17/12/2024
Arriving at this breathtakingly beautiful place, I can’t help but stand in awe. I lay down in the fisherman’s net, stretched out like a hammock, and watch the sunset. Slowly, the clouds move and shift, blending into one another, while the sunlight paints its colors across them, changing gently and continuously in their many layers.
The children are sitting on a swing hanging from a tree, where the surf breaks against the shore. Shells dangle from the illuminated branches of the tree, which is seamlessly integrated into the platform that holds the fisherman’s net hammock.
Lately, life has felt as if the things I call out to the universe somehow manifest into reality.
It’s like taking a journey through time—not backward, but forward—into a realm of infinite possibilities, where I get to choose the most beautiful ones. Even though I can’t control what happens, pieces of those visions become real. It feels like a loving kind of magic. The best time. I’m so grateful to be alive.
It reminds me of Albert Hofmann’s words, how he said it’s truly something wonderful to become aware of creation rather than simply wandering blindly through paradise.
Gratitude fills me. My sense of time dissolves (I think I might be "time-blind," the way some people are color-blind).
This is another one of those experiences that shape the depth of my existence—the kind that makes life, in hindsight, feel so rich and full. The kind that envelops me in profound gratitude.