Two circles in the sky, two truths in existence
Today the sky is cloudy, yet the sun can still be seen hidden between the clouds, holding a perfect size in the vastness of the heavens, placed at the exact distance that allows life to exist on Earth. From here, its apparent size is the same as that of the moon, which by contrast is small but close to us, silently accompanying our nights. I watch one set and the other rise as two identical circles in the sky, equal to the eye yet profoundly different in reality, and in that simple image I see the structure of existence itself.
This apparent coincidence is not accidental. The fact that the sun and the moon share the same visual size from our perspective is what allows eclipses to exist, moments where light and shadow meet perfectly, neither fully dominating the other. In ancient cultures, eclipses were seen as sacred thresholds, reminders that balance is not static, but something that happens when opposites align for an instant. Perhaps life itself works in the same way, revealing its deeper meaning only when we allow both forces to meet.
Polarity as the language of reality
For me, the sun and the moon represent the two polarities that shape everything on Earth, the negative and the positive, the expansion and the contraction, not as opposites in conflict but as a complete whole. They do not cancel each other out, they define each other, and without one the other would lose its meaning.
In Taoism, this understanding is expressed through yin and yang, not as good and bad, but as complementary movements of the same underlying reality. Yin contains the seed of yang, and yang carries the seed of yin. Darkness is not the enemy of light, it is the space that allows light to be perceived. Stillness is not the absence of movement, it is the condition that gives movement direction.
Modern science, surprisingly, echoes this ancient wisdom. Physics tells us that particles behave as waves and waves behave as particles, depending on how they are observed. Matter and antimatter emerged together at the beginning of the universe, equal and opposite, shaping everything that exists. Reality itself seems to speak in dualities, not to divide us, but to invite understanding.
The integration of what we are
I am both of those forces as well. Carl Jung called them anima and animus, the inner feminine and the inner masculine, not as roles imposed by the world but as living energies within the psyche. For a long time, I tried to eliminate what I did not like about one side of myself, believing that growth meant becoming only what felt comfortable or socially acceptable. Yet the real secret is not elimination, but completeness.
Jung warned that what we repress does not disappear, it descends into the unconscious, where it gains power and eventually expresses itself in distorted ways. What we refuse to see within ourselves becomes our shadow, and the shadow is not evil, it is simply unlived life. Integration does not mean acting out every impulse, but acknowledging what exists, giving it consciousness, and allowing it to take its rightful place.
I am the person who cries with an open heart, and I am also the one who tastes the ecstasy of happiness without restraint. Both are me, and neither is more correct nor more valuable than the other. Just as Earth and Sky coexist, as life and death define each other, as yin and yang dance in eternal balance, even matter and antimatter once met at the beginning of the universe and annihilated into pure energy. Everything exists to be understood, not to be feared.
Emotions as forgotten teachers
For a long time, humanity has feared certain emotions, labeling them as weakness, darkness, or failure, without realizing that they are simply the other pole of the same coin. Joy cannot exist without sorrow, courage cannot exist without fear, and love cannot exist without vulnerability. When we reject one side, we fragment ourselves, and fragmentation is where suffering begins.
Neuroscience shows that emotions are not obstacles to reason, but essential signals for survival and meaning. Antonio Damasio demonstrated that without emotional input, decision-making collapses. Feeling is not the opposite of intelligence, it is one of its deepest expressions. Yet culturally, we have learned to suppress, to control, to numb, forgetting that emotions are messengers, not enemies.
Integration is not an easy path, but it is an honest one. It asks us to sit with discomfort, to listen rather than suppress, and to recognize that every emotion carries information about who we are and what we need. Nothing within us is accidental.
Walking on what remains
As this year comes to its end, I see life as a path made of stepping stones that slowly disappear behind us as we walk. The past does not return, and the future remains invisible. Only when we place our foot does the next piece appear, because the present moment is the only reality we ever truly touch.
This idea resonates with both existential philosophy and quantum physics. Time, as we experience it, is not a solid line but a sequence of moments collapsing into reality through observation. We do not move through time as much as time moves through us. The future is potential, the past is memory, and the present is the only place where life actually happens.
This understanding brings both humility and peace. We do not need to see the entire road to walk it. We only need the courage to take the next step, trusting that the ground will appear beneath us when we do. Trust, in this sense, is not blind faith, but a deep alignment with the rhythm of life itself.
Becoming whole
Perhaps the sun and the moon within us are not meant to be resolved, but embraced. Perhaps wholeness is not about choosing one side, but about standing at the center, where both are allowed to exist. When we stop fighting our own nature, something softens. The inner war ends, and a quiet clarity emerges.
To be whole is not to be perfect. It is to be honest. To recognize that we are light and shadow, certainty and doubt, strength and fragility, all moving together in a fragile and beautiful balance. And maybe, just maybe, that balance is what it truly means to be alive.
A poem for everyone
For those who are accompanied,
For those who are alone,
For those living with illness,
For those still searching,
For those who believe they have already found themselves,
For everyone, without exception, I dedicate these words:
Your soul chose you,
Even if you believe that is all you are.
Do not listen to the world, listen to your heart,
For the world never dried the tears that were born there.
Its voice is gentle, almost invisible,
Yet it is truer than a thousand screams.
It does not need to become something else,
Because what is true does not transform to be accepted,
It simply is.
The path will be dark at times,
And many questions will remain unanswered,
For we never learned to honor the questions themselves,
We only learned to chase answers,
As if silence held no wisdom.
And what if you were the answer?
Some say the truth is so simple
That we refuse to see it,
Because simplicity dismantles every illusion
The world taught us to desire.
We wait for great promises, for distant lights,
For meanings that arrive from outside,
Because accepting yourself as the answer
Feels too close, too quiet, too real.
And so the truth waits,
Not lost, not gone,
But resting in the depths of your heart,
With the key still warm
In the palm of your own hand.