17. The value of what remains. Mind, body and spirit

There are times of the year when life invites us to make space: to choose what to keep among projects, relationships and objects. At home, in the office, within ourselves. Making space to  clearly see  what remains.
Each cycle, as it draws to a close, asks us to take a sincere look at the stuff we have built around our dreams.

We are approaching the end of the year, the time when nature slows down and the soil rests to prepare to flourish again.
We too are called to distinguish what nourishes from what holds back, what weighs down from what sustains.

We have accumulated experiences, information, relationships, desires. True wealth, for me, comes as much from accumulation (think of the beauty of life experience, but also that of some objects) as from selection.

Knowing how to let go is an act of mastery, a sacred gesture that restores dignity to the material-because what we rid of the superfluous once again vibrates with meaning.

But knowing how to cherish our own wealth-what we have learned, the relationships we have built, the memories that have shaped us-is equally important.
It requires commitment, revision, lucidity: understanding where we have worked, what we can improve, where we can simply accommodate.

I love cycle closures as much as new beginnings.

The journey of these months has taught me that well-being comes from authenticity.
This awareness allows me today to welcome the end of a chapter and look boldly toward new horizons.

To build, to create, to organize, to earn, to choose with awareness: all of this is spiritual when it arises from a clear intention, and I am also a spiritual person who likes to live well in the world of matter.

The body is temple, time is instrument, money is energy in motion, and the quality of our life depends on how much awareness we have while we act.

And so, as the year prepares to close, I wonder-and I ask you:

What do you want to take with you into the next cycle?
What can you return to the earth, with gratitude, because it has already fulfilled its purpose?

Before rushing into the new, look at the beauty of what remains.
Evaluate the projects that can still sprout, gently close those that have not found fertile ground, celebrate those you have completed, and let the others simply become a memory.

In sources of inspiration today, I leave there the image reminiscent of the work "Composition with Red, Blue and Yellow" by Piet Mondrian, master of abstraction and balance.
His black lines delineate space as the boundaries of human experience, while the primary colors - red, blue and yellow - represent the body, mind and spirit in constant dialogue.
White spaces, on the other hand, evoke the fertile void: the place where everything rests and from which the new can be born.

Mondrian sought the pure form of essence, the order that comes from letting go of the superfluous.
So too, at the end of each cycle, we are called to simplify in order to regain harmony.

In the silent language of art, this painting reminds us that what remains-when everything has been chosen, understood and released-is precisely balance.