December 16, 2024 — Diary Page

I had spoken Spanish for 23 years, and at nearly 24, I moved to a place where English was the only thing my surroundings offered. No matter how much diversity and multiculturalism was close by, English was what prevailed. After two years and a few months in that new reality, I returned for the second time this year to Latin America, and on the first night, I began to feel an unfamiliarity with this reality. My brain, desperately, tried to construct the reality unfolding around me, as if it were pieces of a giant LEGO project, and that need within me screamed: What is happening? Why aren’t you recognizing this reality?

Landing at the Benito Juárez International Airport in Mexico City (19.4361° N, 99.0719° W), in Terminal T2, it was nighttime. Unlike Denver, Colorado (39.7392° N, 104.9903° W), the weather during this season felt fresh, temperate. My phone was about to die due to a drained battery, and I found myself diving, desperately, into the pages of my current reading: The Divine Comedy. I was seated in the middle, with two men beside me.

I reached a part of Purgatory, on Dante’s journey, where he mentions God’s communication and its forms. This threw me into a trance because he was describing, almost exactly, the way He has communicated with me:

“God produced this invisible speech, these images that speak without a voice, heard by the eyes, of which there is no example on Earth.”

After reading this, I was paralyzed with emotion. Three months AGO, God had intervened during one of my internal struggles, through trances that mirrored Dante’s description. That piece of the puzzle I have been building about discovering myself—internally and through what assembles, disassembles, destroys, and reconstructs in the external—had strategically fallen into place in this process of understanding myself and my physical location in this world.

After continuing to absorb more of the pages, I tried to sleep. Uncomfortable in my airplane seat, I woke up just before the descent, and a few minutes later, I was already on Mexican soil. I tried to breathe and calm myself. I recalled the different versions of myself: the one at 19 years old when I visited Mexico for the first time, filled with the emotions of discovering a new reality, and now, at 26, arriving from the United States.

There are so many versions and faces of myself throughout time that I embrace deeply: that natural joy, that excitement to live, to discover, to explore, and to learn from this world. Like that purity in the beginnings of my own existence, wanting to develop myself and observe myself from all directions. I never want to lose that essence because it has been the origin of my life’s purpose.

Visiting places where former versions of myself have existed gives me the opportunity to recognize my current evolution and glance at life as it was in those pasts. I have returned to visit a place where I created memories—both solitary and shared. I try to find myself in those memories, and when I attempt to do so, questions arise within me, reminding me of the importance of being present in every moment of my life. Because now I see it: I see the temporality of life, how changes emerge every second, how everything is in constant motion, how reality disappears, appears, and transforms.

I understand that letting go is also a practice, a lesson for this temporary human body we are experiencing. This life is a gift—a moment in the eternity of the infinite universe—to witness ourselves evolve through the decisions we make in truth, in self-knowledge, and in honesty. Each decision is a piece that builds our reality.

It’s crucial to be brutally honest with ourselves about what we want to experience so we can direct those decisions toward the path we wish to reach. Perhaps the interpretation of “God sees and knows everything” means that when you act in ways you know are not honest or real, your reality records it. That energy manifests, giving you a reality based on who you are, what you are doing, and how you are acting. You can’t expect something pure and true if you are not being that. You are the one seeing, the one knowing what you are doing. You can’t escape yourself because you are the one who will have to face those consequences.

I reflect on my life up to this point and realize that, even in those processes of learning, unknowing, and rediscovering, there are no real culprits. I now understand that I can hold my heart through my conscious breath. From this foundation, I can choose to remove myself from places and people where my soul doesn’t feel cared for or respected. From that respect, honesty, and love for myself, I can also direct myself toward others and the external world. I can give myself the time I need to breathe, to narrate my reality when it feels like too much, to give or not give explanations. I can set the boundaries necessary to protect this inner purity I’m rediscovering, communicate how I feel and what I want to others. I also deserve to meet and connect with human beings who are responsible for themselves—who allow themselves to be seen and share from a place of care, self-realization, and self-discovery.

I’ve entered a new state of being where I know I have no obligation to prove my worth or loudly declare to the external world who I am. My only responsibility to myself is to exist in my life consciously, being myself, generating all these expressions, forms, and realities from a foundation connected to God in my ongoing process of self-discovery.

Life has never felt as exciting as it does now. I want to breathe, to listen, to speak, to sleep, to eat, to laugh, to express my body and feel the heavy breathing of someone close. I want to continue knowing God, to travel, to CREATE, to keep learning, to focus naturally, to see the sunrise, to walk, to run, to work, and to continue manifesting the reality I want to experience. I want to exist from that ME first. I want to protect my energy.

Thank you, life.