Thanks

It doesn’t really matter if it’s 46 or 47.
There are numbers that belong to the calendar… and others that belong to the soul.

The most valuable date is not the one written on a document, but the one on which you are born again.
They say — and it’s not a small truth — that we all have two lives, and that the second one begins when we realize we only have one. I realized this a few years ago, and since then, something quietly fell into place.

I won’t use words to explain what it feels like to live well.
Because that — what truly matters — is ineffable.
It doesn’t fit into language. It can only be recognized.

But I can name a few truths I learned along the way:

That it’s not what goes into the mouth that harms, but what comes out of it.
That life is good, deeply good.
That it is so just and so perfect, that it would be impossible for what seems evil to come from the same source as everything beautiful that surrounds us.
That my body had been on this material plane for a long time, but my soul had only just begun to arrive.

And I learned something else:
That good is so powerful, that just a few years lived consciously can dissolve decades of confusion.
That clarity doesn’t erase the past, but it makes it irrelevant.
That what was blurry was not life… it was the way I was looking at it.

Today is not about explaining.
Today is about giving thanks.

Thank you to this strangely precise existence.
Thank you to this silent justice.
Thank you to this unrepeatable chance of being here, now, awake.

And above all, thank you to you, Emiliano.
For who you were when you didn’t know.
For who you are now that you see.
And especially for who you are about to become.

Because there is a version of you — very close now —
that no longer needs to search,
only to keep walking.