Today was not just a day of travel —
it was a pilgrimage.
I lost count of how many times I switched trains, buses, platforms.
Eight hours in motion
for just four hours of immersion.
But what I found in those four hours?
Priceless.
Conversations that awakened something ancient.
Encouragement that felt like home.
And a recurring message:
"Try again. And again. And again."
I spoke of founding a university.
Not the traditional kind —
but one that breathes.
One that listens.
One that dares to be slow and wise in the age of AI.
And to my surprise… everyone got it.
No skepticism. Only resonance.
And yet — somewhere between the cobbled clarity of Lisbon
and two more deep days of coaching ahead —
a quiet doubt slipped in:
Was this… too much?
Was I asking too much of this body,
this heart,
this will?
But then again:
Doing is just wanting, made real.
And wanting without doing? That’s the real weight.
Now, as the final bus fell into sudden darkness,
I smiled.
Not from certainty — but from a deeper knowing:
This path is mine.
The university, the vision, the calling —
they are not dreams.
They are directions.
My beloved is picking me up at the last stop.
And tonight, I ask nothing more from life
than a bed, a breath, and the soft silence of sleep.
Because yes, I am groggy.
But I am also grounded.
And tomorrow,
I’ll keep building the future
— even if I have to pack half-asleep.