How to love maturely without falling back into the mystical trap of illusion
Sometimes the night greets me with a strange sensation — not so much pain as a question , one that slips into the periphery of my thoughts like a light unsure of whether it wishes to remain. After every disappointment there arrives this moment: the moment when you no longer ask “Why did it happen?” but begin to listen to a quieter, almost prayerful inner register: “How can it not happen again?” Not as self-blame. Not as fear of falling once more. But as the desire to learn to love without breaking apart, without turning love into a field where your own shadows outweigh the light. I write these lines as if in a diary, though I’m not entirely sure whether I’m speaking to myself, to time, or to that invisible presence I sometimes call soul , sometimes God , and sometimes simply my own inner ground . Here I want to gather not rules, but orientations; not boundaries, but supports; not prohibitions, but quiet, almost invisible paths toward maturity. Paths that do not reject the myst...
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