Every drama has its own “pond”

Sometimes I think that every drama has its own “pond” — that quiet, murky water in which the unconscious reflects itself. Nothing happens by accident. Every situation is an invitation to awareness — not to punish us, but to illuminate something we have forgotten to see. Even illness, even conflict, even a simple misunderstanding between people — all of them are mirrors in which the soul tries to remember where it has distorted its own image.

How often we fail to truly hear, because we still listen through the sediments of the past. The illness may leave the body, but thought — thought has its own memory, its inertia. The unconscious does not forget easily, and consciousness must patiently illuminate it, like the sun that returns each day over the same field until the fog finally dissolves.

Healing is not only physical. Nor is it a single act. It is a state of mind, an act of continuous purification. It is not only about therapies, medicines, or methods. It is about inner hygiene — that invisible work through which you cleanse your thoughts, purify your feelings, release the images that muddy the water within you. Every person carries a reservoir of old thoughts, unspoken fears, and outdated identities that have not yet surrendered to the Light.

And how important it is to acknowledge: there are healed souls, there are people who have walked through hell and returned pure. There are former smokers, former alcoholics, former cancer patients. “Former” — not because they deny their past, but because they no longer vibrate on its frequency. They have learned to think in light, to breathe in peace. Healing begins with a choice — a quiet, inner, irreversible choice: “I choose health, I choose Life, I choose to think purely.”

This is not a slogan. This is a practice. A moving prayer. Every thought is a molecule that changes the water within the body. Every feeling — a vibration that opens or closes the path to God. That is why you must watch carefully what you allow into your thoughts. They are seeds that the unconscious plants deeply. If you leave weeds, they will grow. But if you tend your garden — life will blossom again.

People misunderstand one another because each of us hears through the filter of our own pain. But that is not a tragedy — it is a path. Sometimes God makes us miss each other so that we may meet more deeply, to hear not the words, but their inner meaning.

My conscience is clear — because I know that every act of communication is a process of cleansing. The pain that rises is a call from a deeper place, from that part which has not yet been heard, not yet healed. And since God does not heal halfway, He will continue to lead each of us toward the source of the pain, until we turn it into light.

To be a “former patient” does not only mean that the body has recovered. It means you have allowed the spirit to heal your thought. That you have recognized every drama as a process of purification, every pain as a revelation. That you have understood: illness is not the enemy, it is the language through which the soul speaks when something is not in harmony.

Every day can be healing if you live it with awareness — to watch your thoughts, to let them settle, to pray not with words, but with presence. To breathe slowly, to feel the air entering and leaving, to let the body remember that it is a temple. Healing is an act of love — not toward an ideal, but toward what is here and now.

And sometimes it seems to me that the soul is like a lake after a storm — long after the rain has stopped, waves still ripple on the surface. But if you leave it alone, if you do not disturb it, it becomes still again, reflective. Then you can once more see the sky within it.

So yes — every drama should know its own pond. To reflect itself there, to show its face, but also to dissolve into silence. Not to drown us, but to teach us to swim through our own consciousness with more light.

And when a thought of illness, fear, or guilt appears in me — I will look at it gently, without judgment, like a child frightened by its own shadow. I will say to it: “Thank you for showing me that there is still something in me that needs love.” And then I will inhale. I will exhale. And I will remember: every breath is an act of creation, every thought — an opportunity for healing.

Love remains beyond everything — beyond words, beyond silence, beyond fear. It is quiet, whole, pure, like water that always remembers its source.