Category Archives: Reflections

Here I pause to think out loud. From societal questions to inner transformations, these entries explore ideas, emotions, and contradictions — with no need for perfect conclusions. It’s where thought meets feeling.

#31 What I don’t want to write about

This week, I tried to write a post several times, failing miserably at each attempt.

Initially, I wanted to write about my holiday in Portugal. I managed a few paragraphs and even came up with a title I really liked. It felt simple, catchy, and fitting for the overall topic I had in mind: “The importance of taking a break.” But by the time I reached paragraph five, I had already lost the plot. I was writing about anything but the importance of taking a break.

Instead, I found myself rambling about the thoughts that had accompanied me during my vacation in Portugal—things like “I’m grateful for this…”, “I found that so annoying…”, “That person was a creep”, “That other person was so nice”, and so on.

I read the whole thing out loud again, and it irritated me. I didn’t want to put anybody else through that unexciting, boring collection of random thoughts. So, I deleted it and started all over again.

My next idea was to talk about a project that I’ve had in mind for a while now: reading extracts from books that taught me valuable lessons. This time, however, the title I came up with was disastrous: “A reading project.” Just for the record, I think it’s important to come up with the title at some point during the writing process. It gives me clear direction—an answer to the quintessential writer’s question: “What do I want to write about?” But no, “A reading project” didn’t strike a chord. It was too broad, and somehow I ended up talking about childhood dreams I had long forgotten.

Today, three hours of my precious time went by between unexciting meal prepping, interrupted second-season episodes of Fleabag, chips, large cups of coffee, and random words written on WordPress. All this while the sun was shining brightly outside. And there I was, thinking, Well then, when it’s raining you can’t really complain about it.

At that point, I was ready to give up. I was starting to feel like a fraud, questioning my skills, creativity, attention span, life—while also feeling deep guilt for wasting a sunny day. WTF?!

Then I realized something—or better, I found something to blame for my lack of ideas: society, once again. Of course! In these times of uncertainty (I think this is one of my most used words lately), insecurity (this is my second), and lack of collective purpose—other than worrying about war, having a stable job, and how crazy we’re all becoming, ignorant, and trapped in a vicious cycle of extreme events (which, in my case, feels like the beginning of a new Middle Age).

But again, no. That has nothing to do with my writing skills, creative process, and so on. I’m just in my own process. I’m realizing, once again, that I don’t have to figure out what I want to write about. Instead, I just need to go with what’s true to me in a specific moment—which, in itself, is a challenging endeavor.

So, in the end, I would conclude by saying that there is no magic formula. For me, every post is a new, very different experience. The only thing I can do is try to look into myself honestly and figure out what’s true to me in the moment.

What we want to write about sometimes comes by excluding what we don’t want to write about. Hence, letting go of what doesn’t resonate with us in a given moment and leaving space for what does.

#29 Uma breve distinção: ambição construtiva e ambição destrutiva

Eu tento sempre pensar em qual será o próximo passo importante que darei na minha vida. E com “passo importante”, quero dizer algo que me fará avançar como indivíduo. No entanto, às vezes me questiono se essa mentalidade não pode acabar complicando nossa vida, em vez de melhorá-la.

Ouso fazer uma distinção entre ambição construtiva e ambição destrutiva. E, ao usar “destrutiva”, não o faço de maneira leviana. Pelo contrário, acredito que uma ambição mal direcionada pode nos levar à perda da saúde, tanto física quanto mental. E não apenas a nossa própria saúde, mas também a das pessoas ao nosso redor. Um exemplo claro disso é a figura de Gordon Gekko, do filme Wall Street dos anos 80, cuja filosofia “ganância é boa” (“greed is good”) reflete perfeitamente os perigos da ambição destrutiva.

O drama dessa questão é que quem é um vetor da ambição destrutiva, na maioria das vezes (e digo isso com base apenas na minha observação pessoal, sem qualquer fundamento em pesquisa científica), não tem consciência disso. Ou, então, foi tão corrompido por essa ambição que já não há mais volta.

Por outro lado, quem manifesta ambição construtiva tem um poder incrível: sua energia parece fluir sem esforço e iluminar muito além de si mesmo. Acredito que essa ambição surja da aceitação de que a vida é feita de ciclos, mais ou menos semelhantes, mas sempre desconhecidos. Podemos imaginar o amanhã, mas nunca saberemos exatamente como ele se desenvolverá. E não saber o que nos espera, não ter controle absoluto, não é algo ruim. Pelo contrário, aprender a se entregar ao desconhecido nos ensina a aceitar o fluxo natural da vida.

Já a ambição destrutiva parece estar enraizada no desejo de controle. E esse desejo, por sua vez, nasce do medo de perdê-lo. Por isso, essa forma de ambição tem um poder corrompedor: tudo aquilo que não sabemos deixar ir tem o poder de corromper nossa alma.

#25 Coerenza interiore e cambiamenti personali tra verità e onestà

Onestà: La qualità interiore di chi si comporta con lealtà, rettitudine e sincerità, in base a principi morali ritenuti universalmente validi.

Verità: Carattere di ciò che è vero, conformità o coerenza a principi dati o a una realtà obiettiva.

Vocabolario Treccani

Queste definizioni, prese dal vocabolario e lette al volo nel contesto in cui viviamo oggi, mi fanno pensare a una vecchia cornice impolverata appesa al muro di una casa abbandonata chissà dove. Devo dire che molte altre parole che incarnano ideali morali hanno su di me lo stesso effetto malinconico, se considerate in relazione alla realtà che ci circonda. Eppure, continuo a cercarle dentro di me, a perdermi in un mondo che oscilla tra il complesso e il superficiale, spesso confondendomi.

L’onestà, come valore, l’ho sempre distinta dalla verità come concetto, almeno inconsciamente – o almeno credo. Tuttavia, quando mi trovo coinvolto in dinamiche complesse, sia sentimentali che professionali, a volte utilizzo questi due termini in modo intercambiabile, confondendo i loro significati. Ma questa confusione, tutto sommato, la considero positiva perché mi spinge a riflettere più attentamente su entrambi. Non mi interessa tanto esplorare il loro significato o l’etimologia – non avrei le competenze necessarie, non essendo né linguista, né antropologo, né ricercatore. Piuttosto, mi interrogo su ciò che rappresentano per me.

Istintivamente direi che verità e onestà hanno per me un valore quasi assoluto, guidandomi in ogni decisione, azione o interazione quotidiana. Ma affermarlo sarebbe una bugia. Essere onesto, dire la verità e comportarmi in modo autentico è un’impresa che spesso mi sovrasta. Per me, infatti, l’onestà non si limita a dire la verità a qualcuno, ma implica agire in linea con i miei valori, come suggerisce la definizione riportata all’inizio di questo articolo. Se riesco ad agire in linea con i miei principi morali, allora la questione superficiale del “dire la verità” nemmeno si pone, perché ogni azione sarebbe allineata con il mio autentico io, con l’immagine che ho di me stesso.

Ed è qui che mi trovo in un’impasse: l’immagine che ho di me potrebbe non corrispondere alla verità. Eppure, quella stessa immagine, nel tempo, potrebbe guidarmi verso la verità. Ma anche se, in un dato momento, essa fosse effettivamente in linea con il mio autentico io e con i principi morali che ho scelto come base della mia identità, questo stato non sarebbe altro che temporaneo. Io mi percepisco in continua evoluzione, in costante cambiamento, accompagnando un mondo che viaggia a una velocità incredibile – o forse sono io quello lento… chi lo sa. Che il mondo sia veloce o io lento, alla fine non importa.

Io non credo – nel senso di credere devotamente o indiscutibilmente a qualcosa. Questo mio continuo evolvermi ha consolidato un approccio critico e curioso, che mette in discussione tutto.

La morte, ad esempio, non mi spaventa. Invecchiare non mi infastidisce. Perdere i capelli non mi rende paranoico. La solitudine, cambiare amicizie, ricominciare in una nuova città, traslocare in un altro paese, lasciare tutto per un nuovo inizio: sono cose che ho fatto ripetutamente nella mia vita, a volte per circostanze esterne, altre per decisioni personali.

Nonostante questi cambiamenti continui, i miei principi morali guida sono rimasti più o meno gli stessi. A volte mi hanno guidato con maggiore forza, altre con meno. Ed è strano: mentre scrivo, mi viene in mente un altro concetto, quello di fede. Solo nominarlo sembra contraddire tutto ciò che ho detto prima sul fatto che io non credo.

Ma benché le mie riflessioni su questo e mi molti altri temi mi portino spesso contraddizioni o riflessioni inconcludenti, trovo conforto nella complessità e nell’evoluzione costante del mio rapporto con la verità e l’onestà.

#24 Making space for the silence within

There are moments when my mind shuts down—when no matter how much effort I put into deciding what to do next, my brain simply refuses to respond or act. It doesn’t matter if it’s about preparing the next meal or planning the next big step in my life. My body won’t move. It feels like a meteorological phenomenon inside my soul—a heavy, warm wind pressing down. Sometimes it lasts a few hours; sometimes, it lingers for a couple of days.

I used to resist these moments, seeking shelter in unhealthy ways by blaming myself and feeling resentful. I would desperately try to fill the emptiness with random, unplanned actions that lacked intention or purpose. After all, isn’t that what we’re taught by the outside world? “Brush it off.” “Just do something.”
Often, this overwhelming wind would push me into a deep hole, where solitude and loneliness threatened to consume me.

This weekend, the strong, warm wind came again. However, for some months now, I’ve stopped resisting it. I let it shake me. I let it push me into the hole. And in that quiet, I found myself. I sat in silence, under an imaginary tree, and hugged myself. I whispered, “Don’t worry. No rush. It’s all good. This will pass.” And it did.

I decided to keep caring for myself in my own way—not in the way the world expects me to. My thoughts were scattered, and there was some anxiety, but I allowed it to exist.

I went for a walk. Luckily, the sun was shining—a rare sight in Berlin’s winter skies. Then I went to the sauna, reconnecting with my body and soul. When I returned home, the wind within me had softened into a gentle, pleasant breeze.

#20 Globalist jackal: is there such a thing?

In the last few decades, thanks especially to the internet and a more globalized world, a segment of Earth’s citizens has progressively benefited from a borderless reality, allowing them to move and establish themselves almost anywhere they desire — a trend exacerbated following the COVID pandemic.

The reasons for such a choice are many, depending on the profession one exercises, a search for better living conditions, a drive to live differently according to rules and cultural norms that better resonate with them, and so forth. This practice has given rise to enticing titles that the privileged among us proudly embrace: globe trotters, digital nomads, expats, remote workers.

In many cases, though, this decision to move somewhere else has been driven by a simple impulse to explore a different corner of the world for a short period of time, only to then move on to another, making this some sort of appealing practice. There are many documentaries available online of influencers, for example, going somewhere like India only to criticize the way other cultures live and leave with a pros and cons list to share with their audience, disregarding the long-term consequences of their actions.

Lately, I have been reflecting on whether this last category of professionals who wander around the globe deserves a more specific title with a connotation that fits this type of mindset.

Today, we are more aware that the privilege of some comes at the expense of others, often decreasing the quality of life for local communities. Perhaps we’ve always known this, but we are now more mature and collectively prepared to take responsibility for our actions. Despite this, no term has been coined to properly define this category of nomads. This has led me to question whether a more nuanced vocabulary might better highlight the less glamorous consequences of some people who take advantage of global professional mobility. One term I’ve been pondering is globalist jackals.

The existing terms are usually associated with the appealing aspects of global mobility: cultural depth fostered by living in different parts of the world; the boost to economies through spending power and new businesses in areas with lower living costs; the flexibility of work environments; and inclusivity. These and many other aspects have served as catalysts for global change and innovation.

Unfortunately, there is another side to the coin.

What I would call globalist jackals, in particular, drive up living costs in the areas where they relocate. Their demand for short-term rentals reduces housing availability for residents. They displace communities, contributing to over-tourism, disrupting local cultures, and eroding traditional ways of life, leaving some communities feeling exploited or undervalued.

Moreover, individuals benefiting from global mobility who genuinely wish to integrate and adapt to local customs may face misjudgment or unjust accusations, being lumped together with those who move on to their next destination without meaningful interaction or pondering their choices with reasons beyond the drive to “discover the world.”

Legal gray areas are created and exploited by individuals with selfish intentions, with little to no regard for local community needs. For example, it’s known that governments struggle to tax digital nomads who earn abroad while utilizing local resources, even though this varies greatly by country and specific tax treaties.

It has also been reported that what I would define as globalist jackals exacerbate inequalities, widening the gap between those with access to technology, education, and global mobility versus those without.

While there are many other factors that could justify coining the term globalist jackals, it’s crucial to recognize the dangers of using such pejorative terms indiscriminately. Doing so risks fueling discriminatory and even racist narratives.

The debate around the terminology we use to describe global professionals underscores the need for accountability and awareness in a world where profiting from mobility by choice, and not by survival-oriented need or duty, is both a privilege and a responsibility. As global citizens, we must understand what impact our ambitions have on others, acknowledging that consequences may take time to arise and often unfold in unpredictable ways.

This is a speculative and reductive take on a much broader and more complex topic, one that has been researched and discussed in much greater depth. So, please take my perspective with a grain of salt. I am curious to hear your thoughts. Have you previously reflected on this topic, specifically the glamorous terminology used to define this trend? Does the term globalist jackal make sense? What other terms would you suggest for discussing this phenomenon?

#18 A compass for the year ahead that works

I initially wanted to write yet another 2024 wrap-up, which would have most likely turned into a me-me-me redundant post filled with complaints about my “almosts” and “not yets” from the past year. Instead, I prefer to share something that brought clarity to previous years and became a reliable tool for a hopeful start to each new year.

Nowadays, we receive end-of-year wrap-ups and new year’s resolutions updates from almost every app on our phones. This barrage can make reflecting on recent experiences and planning ahead feel overwhelming. However, cutting through the noise to find a tool that truly works for us can transform these reflections into powerful and inspiring activities.

For the last four years, my go-to tool has been a booklet called Year Compass (which you can download entirely free here).

I was first introduced to it by my ex-girlfriend. We began filling out our respective booklets together at her parents’ chalet-style home in Brussels, sitting in front of a rattling fireplace as snowflakes fell like tiny meteorites, driven by a strong and gelid wind. Despite this picturesque, almost dreamlike setting, my first experience was painful. It took me at least three hours to complete the entire Year Compass, as it required deep reflection across all the major spheres of life.

Each year, though, the process became easier, and its effectiveness grew to the point where I can’t imagine starting a new year without it.

So, for anyone seeking a way to process their experiences, integrate the past year with a sense of accomplishment and closure, and face 2025 with renewed hope and confidence, I highly recommend filling out this amazing and completely free tool. You can download it easily, and it’s best to complete it before the new year begins—or at the latest, within the first two weeks of January.