Life is offering me its gifts with an intensity I had never known before. Perhaps it is because my mother’s passing has opened doors I never realized existed. Losing her felt like letting go of a part of myself I had taken for granted. In mourning,I have found myself reflecting on death, the fleeting nature of life, the relentless passage of time, and the vast mystery of existence.

Her absence left a void—not just of sorrow, but of questions. Death, once an abstract and distant concept, suddenly became real, tangible. Perhaps that is why I feel more open now, my senses heightened, my awareness sharpened. I perceive life differently, almost as if my very skin absorbs emotions directly.

It is a strange phase—both painful and beautiful. Like a storm that strips away the old, leaving fertile ground for something new to take root. Yet in this transformation, I have realized something curious: the past does not let go so easily. It clings to us in unexpected ways—sometimes as a whisper reminding us of who we were, sometimes as a weight holding us back.

The past insists on making itself known. It disguises itself as nostalgia, tradition, honorable memory. Yet, as I navigate this heightened awareness of the present, the future calls.

I stand at a crossroads: between nostalgia and possibility, between what once was and what has yet to be, between staying trapped in the past or choosing to move forward. It is not about forgetting but about learning to live with absence while embracing change.

Open to change. Open to life.

“Time fades behind those who leave this world.” Simone de Beauvoir wrote this in A Very Sweet Death, a book in which she recounts her mother’s illness and passing, reflecting on grief and mortality. She reminds us that while the loss of a loved one leaves an irreparable void, life continues, bringing with it opportunities for growth and transformation.

Death, with its brutal finality, forces us to confront an undeniable truth: life moves forward. In this sense, grief is a lesson in change. It teaches us that clinging to the past is futile. We must open ourselves to what is ahead, to life itself, ever ready to explore the unknown—even without a map, guided only by intuition.

This is an intimate, personal, and profound transformation. And we must not allow society, with its obsession for labels and definitions, to confine us to what we once were instead of recognizing who we are now.

Society tries to place us in outdated molds, locking us into past versions of ourselves, as if time does not flow.

But as I wrote five years ago in  The Art of Detachment:

“Through this journey of decades of struggle and work, I have come to the conviction that I am not defined by a company, a job title, a degree, an award, or a nameplate engraved in gold. I am not defined by the size of an office or the brand of the car I drive.

I am not defined by a watch.

I am not defined by a seat in first class.

I am not defined by the last chess match I lost.

None of these define me—unless I allow them to. That is why I chose not to give authority to a building, a view from a balcony, or a business card with elegant lettering.

After 40 years in business, I am not a businessman. After decades in advertising, I am not an advertiser. I was a broadcaster, and although I miss the microphones of Radio Mil and Monumental, that does not define me either.”

I’m not. I am

It is not what we own that defines us, but who we are. Our character, our generosity, our passions—these shape us. We are defined by our choices, not only the grand decisions that steer our lives but also the small ones we make each day.

We are defined by being: loyal friends, present parents, loving children, patient grandparents, supportive siblings.

We are defined by our integrity.

By our presence—or our absence.

By what we do when no one is watching.

That is what truly matters. That is the only thing I hold onto, for I choose to live fully in the present.

But the past insists…

Some people cannot let go. They cling desperately to who they once were—even if it is not exactly who they were, but merely what their memory has chosen to preserve. It is like trying to hold sand in a clenched fist.

They trap themselves in their own illusions and assume that we are all similarly trapped. To them, the past is sacred, untouchable, a temple that must not be disturbed. They resist change and, in doing so, cannot accept the evolution of others.

They cling to their memories as if they were absolute truth, reinforcing their narratives through repetition—until their version of events hardens into stone.

These are the voices that insist the past was better, that change is betrayal. Those who dare to evolve are met with judgment and ridicule. Poor souls, I think—they do not know what they are missing. But I also know this: the past is a reference, not a residence. The past is what we remember, not necessarily what happened.

It is up to us to build and rebuild, to forgive and seek forgiveness, to reconcile and find peace. To accept—even without fully understanding—and to move forward.

It is not about denying who we were, but allowing ourselves to be who we are meant to become.

Because while the past insists, the future calls.

…And the future calls

Those of us who choose to change our world through decisions that bring us expansion and freedom live in a different place.

Neither better nor worse—just different.

We let go.

We move.

We flow.

We choose possibility over rigidity.

Transformation over resistance.

The present over embalmed nostalgia.

We turn the page and keep moving forward.

And because we believe we can change the world, we do. Even if it is only our small corner of it.

Even if it is only our small world.

Today, here, now

Those who knew me in the past know that I was once driven by ego. Back then, it seemed necessary.

My career, my businesses, my reputation, my personal brand—everything blended into a perfect cocktail that my ego relished.

And some will always see me through that lens. But that is not my burden to bear.

If someone insists on reducing me to a past version of myself, that is their choice. And though difficult conversations may be inevitable, dialogue is always better than silence.

Just last Sunday, after 38 years of no communication, I had a long-overdue conversation. I expressed gratitude and offered peace, though I cannot say I fully achieved it. Still, the journey itself was rewarding, and it reminded me once again: those who dwell in the past do not understand the fleeting nature of our existence.

So today, in this moment, I choose to explore a new dimension, to embrace life as one watches a flower bloom at its own pace in spring.

Because living from the heart, rather than the ego, is a challenge. And coexisting with those who still operate from the ego is an even greater one.

But no, thank you—I prefer the lightness of freedom.

Connecting with the spirit

Dear reader, today I want to connect with you from the heart.

To acknowledge that we are spirits in human form and that spirituality is, at its core, connection. Connection with ourselves, with others, with the world we inhabit.

An invisible yet undeniable thread that binds us all.

And sometimes, life places us on the tracks, only for the passing train to set us free.

Let us pause. Breathe. Feel this connection—to everything that was, is, and will be.

The Butterfly in My Hands

Freedom has gifted me a privacy I cherish, as delicately as holding a butterfly in my hands. It cannot be grasped too tightly without harm, and even the slightest movement may set it soaring.

It is a magical moment—one to be deeply savored.

Because while the past insists, the future beckons.

I miss my mother deeply. And as she always wished—we continue.

The past insists. The future beckons.

Life, here and now, awaits those who dare to answer.