cannot be cured by passive waiting. F...
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1 february

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  February 1, afternoon. The light in the room has already taken on that deep, amber hue that heralds the end of the day, and in this lull, I feel my gaze turning definitively inward—toward the darkest and most secluded corners of my own being. When a person accepts voluntary or forced deprivation for the sake of their "bliss," they inevitably face their shadows—those parts of themselves long masked by the noise of success, the glitter of possessions, or the illusion of social significance. Poverty is a silence in which our shadows begin to speak loudly, and in this dialogue, a new, previously unknown relationship with oneself is born—a relationship of ruthless honesty and, simultaneously, infinite mercy. From a psychoanalytic perspective, material status often serves as a secondary skin, protecting our fragile ego from meeting the "inner beggar"—that archetypal image of our inadequacy, of our primal deficiency. When we shed this skin, we find ourselves face to face...
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Being-Love

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  February 1, a little later. The sun has already touched the edge of the table, and in this growing light, my thoughts—previously cocooned within my own soul—begin to expand outward, toward the Other. I asked myself: how does this starved freedom, this quiet architecture of deprivation, change the way we touch the people around us? If money and material security are often the armor with which we face the world, then their absence leaves us stripped bare—not only before God, but before our neighbor. A true encounter between two human beings is possible only when we stop seeing each other as objects of use or instruments of security. From a psychoanalytic perspective, most of our relationships are woven from projections and transfers—we rarely love the person across from us; more often, we love the function they fulfill in our internal economic model. We love their ability to give us confidence, their status, their role as the "good parent" or the "generous donor." B...
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Freedom Beyond Money - A Psychoanalytic Reflection

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  The hour when shadows lose their sharpness and turn into soft, bleeding stains upon the old parquet floor is the time when words begin to carry a different weight. I sit in the twilight of the room, which feels wider than it actually is—perhaps because there is too much space in it for the things that never happened—and in my mind echo the words someone tossed out today like an old, worn-out coin: "Money may be gone, but at least we are free." This phrase, often used as a shield against poverty or a bitter consolation for missed opportunities, suddenly struck me not as an excuse, but as a profound, almost mystical diagnosis of the human condition. As I watched the dust motes dancing in the final beam of light, I asked myself what this "lack" we call pennilessness actually means, and how it transforms into the "presence" we call freedom. From a psychoanalytic perspective , money is the most reliable object of our projection; it is the symbolic equivalent...
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The evolution of consciousness through suffering

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
The silence in this room is no longer empty; it has acquired density, weight, and the scent of purification. I lie motionless and watch the light, refracted through the glass, slowly crawl along the wall—the only clock that matters in this liminal state of existence. The illness, which at first burst in like a brutal intruder, like a thief stealing my everyday rhythm and my sense of inviolability, has gradually begun to reveal its true nature. It is not merely a biological breakdown or a glitch in the code of my body; it is a metaphysical pause in which the soul is finally given the chance to heal its body. In this enforced stillness, the highest form of alchemy begins—the evolution of consciousness through suffering, a slow, painful, yet inevitable transition from the illusion of control to the grace of humility. When the body refuses to serve, when it becomes a heavy, disobedient vessel, consciousness undergoes a strange kind of descent—a journey into the depths of our own somatic h...
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Архитектура на разпознаването - Когато душата си спомни бъдещето

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
Понякога светът спира. Не в гръм и трясък, а в една тънка, почти невидима пукнатина на настоящето, през която нахлува вечността. Стоиш в претъпкана стая или вървиш по мократа улица, и изведнъж един поглед, една случайна сянка върху лицето на непознат, преобръща вътрешния ти пейзаж. Това не е просто влюбване. Не е и просто химия. Това е нещо по-дълбоко, по-древно и същевременно по-плашещо — усещането, че в този миг не срещаш някого за първи път, а се завръщаш към нещо, което винаги си знаел. Защо някои хора се чувстват като „у дома“, още преди да сме научили имената им? Дали това е ехо от минал живот, или е просто сложен психологически механизъм на проектиране? В страниците на моя вътрешен дневник днес разгръщам темата за онази тиха метафизика, която наричаме любов от пръв поглед, и се опитвам да разчета нейните скрити кодове през призмата на духа и психоанализата. Припознаването като завръщане към изгубения обект В психоаналитичната традиция няма нищо случайно в това, което наричаме „...
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The charlatan - the archetype of the Shadow

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
January 29th. The morning is grey, the color of an unuttered sorrow, and the light enters the room timidly, as if afraid to disturb the silence of my shipwreck. Here, in this empty space between a "before" and an uncertain "now," I attempt to arrange the debris of myself. When a person is deceived, they do not merely lose means; they lose the very architecture of their trust. The world, until then predictable and welcoming, suddenly shatters into jagged pieces that cut deep into the softest parts of the soul. The money... it was never just numbers. It was preserved time. It was hours of fatigue, of absence from my own life, of small deprivations that accumulated like grains of sand in the hourglass of my security. Every coin was a fragment of my effort, of my sleep, of my hope for a future where I would not be vulnerable. And when someone takes them with the ease of a charlatan, they do not steal currency—they steal a piece of my past and a vast portion of my peace...
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The Slow Suicide of a Small Lie - 5 Truths About the Self-Destructive Power of Deception

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  Introduction: The Universal Weight of a Lie The night has stood motionless before my window, like a mute deity waiting to hear the truth. Today I saw a face that was crumbling under the weight of its own fabrications, and my heart constricted in that silent spasm only compassion knows. I watched words slip from lips like evasive fish, saw eyes search for an anchor in empty space, and I had to ask: Why do you lie? Why do you choose to transform your one life into a labyrinth where you are both the prisoner and the jailer? It hurts me to see these lies, because the world becomes a colder place with each untruth. While deception is often framed as a shield—a mechanism for self-preservation—a deeper examination reveals it to be the opposite. It is not a tool for survival but a slow, agonizing descent into alienation and loneliness. Here are five truths about the nature of deception and the quiet courage required to return to solid ground. Takeaway 1: Lying Isn't Self-Preservation; It...
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Our Society is a Sinking Ship. Here Are 5 Truths We Ignore at Our Peril

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  Introduction: The Tilting Ship There is a feeling that permeates our modern world—a quiet but persistent sense of unease, as if the ground beneath our feet is no longer stable. Sometimes, I think of our society as a massive ship, built with many levels and decks. Each floor has its own light, its own shadows, and its own illusions of security. We live out our lives on these separate decks, often oblivious to the realities of the others. But during a collective crisis, something strange begins to happen. A quiet, almost imperceptible shift in weight occurs. The Titanic of our shared destiny begins to tilt, and the water always rushes into the lowest decks first—where the people are most vulnerable, closest to the cold bottom, on the front lines of the disaster. This powerful analogy reveals several truths that, once seen, are impossible to ignore. It suggests the true nature of our crisis isn't what it seems. Let's explore them together. 1. Social Injustice Isn't Just Unfa...
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The Trap of Light - Why Your Heart Sees "Signs" That Aren't There

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
Falling in love is rarely a simple spark of sympathy or a physical response. For some, it is a blinding intoxication—an "Explosion of Light" that does not merely warm the heart but obscures the world. In this state, you are not just falling for a person; you are falling for a cosmic narrative. You are seduced by a series of startling coincidences that seem to pulse with the rhythm of destiny. This is the Trap of Light: a psychological and spiritual hall of mirrors where your deepest internal longings are reflected back by the universe, creating the terrifying, beautiful illusion that God Himself is speaking your lover’s name. The central conflict is a jagged one. It is the widening chasm between an internal "truth" that feels absolute and a cold, external reality that remains indifferent. It is the agony of holding a divine prophecy in a world that only offers facts. 1. The Explosion of Synchronicity When this specific brand of infatuation takes hold, reality ceases...
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5 Surprising Ways Success Can Corrupt the Soul

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
  Introduction: The Dream and Its Dangerous Aftermath I remember a man I knew in the days of his deepest scarcity. Back then, his eyes were like clear wells, reflecting the sky. He was transparent, vulnerable, and painfully real. His poverty held a strange, almost sacred discipline; it pressed him to the earth, but that pressure forced him to seek support in the invisible, in shared bread and sincere prayer. Then, success arrived. An invisible curtain seemed to fall between him and the world, and the clarity in his eyes grew opaque. His story brings to mind a question that haunts the journey from hardship to comfort: When exactly do we get lost? At what point does the sound of coins in our pocket begin to drown out the voice of our better nature, the one that guided us through leaner times? The achievement of material success can, paradoxically, trigger a profound spiritual loss. It's a transformation that happens so subtly we don't notice it until it's too late. The very ...
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5 Paradoxes of the Soul - How Forgetting, Suffering, and Falling Apart Can Make You Whole

By Anelly Aya Anelly Aya
There are moments when we feel it—a sense of being a shard, a fragment of something larger we can’t quite recall. It’s a quiet trembling on the edge of awareness, a longing for a wholeness we feel we’ve lost. This deep, persistent feeling is what one text calls "the ache of remembrance"—the soul’s effort to return to what it once was before it was named, before it was broken into the pieces we now call "I." This ache is the central mystery explored in a profound and poetic collection of writings, The Memory of God , a text that blends the deep currents of mysticism with the intricate language of psychology. It doesn't offer easy answers or simple comforts. Instead, it presents a series of startling paradoxes that challenge our most fundamental assumptions about life, consciousness, and the divine. This post will explore five of the most surprising and counter-intuitive takeaways from this text. These ideas reframe our understanding of life's biggest challeng...
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