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My father visited me in a dream this morning. We were talking about some old computer and how much work I’d done on it over the years… It was playful and familiar. At the end, he put his head on my shoulder, and I woke up.

It was 3:33am.

I haven’t been sleeping a lot these past weeks. Chalk it up to a personal transition, and the bookend to one of the most difficult years of my life. Not only for the unique or greater challenges, but also for having them occur concurrently with my decision to confront and accept my old stories, beliefs, and patterns, as well as make every effort to break through and shed my worn and battered skin. What follows is a period of heightened sensitivity and vulnerability, and nothing can prepare you for the intensity of some of these experiences. It is a rebirth, though it appears to be very similar to what came before.

But we do survive it.

I’ve failed in some ways and succeeded in others; that’s how it goes. Stumble, stand, trip, fall, adapt, and stand again. Run, trip, fall, stand, and curse at the universe. Move on. Solvitur ambulando. These turning points are rarely beholden to one’s preferred schedule. It goes as it will, depending on the participant — me — and their willingness to dive into a larger, deeper, less familiar pool of cold and refreshing uncertainty.

My biggest mistake so far has been isolation and too much solitude. The last three years have been some of the worst I’ve ever had, as they have been for many others — particularly those who have chosen to, and will continue to, stand firm against the false and fraudulent narratives that are toxic and murderous to the many. Regardless, it is arrogant to believe I am here to save anyone other than myself. Live the dream, but remember you’re only passing through.

They say what we see, what they want to be real.

They’ll keep trying. That is their goal, after all. What would life be like without a nemesis, a worthy counterforce to our limitless creative power? You choose what is true for you. And you keep choosing.

Tomorrow is one year.
Cheers, Josip.