dance of the sun

Unyielding inspiration springs from the deepest meanings within.

It doesn’t wither away, not even in the harshest conditions.

It clings to life.

When a merciless winter freezes everything,

it hides so deep

it survives.

It’s never truly forgotten, even if hidden for years.

It reminds you of its presence.

Lifts its head now and then and asks:

Is it time yet?

It goes by many names.

Some call it a calling, others a gift.

It’s more than just a hobby.

You think about it all year long - maybe every day.

You dream about it.

It’s there in the crisp morning, before anything else comes to mind.

One person might call it passion.

Another, necessity.

Out of everything else - this, I will not give up.

It’s a beautiful thing if it can be shared with your dearest ones.

If they get excited because it excites you.

Or even carry it in their own hearts too.

One way or another, they understand:

this is a permanent part of who you are.

They make space for it, by making space for you.

They cheer it on, because they cheer for you.

Maybe without even knowing it they sense how big it truly is.

That what they’ve seen so far is just the tip of the iceberg.

The rest is still hidden.

And they want to see more.

Not for it, necessarily.

But for what they see it doing to you.

That spark in your eyes.

Maybe a few flyaway hairs.

A healthy flush on your cheeks.

The life-force rushing wild in your veins and radiating outward.

No words needed.

Like the sun itself is dancing on your forehead.

Love,

Pia

Do you have a version of yourself you miss?

Have you ever had a routine that made you come alive and then you just forgot it?

This happened to me with my three core words. 

If you’ve experienced something similar, you most likely know the feeling too.

Feeling of losing something valuable that you suddenly remembered you once had.

I learned from my coach at the time, Brendon Burchard, about three core words. 

I had chosen three meaningful core words for myself back in the day we lived in Uruguay.

I reminded myself actively about them, how they challenged me in a good way to show up as my best self.

I had several moments, when my usual decision would have killed something fun, spontaneous and unforgettable with my family.

But because of my three core words I chose differently.

I leaned into the authenticity of the person who I wanted to show up as.

And my family noticed.

They saw how I came alive in those moments.

They were there when I showed up as my playful relaxed self.

They remembered when I chose to play.

And then something happened and I forgot to carry with me those words.

It might have been a big change.

Or even just a small meaningful shift that took my focus elsewhere.

I don't clearly remember.

But the one thing why I want to share this with you is this.

I wish I had someone telling me this years back.

It is okay to forget, remember, and start again.

Deep down, it does not mean failure.

Deep down, it means you value something so much that you can go through the feeling of regret.

And find yourself on the other side.

The question is, are you willing to feel it?

The sadness it might bring when you may ponder upon moments you lost, because you forgot.

You never know how it might enrich your life without being brave enough to feel regret.

But you and I don't need to be left second guessing when we just dive right in. 

Let the emotions flood in.

And find what's on the other side.

Love,

Pia

mosaic

the scar tissue of the soul affects everything I do in the background.

but what if I decide not to be ashamed of it?

of being, in some ways, incomplete.

I’ve been broken and put back together again.

wounded in ways that have healed over time – but left their marks.

what if I see them as part of me?

what if I treasure everything I’ve been through as my greatest teacher?

because of all of it, I am who I am.

one of a kind.

I carry supplies in my basket that others don’t even know exist.

I gathered them through the hardships I’ve endured.

they are like medals pinned to my chest – signs of battles survived.

because I am a victor – I’ve come out of war alive.

sometimes the scar tissue aches more.

other times, I forget it even exists.

but it would be a lie to say it isn’t there.

and that would be sad.

it wouldn’t help anyone.

I’d only be pretending – trying to look like someone I’m not.

I’d be denying parts of the road I’ve walked.

and in doing that, I’d be tossing aside the treasures I gathered along the way –

the understanding of human brokenness,

the aching of being alive,

and the hidden mercy and beauty within all that pain.

the healing that flows from the embrace of eternal love.

a beautiful mosaic made from broken pieces might just be

the best thing to scatter little sparks of hope

into the cracks of those who are shattered and desperate.

wounds leave their marks,

but as long as there is life, there is hope – even in the ashes.

when the fire that devoured everything finally goes out,

the ashes can still nourish something breathtakingly new.

so with a faint smile, I gently stroke the aching scar.

you are beautiful,

I whisper to it softly.

love,

pia