The fragility of confidence and the courage to be human
This week I have gone through several personal episodes that have deeply shaken my confidence. I like to share real pieces of my life with you because I do not place myself in a position of absolute certainty, but rather in that of a learner, someone who is also navigating life, someone who doubts, stumbles, and chooses to stand up again. Everything that is born through Akhasine comes from that place, from a shared truth, from the intimate feeling that we do not walk alone, that we are part of one another even when we are not fully aware of it. Sharing is not a strategy for me, it is an act of coherence with what I feel and with the way I understand life.
One of these episodes led me to seriously question my ability to continue with a project in which I had invested time, energy, and a great deal of intention. A familiar inner voice appeared, the one that doubts, compares, highlights shortcomings, and measures the path only through results. Embracing inner trust has been difficult for me, and it still is, because trust is not a one-time decision, it is something that must be chosen again and again. At the same time, there is something I have learned to recognize over the years: no experience arrives without the possibility of transformation, and that transformation depends largely on the perception from which we choose to face it.
The stones on the path and the lessons that cannot be learned from books
I made a decision, and almost immediately stones began to appear on the path. Some were small, barely noticeable, while others were large, uncomfortable, and difficult to move around. Many times I have questioned whether I truly have the strength to continue. And this is where real, practical learning begins, the kind so many authors speak about, but that can only be understood when it is lived.
Viktor Frankl said that between stimulus and response there is a space, and in that space lies our freedom. We cannot always choose what happens to us, but we can choose the place from which we go through it. I have transcended other situations before, not without effort, not without falling and choosing again and again. And I sense that this is another one of those moments. Not because I have all the answers, but precisely because I do not. Continuing has become, in this moment, the greatest act of faith I know.
Not a blind or naive faith, but a deeply embodied one, a faith that coexists with fear, uncertainty, and doubt, yet still chooses to move forward. Because despite the stones, the path always appears. Perhaps not in the form our mind expected, but in the form our soul needs.
The inner compass and the courage to walk without guarantees
I often speak about living within uncertainty, not because it is easy, but because it is unavoidable. Our mind, designed to ensure survival, is not always an ally when there are no clear certainties. It seeks control, prediction, imagined futures, often driven by fear. This is why inner work is so necessary, learning how to guide the mind instead of being dragged by it.
There are inner signals that are subtle and confusing, that come without guarantees or promises. They are felt more than they are understood. Joseph Campbell spoke about following the call, even when the path is not visible, even when there is no map. After many hours of introspection, of observing myself, of falling and rising again, I know that I must continue. Not because the forecasts are favorable, they are far from what I expected, but because I have learned an essential rule of life: the path only appears by walking it.
Carl Jung said that life not lived is a kind of illness, and I feel that every time we ignore our inner compass, something inside us slowly begins to fade. Continuing, for me, is not running forward blindly, it is a way of honoring what feels true, even when it is uncomfortable, even when it is frightening.
Integration, gratitude, and the symbols that remind us of hope
Today I feel deeply grateful to be able to share this message with you. Because everything I integrate into my life eventually arrives with a situation where it can be applied. Theory always ends up asking for embodiment, experience, and reality. The sky had been cloudy for weeks, both outside and within, and today the sun finally appeared. While reflecting before writing these words, I was able to witness a beautiful rainbow, simple and powerful at the same time, and I could not help but feel it as a symbol of hope.
Not because everything is resolved, but because something inside me continues to choose trust. Sometimes hope is not euphoria, it is a quiet light that appears when you least expect it, reminding you that even after the storm, something new can emerge. Continuing does not always feel like bravery; sometimes it feels like exhaustion, vulnerability, or taking a step without knowing if there will be ground beneath your feet. And even so, continuing remains, for me, the most honest act of self-love and faith in life.
Thank you for being here, for reading, for walking alongside me. Because as long as someone is willing to continue, the path, in one way or another, always finds a way to reveal itself.