I ought to say that I love authenticity, that rare and incredible attribute so difficult to find in any object, attitude or person. You know, I find it so easy to distinguish but so hard to encounter. Like a pearl, effortless to define, painfully hard to collect.
Why authenticity? Because time gets by, centuries pass over this planet and all we care about is what we seem to be. Not who we are but who we are like. We are unable to envisage that everything is connected by this verb called to be, no like behind.
We create, we talk, we love… And we can do these hundreds of times. But even with that so clear. We do not are. We do not create ourselves. And if we do, we design it to please others.
We should see life as an incredible, gigantic piece of art. An olympic symphony, a vital manifesto. That easy, that hard. That basic idea combined with its hard accomplishment. Simplicity is hard to catch.
Fidelity, faithfulness to oneself is an attitude we must avoid when interferes with the tough construction and shaping of our life. We must not be afraid of change, of changing, of letting go: to be released of the rope. Tying knots just defines and limits our life with the walls of who we were, not who we are.
To be is wanting to do so.