There are a few things I carry. I don’t mean beliefs or ideas—I mean things I just know. Not because someone taught me, but because they’ve always been with me.

First, you’re not separate. You’re a piece of God. A localized expression of the whole thing. You’re not broken. You’re not trying to get somewhere. You’re already part of it. If people really remembered that, we’d treat each other differently. It would change how we speak, how we touch, how we lead, how we love.

Second, the fire in you is real. It’s not about escaping this world. It’s about staying lit in it. In grief. In relationships. In work. In boredom. The fire doesn’t go out unless we smother it. And we’re taught to smother it. I didn’t. That’s what I’ve been doing quietly for years—learning how to stay in the flame, without performing, without shrinking.

Third, systems don’t hold the truth. Not religion, not institutions, not tradition. The soul does. The inner knowing does. And if you’re aligned with that, a lot of stuff stops making sense—at least the way the world wants it to. But that’s not failure. That’s the beginning of clarity.

Fourth, love isn’t merging. It’s not rescuing. It’s not longing. It’s clean presence. It’s standing beside someone without trying to change them or disappear into them. That kind of love is rare. It doesn’t always look impressive. But it’s the most honest thing I know how to offer.

Fifth, I’m not afraid of death. I’ve always been close to it. Not just physical death—ego death, identity death, the unraveling. I sit quietly with those who are leaving something behind. I don’t fill the space with noise. I hold it. That’s what I do.

These aren’t teachings. I’m not asking you to believe anything. I’m just saying—if something in this rings true, maybe you’re holding fire too. And maybe we’re not here to be understood. Maybe we’re just here to Be the flame within.