You know that state when something inside you clicks, and suddenly you find yourself at the point where beautiful explanations stop working. Where it is no longer possible to hide behind the “right words,” behind a refined psychological map, behind explanations about trauma, dynamics, profiles, complexity, or the familiar “I just need more time.” At this point, life stops measuring you by depth of understanding. It begins measuring you by clarity of choice. And immediately the facts become audible, the ones that cannot be negotiated: the body, the tension, the irritation, the flashes of FOMO, the doubt, the confusion, the quiet pull toward self-punishment through thought. This does not mean you are weak. It is simply the moment when the old program tries to reclaim authority, because its power depends on keeping you suspended.

The mind lives in the past and the future. Yes! That is it! It mainly lives in the past TRYING to forecast the future... You probably guessed it - your past is ALWAYS traumatic, so it is forecasting just that for you.... It is skilled at assembling narratives, constructing justifications, removing responsibility from decisions and relocating it into “process.” The mind can become very elegant precisely when it is afraid to change the shape of life you are living now. It draws diagrams. It explains. It selects the right language. It dresses fear in sophisticated philosophy. It does everything possible to preventy you to see your now and understand that you are actually ok, you are breathing... you are existing... there are no tigers chasing you right now... 

The body is built differently. The body does not read concepts. The body lives in the present. It does not debate with you, it responds. And if conditioning (trauma) exists, the body does not store it like a recording, it simply learns to survive. It reorganizes itself so that the same thing will not happen again. It develops strategies that once were intelligent forms of protection. And then a subtle substitution begins. Strategy starts to sound like intuition. Tension starts to sound like a boundary. Familiar pain starts to sound like chemistry. This is where many people make a critical error, because they begin to doubt not the stories of the mind, but the body itself.

The body does not lie in the present moment. It can be adapted, yes. It can be protective, yes. It can amplify reactions because once that was intelligent. But in the moment it tells the truth about what is happening now. And then another layer becomes available, not the mind and not psychological theater, but intelligence. Intelligence sees the whole field at once. It sees the body’s reaction. It sees the story trying to sit on top of it. It sees the past that launched the strategy. And it sees the most important thing: right now that past is not here. In the present moment, the situation you are rehearsing is not actually happening. There is only the reaction and your choice about what to do with it. You can give the reaction space without turning it into destiny. You can witness it without handing it the steering wheel. You can acknowledge: yes, my system reacts this way because it learned to survive like this at one point. And at the same time you can take the adult position: I am not required to build my life around protection from something that is not here.

At this point, everything begins to shift. Because doubt itself is often not intuition, but the voice of the false self that fears clarity. The false self does not want to see. It prefers to keep you in future anxiety and past explanations, because in that territory nothing has to be decided. So it whispers familiar lies to you: what if I rushed… what if I should have waited… what if they are almost ready… what if this is a sign. There was a time when that whisper could easily be mistaken for subtle wisdom. Now it reads differently. It is simply the old attachment imprint that is afraid to release an unfinished story. The body, however, responds very specifically. When the energy around me is genuinely alive, my body expands. A quiet lift appears. The nervous system settles. When I enter carefully dosed uncertainty, the opposite happens. Contraction. Flat energy. No peace. There is nothing philosophical about this. It is data.

This is also where something else became clear to me, something that arrived almost like a message from the field. If you look at life honestly, it becomes obvious that we are always playing. We play in relationships, in money, in wars, in parenting, in spirituality, in status, in business, in freedom, in loyalty, in being “right.” Inside the game itself there are no inherently important or unimportant games. But somehow we want to win, right? That moment of "win" is very particular to your mind though! For example, we might consider winning when we get a very important job, however, this job costs your family... Or we might consider winning staying in relationship which are dead inside for a long time, however, expired relationship prevents you from truly experiencing a joyful life with someone else. Maybe winning would be finishing what needs to be finished? maybe winning is letting go what needs to be let go? 

Importance is created by the stories we attach. We decide that this matters and that does not, and then we begin to live as if the entire meaning of life depends on the specific game we selected. And then we forget that it is a game at all and that the fun itself is in the game, while you are playing the game. The fun and joy is in the process of listening to a music, in the process of making love to the love of your life. They fun and joy is in the process of savoring the foods in the company of people you love.  So, when we forget that we are playing, that is when anxiety begins. That is when the pressure rises: I cannot make the wrong move. I must choose correctly. I must prove. I am not allowed to "lose". I can't allow to find clarity to act. And the more you forget the nature of the game, the more you begin to lose not inside the game, but inside your actual life. Because you stop living! 

Life wants one thing. To be lived. It sounds almost offensively simple, which is why most people overlook it. Your mission? It is very simple too - to LIVE THROUGH EXACTLY THESE EXPERIENCES YOU ARE NOT ALLOWING YOURSELF TO HAPPEN! How many things you must juggle to make sure everything is stable? How long have you been in full control of everything and everyone? How is your back? any issues? or your shoulders? headaches? 

But when you truly see the simplicity, anxiety begins to lose its authority. Because the point is not to win. The point is to live the direct experience. Moment by moment. Including everything that arrives along the way. From this place, any goal becomes permissible, because a goal in itself does not make you happier and does not make life inherently meaningful. There is no goal that guarantees happiness. There is no goal that makes life “correct.” There is only the capacity to live what is here now... with people who are with you now...  Where in the moment there is what is present, and there is not what is absent. THAT IS IT! THAT IS YOUR LIFE! and you are living it right now... That recognition is radically liberating. You can set any goal you wish. Without justification. And you can move toward it as a path of lived experience, not as an exam that determines your worth.

Yes, sometimes we choose goals that are not truly ours. Out of trauma. Out of compensation. Out of envy. Out of the need to prove. It happens. And even then, within this framework, nothing is fundamentally broken. Because the real distinction is not whether the goal is perfectly clean. The real question is whether you are actually living your life along the way. When you remember that this is a game, you cling less tightly to winning and losing, and you return more fully into experience. And when you are in experience, you are closer to truth. That is the only thing truly required of you.

This is also where the body completes the circle. Direct experience always moves through the body. Through breath. Through reaction. Through expansion. Through contraction. Through the quiet yes and no that do not require explanation. You can construct any mental architecture you like, but lived reality is always verified in the body. And when you begin to give attention to your reactions in real time, instead of escaping into future fear or past justification, a recalibration begins... You metabolize the meaning of the trauma now, in the present, and that begins to change not only your relationship to the past. It begins to change the very stories the past is made of. And when those stories shift, the present reorganizes. And with it, the future that is already forming right now through your actions, your clarity, and your refusal to betray your bodily knowing in exchange for elegant explanations. It is all happening right now, in front of your eyes, through the reality you are living right now. If your mind is regretting something that you don't have - it is a lie... because you chose what is in front of you right now and if you wake up in the same place - you just jumped into your future! You are already in the next day living this choice again.... and then again... and there you have it! your future has been happening to you all along! You missed it? It was always there! present! with you! every day! 

This is why I no longer romanticize doubt. I treat it like weather. Weather can be loud. Convincing. Familiar. It is still just weather. I look at facts. I look at presence. I look at actions. I look at whether reality is actually moving or being carefully held in suspension. And if I am offered more waiting without presence, more hints without clarity, more invitations to “understand” instead of live, my body answers before my mind does. It does not agree.

I have grown into a point where adulthood sounds very simple. There is choice. There is action. There are consequences. There is a life that is either being lived or endlessly analyzed. And the less I argue with this, the more quiet I become. Not the quiet of waiting. The quiet of the threshold. The place where bargaining with reality ends. Where I no longer pay with my life for someone else’s suspension. Where the body comes home, and intelligence finally stands beside it instead of arguing with it.