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Sit down with a straight spine.

Put the soles of your shoes or feet directly on the ground.

Bring a deep breath in,

Exhale slowly.

Bring your shoulders as back as you can,

The sensation one ought to feel is that of one's heart bursting out,

Yet less romantic minds are encouraged to recall the classic image of an alien ripping out of Ripley's chest.

Breathe in,

breathe out.

Now relax your shoulders.

Put your attention within the body.

Feel the aliveness.

You are not just your brain.

You are your hands.

You are your feet.

you are your legs.

you are your sex.

Your real brain is your complete body,

in subtle terms it can be sensed,

it is what the ancients called the soul,

but the scientists have laughed out this idea.

And yet it seems: everybody seems to be either vain or miserable.

Me included.

Thus begins the quest for the soul: when one realizes that one's own existence is miserable, and that most people lives are miserable too. One is lost but this can be the start of a great adventure if one pays attention. Otherwise, you're in for a miserable time too.

What heals the heart in these situations? I remember how depression seemed to feel, a horrible heaviness, a disinterest in everything. I wanted to nullify my experience through pot and porn. I constantly scolded myself and it was unbearable living with myself.

The only way out is unconditional acceptance, because certain kinds of minds come with the mirror image: instead of periods of mania and depression, one comes to understand them as the waves of the ocean. Depression is the pull and mania is the push, and to each of these cycles corresponds a kind of work.

The liberation that we all seek comes from nullifying all pretensions, being as authentic and as truthful as one can be. To be courageous. To step outside and say things as things are. You will see very soon, nobody really cares and that's the point. To feel comfortable expressing who you are.

Winter can be as good as summer, if one know what to do in each season.

The day the heart can sing, and at night it can sulk.

Or it may follow the phases of the moon.

Who cares.

You are who you are,

You are meant to be indifferent to the seasons of your soul,

To observe them pass by,

To participate in the hopes and freshness of spring,

To joyfully accept summer's invitations to dance,

To fatten and sing during the harvest months,

To be frugal and efficient in these winter months.

Salud.