February 15

5h15 CET. Berlin.

I did not intentionally start writing at 15-15-15 - but it's the first thing I'm noticing when I'm opening this journal entry.

I love these little coincidences.

Except they aren't, are they.

I don't believe in divine anything or some greater plan. At my core - I am still a skeptic through and through.

I do, however, believe that we notice way more than we give ourselves credit for - if we learn how to tune into our bodies and listen to what we have to say. This can include things ranging from hidden dangers lurking in someone else's eyes - to subtle motions in our own stomachs telling us we do not, in fact, like what's happening around us. It can also include any number of these so-called "coincidences."

Much like dreams, there is so much going on around us at any given time, that if we actually were to pay attention to all of it - well, first we'd collapse into an overstimulated mess. But then we'd notice the infinitely beautiful expanse of connections between each and every waking moment of existence.

Which brings me back to 15-15-15.

The days ahead - no, the moments ahead - feel so wondrous and previous

But - these future moments are ghosts. They do not exist yet, and are also not guaranteed.

So right now - a moment of peace, at this ludicrously early silent hour of (checks) 5h32 now. A sleeping Berlin outside my window - and, of course - the softest touch of cold air against my nostrils.

I want to have time for everything. I accept that I will not.

Still written in my memory palace:

"It will end without ever having felt like enough - and yet - it will always have been enough."

This is no prophecy - it's a warning signposting an avoidable danger.

The current moment needs to feel precious, alive, and true.

Once you've done that - you've already succeeded. Now just keep stringing moments like that onto your life, for as long as you have. You can't keep them - you won't even remember most of them - but having picked up a moment and examined it fully, you can then release it and your body will maybe still remember its lingering warmth on your fingertips.

And - accept that perfection is its own impossible distraction. We will always have moments that roll past, unnoticed. Moments where we wished we were doing something else, were already better or different than we currently are. We'll blink and realise we missed something a loved one told us or we ate half our plate without tasting the food. That's okay, too - besides being part of being human, if staying present came so easily, would be truly be able to appreciate it this much?

In the end, the truest form of loving someone is staying unflinchingly present in the current moment, aware of every single breath.