The Dimensions of Light and the Infinite Journey

In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a land torn apart by decades of conflict, violence, and profound injustice, Espoir lay there, by then consumed by illness. Around him remained only a few of his loved ones, those whom war and adversity had spared. Their faces were marked by suffering, yet in their eyes there still remained something that no war had managed to destroy: Love.

Espoir breathed slowly. Each breath seemed more difficult than the one before. Multiple myeloma had consumed his body, progressively depriving him of his strength. And yet, within him, something seemed strangely peaceful.

He looked at his family.

“Do not cry.”

His mother squeezed his hand.

“How can we not cry?”

Espoir smiled weakly.

“Because we will see each other again.”

“When?”

The young man remained silent for a few moments, as if searching within his mind for an answer that could be understood by those who still lived within time.

“Soon. Much sooner than you can imagine. The time we have on Earth seems enormous while we are living it… but in Eternity, it is nothing more than the blink of an eye. It is like a grain of sand in the Sahara Desert. We struggle for that grain, often even wasting it… without realizing that the desert is infinite.”

A tear rolled down his mother’s face.

Espoir continued:

“Do not be afraid for me. I have suffered, yes. And I would have wished that no one ever had to suffer as I did. But perhaps this very suffering taught me something that otherwise I would never have understood.”

In recent years, the young man had watched the world deteriorate in many places: wars, persecutions, hunger, corruption, hatred, untreated diseases, children deprived of their childhood, and people forced to flee their own lands.

He had often even thought about how absurd it was that humanity possessed knowledge capable of saving lives and, at the same time, allowed millions of people to die because they lacked diagnostic resources, medicines, healthcare facilities, and adequate treatment.

It was not illness itself that was unjust, but inequality.

Where the means to heal the body were lacking, it became even more difficult to cultivate serenity of the soul; and where war, hatred, fear, and oppression prevailed, the Virtues seemed to find no ground in which to take root.

At a certain point, Espoir closed his eyes, and his final breath was almost imperceptible.

Suddenly, the young man had the sensation of becoming incredibly light. He no longer felt pain, nor did he feel the weight of those bones so eroded by illness; it was as though something had gently freed him from matter.

Then he opened his eyes, and before him he saw his entire earthly life unfold.

He saw his childhood, the faces of his parents, his homeland. He saw again the happy days and the painful ones, the people he had met, the words he had spoken, those he had left unspoken, the opportunities he had lost, the acts of kindness he had performed almost without realizing it.

Yet he also saw his own faults and understood them, experiencing an inner pain.

Every action appeared in its true nature, free from the justifications with which human beings often cover their choices.

He saw the pain he had caused and the pain he had alleviated. He saw the times when he had chosen Good despite it being more difficult, and he understood that nothing had truly disappeared: every action had left a trace.

The journey continued, and the Earth became smaller and smaller.

He saw continents, oceans, mountains, cities, forests; places he had never visited and others he knew only through stories and images.

Then he saw something he could never have imagined: above the material world there seemed to exist other regions of existence—not simply places farther away, but dimensions, levels, states of being.

Each time he crossed a new threshold, perception became subtler, brighter, vaster, and with it he too seemed to transform.

Suffering no longer existed, and a wondrous Light enveloped him.

It was not a light that came from a sun; it seemed to arise everywhere, even within him.

It filled him with a Peace so profound that, for the first time, Espoir understood how incomplete every earthly definition of happiness had been.

At a certain point, the journey came to a halt.

Before him appeared a world that was not Earth: immense green and flowering expanses stretched to the horizon; trees of unknown forms moved gently beneath a breeze that seemed to possess its own music; crystalline rivers crossed immense plains, and animals of species he had never seen lived alongside one another without fear.

There was no waste, no pollution, no destruction.

The flora and fauna did not struggle for survival as they did on Earth, but seemed to participate in the same harmony.

Espoir stood motionless.

“Where am I?”

A voice answered behind him.

“Home.”

Espoir turned around.

From a distance, a figure more than two meters tall was approaching.

His skin was blue, luminous, and uniform. His hair was white, with almost golden, yellowish reflections, and seemed to emit a faint light of its own. His face was serene, with a magnificent smile.

Espoir looked at him in astonishment.

The figure extended his hand toward him.

“Espoir. Welcome to your new dimension.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Orthon.”

“You are… an angel?”

Orthon smiled.

“That is how you on Earth would define what I am. I have been your Guide. I accompanied, inspired, and protected you within the limits permitted by your path.”

Espoir lowered his gaze.

“Then you were with me even when I could not see you?”

“Much more often than you can imagine.”

Espoir looked at that world once again.

“It is enchanting. I never thought something like this could exist.”

“There exists much more than your earthly mind could ever have conceived.”

“Am I dead?”

Orthon remained silent for a moment.

“Your body is dead. You are not.”

Espoir breathed deeply, even though he no longer needed to breathe.

“And why am I here?”

“Because your journey on Earth has ended.”

“And now?”

“Now another journey begins.”

Orthon began to walk.

Espoir followed him.

“You see this dimension?” the Guide said.

“Yes.”

“It is not the highest.”

Espoir stopped.

“It isn’t?”

Orthon smiled.

“No. It is simply the one that, at this moment, corresponds most closely to what you have become.”

“So there are other dimensions?”

“Infinite.”

Espoir looked at the sky.

“Truly infinite?”

“Perhaps ‘infinite’ is still too small a word.”

The Guide raised a hand. The sky changed, and Espoir saw other worlds appearing in the distance.

Some were similar to theirs, while others were completely different.

He saw dimensions where matter seemed almost nonexistent, regions made of light and forms he could not comprehend, worlds in which souls seemed to assume different configurations, not necessarily anthropomorphic, places where consciousness appeared to manifest itself through colors, sounds, geometries, and vibrations.

“The Creator did not construct only one way of existing,” Orthon explained. “He made the Universe more varied than anyone could imagine. Every world, every dimension, every region of existence may possess different laws, forms, and levels of awareness, many of which have understood and aligned themselves with the Order of the Supreme Good.”

“And why is Earth so different?”

Orthon looked at him.

“Because Earth is a school.”

“A school?”

“One of the hardest.”

Espoir lowered his eyes.

“Now I understand.”

“On Earth, the soul is placed before conditions that continually test what it is. Freedom, pain, loss, wealth, poverty, illness, power, love, hatred, fear… everything can become a test.”

“Even suffering?”

“Yes.”

“But then does that mean that every suffering is chosen?”

Orthon slowly shook his head.

“Do not simplify something that is far more complex. Not all suffering is directly chosen by the soul, because some of it is the consequence of one’s own actions, and no suffering should ever be used as a justification for the evil committed by human beings. Real injustices, real violence, and real responsibilities exist.”

Espoir looked at him attentively.

“Then what did you mean?”

“Before the earthly experience, some souls may accept certain difficult conditions because they believe they may contribute to their own growth. But once they are born on Earth, they do not necessarily remember that choice. And it is precisely this forgetfulness that makes the test of freedom authentic.”

Espoir remained silent for a long time.

“So even my illness…”

Orthon did not answer immediately.

“Your illness was not a punishment.”

Those words seemed to release something within Espoir.

“Then why? Perhaps it was meant to elevate me more and more.”

“In your case, yes. However, not every answer is given immediately. Some encompass the entire journey of a soul, while others are connected to experiences that only a higher consciousness can understand.”

“You know everything?”

Orthon smiled.

“No.”

Espoir seemed surprised.

“You are my Guide and you do not know everything?”

“To know much does not mean to know everything. We, too, belong to a journey. There are regions of existence that even I have not crossed. There are mysteries belonging to dimensions so elevated that any understanding I might have of them would still be incomplete.”

“So you are learning too.”

“Yes.”

“That comforts me.”

Orthon laughed softly.

“Why?”

“Because on Earth I thought that knowledge meant reaching the point of knowing everything once we arrived in another dimension.”

“And instead?”

“Now I understand that true knowledge might be knowing how much we still do not know. Always continually becoming, in fieri.”

Orthon nodded.

“This is one of the first things souls learn when they begin to ascend.”

They walked on.

“But if higher beings capable of reaching higher dimensions exist, why do they not always intervene on Earth?”

Orthon became more serious.

“Because helping does not necessarily mean preventing every negative event.”

“I do not understand.”

“Imagine a soul that must make a choice. If we intervened continuously in its place, we would take away precisely what it must learn: True Freedom.”

“And yet there are people who die without ever having had a chance.”

“It is true.”

“There are children who die in wars, people who suffer from treatable diseases but have no access to treatment, entire peoples who are destroyed.”

“I know.”

“And you watch?”

Orthon looked directly into his eyes.

“We do not watch with indifference. But spiritual intervention cannot completely erase the consequences of the choices made by creatures endowed with free will.”

Espoir lowered his head.

“And when a soul is completely surrounded by darkness?”

“The Light does not cease to exist.”

“But can it reject it?”

“It can reject it for a long time. It can close itself off. It can identify itself so completely with hatred, violence, and the thirst for power that it no longer recognizes the Light when it appears before it.”

“And then is it abandoned?”

“Never permanently. But there are paths in which the soul must experience profound consequences before it can once again desire the Light.”

“Can even those souls rise again?”

“The possibility of redemption is not erased lightly.”

Espoir remained thoughtful.

“Then evil is not eternal.”

“Evil may seem eternal to those who live through it. But the Light is Perfect and Eternal.”

Suddenly, the landscape changed.

Espoir saw Earth, but not as he had seen it during his life. He saw it from above.

He saw its magnificent forests, oceans, deserts, and mountains.

Then Orthon revealed what lay behind appearances.

Espoir saw wars being prepared in rooms of power, men discussing territories, resources, oil, gold, gas, and economic interests while entire populations were reduced to numbers.

He saw corruption, governments bowing before stronger powers, secret agreements, propaganda, populations deliberately driven against other populations.

He saw racism being fueled because hatred makes it easier to govern, children growing up learning to fear someone they had never even met.

He also saw forests destroyed, rivers contaminated, lands impoverished, seas suffocating.

He saw money becoming an idol.

And above all, he saw something that deeply affected him: he saw how little was necessary to make a human being happy—namely, a home, food, a family, a little security, someone to love, an opportunity to study, and access to healthcare.

And yet millions of people were deprived even of all of this.

“Why?” Espoir asked.

Orthon did not look away.

“Because many earthly souls have confused the value of existence with possession.”

“Money?”

“Money is a ruthless instrument, which humans have transformed into an idol, into a measure of human worth.”

Espoir saw immense wealth accumulated by a few.

“And these people do not understand?”

“Very few truly understand. Others do not want to understand.”

“Why?”

“Because power can become a prison stronger than poverty.”

Espoir continued to observe.

“And ordinary people?”

“Many live inside a reality constructed for them. They chase images, status, possessions, approval. They believe that freedom consists in always having something more.”

“And instead?”

“Freedom also consists in being able to live without being slaves to what one possesses.”

Espoir smiled bitterly.

“On Earth, I had sensed that.”

“And indeed, that is one of the reasons you are here.”

Orthon then caused a different image to appear.

Espoir saw people helping one another: a doctor treating a sick person without asking anything in return, a man sharing his bread, a woman protecting a child who was not her own, a young man risking his life to save a stranger, a teacher continuing to teach despite poverty, an elderly person forgiving, a mother praying, a child smiling despite having almost nothing.

“Look.”

Espoir watched.

“Good still exists.”

“Good has never ceased to exist.”

“But then why does it seem so fragile?”

“Because evil makes noise. Good very often works in silence, without needing to boast.”

Espoir was moved.

“And me?”

“You chose Good many times when no one forced you to do so.”

“I did not feel special.”

“You did not need to.”

“And this brought me here?”

“Your deeds, your knowledge of Good, the Virtues you sought to practice, the resilience with which you endured suffering… all of this contributed to your evolution.”

Orthon pointed toward the dimension in which they stood.

“Your consciousness could not have remained in a dimension dominated exclusively by lower impulses. You would have continued to suffer because you were no longer in harmony with it.”

Espoir looked at the landscape again.

“So Paradise is not a reward.”

Orthon smiled.

“It is a consequence.”

“Of what?”

“Of what you have become.”

“And now I will ascend further?”

“If you continue to grow.”

“And when will it end?”

Orthon looked at the sky.

“I do not know.”

“You do not know?”

“None of us knows the entire journey.”

“Not even those who are far more elevated than you?”

“Perhaps they know what remains hidden from us. But even they are part of something infinitely greater.”

“And the Creator?”

Orthon smiled.

“The Creator is not simply a peak to reach, as one reaches the summit of a mountain.”

“Then Who is He?”

“A Reality that the more you know, the more you understand that you cannot completely contain.”

Espoir remained silent.

“So does the soul ascend forever?”

“Perhaps it ascends, perhaps it transforms, perhaps it enters forms of existence for which you do not even possess the words to describe today. The journey of the soul and spirit is a progressive mystery.”

“And what must I do now?”

Orthon extended his hand toward him once again.

“Learn.”

“Again?”

“Always.”

Espoir smiled.

“Then death was not the end of a journey.”

“No.”

Espoir clasped Orthon’s hand, and Earth appeared very far away, beautiful yet wounded. A planet capable of producing some of the worst atrocities and, at the same time, some of the most sublime acts.

Espoir looked at it with a new awareness.

“Orthon.”

“Yes?”

“Will I be able to return one day?”

The Guide smiled.

“If your spirit reaches the necessary strength, you will be able to descend.”

“To help?”

“To help. Unless the planet soon evolves toward a higher dimension. Many have spoken, and continue to speak, of a New Golden Age.”

“Let us hope it happens as soon as possible. And can I return even to the lower dimensions?”

“It depends on whether your soul and spirit are capable of enduring them. It depends on the dimensions and their degree of evolution.”

“Without being afraid?”

“Fear will never be able to dwell within you again.”

Espoir turned toward him.

Orthon smiled.

“Espoir, on Earth, courage means above all choosing the Light even when the darkness seems greater.”

The young man remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he smiled.

“Anyway, I want to learn.”

Orthon began to walk.

“You will.”

The two slowly disappeared along the luminous path, while behind them the paradisiacal world continued to live in perfect harmony.

Much farther away, beyond that dimension, beyond those Espoir would come to know, and beyond those that Orthon himself had not yet crossed, the Universe continued to unfold.

Dimension after dimension, mystery after mystery, Light upon Light.

Meanwhile, somewhere, beyond all understanding, the Creator continued to contemplate the journey of His creatures, allowing every soul, every spirit, to follow its own path toward that perfection which no one, not even the most elevated beings, could yet completely comprehend.

Because perhaps Eternity does not consist in arriving, but in continuing to become.

Hell is here on Earth and has the innocent face of those who did not choose to be born there

What wrong has a boy or a girl done to come into the world and find themselves immersed in a reality that resembles a nightmare more than a promise? This question is not rhetorical—it is an open wound. When people think of hell, they often imagine it as a distant, otherworldly place, almost surreal. But it is enough to look honestly at what happens every day on this Earth to realise that there is also an inner, earthly hell—real, tangible—that does not need eternal fire to burn: indifference, cruelty, hatred, and human selfishness are enough.

Hell is in the children bought and sold like objects in human trafficking networks in Southeast Asia—Cambodia, Myanmar, Thailand—their dim eyes having stopped dreaming far too soon. It is in the girls forced into prostitution, deceived, broken, stripped not only of their freedom but also of their identity. It is in the tiny hands of children sewing clothes in suffocating factories in Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, while the world wears those garments without asking where they come from. It is in the lungs of these children who inhale toxic glue to dull hunger, because sometimes the only way to survive is to stop feeling.

Yet hell also descends into the depths of the earth, into cobalt mines in the Democratic Republic of the Congo or diamond mines in Sierra Leone, where young lives are consumed by dust and danger to extract materials that fuel the technological progress and materialism of others. It is in the streets of large cities, where children and teenagers grow up without a home, without school, without anyone to say their name with love, to guide them and care for them. It is in the desperate journeys of migrants, in deserts that swallow hope and in seas that become silent graves.

And again, it is in skies torn apart by bombings, in cities reduced to rubble in places like Palestine or Ukraine, where war is not a headline but a daily reality made of fear and loss—something we should never accept as normal. It is in violated bodies in forgotten wars, where rape becomes a weapon and humanity dissolves, as happens in Sudan and elsewhere. It is in the prisons of authoritarian regimes, where dissent is punished with torture and enforced silence.

However, hell is also quieter, but no less devastating. It is in drug addiction that traps young lives with no escape, in communities destroyed by the trafficking of weapons and substances that fuel seemingly endless cycles of violence. It is in overcrowded refugee camps, where entire generations grow up suspended, without a future. It is in famines, where hunger is not a feeling but a sentence. It is in homes submerged by water, in destroyed crops, in families forced to leave everything behind because environmental and/or political climates change faster than our ability to respond.

It is in the persecution of minorities, in planned genocides, in lives erased for being “different.” It is in the normalization of all this, in our ability to read, scroll, and forget. I also ask forgiveness if I have not been able to clearly mention other horrific examples (though it would likely take days to read a complete list).

So the question returns, stronger than before: how can we go on like this? How can a planet so extraordinary—rich in beauty, biodiversity, and possibility—also be the stage for so much suffering inflicted by humans upon other humans? The contradiction is tearing. The same human beings capable of creating art, science, and love are also capable of destroying, exploiting, and annihilating.

And yet, stopping at horror alone would be another form of surrender. Recognizing hell must not mean accepting it as inevitable, but becoming aware of it in order to choose not to be complicit. Every time we ignore, justify, or feel too small to make a difference, we contribute—even unintentionally—to keeping it alive.

The hardest but most necessary lesson is this: evil thrives in the absence of responsibility. We do not need to be heroes to change the world, but we must stop being passive spectators. Becoming informed, speaking out, making conscious choices, showing respect, educating, helping when possible—these may seem like small acts, but they are cracks in the system of indifference.

Children should play, study, be carefree, and grow in Virtue and Wisdom. And if this does not happen, it is not because the world is inevitably cruel, but because we have not yet done enough to make it different.

Therefore, I believe that hell on Earth exists, but it is not a final condemnation. It is a constructed and orchestrated reality, and, precisely for that reason, it can be dismantled, piece by piece. The question then changes: no longer “what wrong has that child done?” but “what are we willing to do, today, so that they no longer have to suffer like this?”

Java and Sicily: two islands, one soul

 

Andrea and Irwan are two friends who met in Indonesia, specifically in the western part of Java, and both of their names reflect their nobility of spirit and their courage. However, Andrea is a young Italian recent graduate originally from Sicily, an island in the Mediterranean, who decides to venture into other countries far from his homeland, now weary of the excessive worldliness and the moral decadence typical of many “Western countries,” which for decades have begun to distort even Sicilian youth.

Yet Sicily in the past has always been a crossroads of cultures that produced a grand fusion of architectural, linguistic, genetic, and culinary elements.

On the splendid island of Java, he began his work and volunteer activities, rediscovering himself in serving others and in creating deep connections with the local people, especially with the Sundanese ethnic group, to which Irwan belongs. Andrea meets him during an excursion to Cukang Taneuh, a marvellous canyon, characterised by emerald-coloured waters and dense tropical vegetation.

Over time the two come to know each other better, and Irwan, who is in love with Italy, learns through Andrea several things about the beautiful island, which he then decides to visit together with his Sicilian friend.

One late-summer afternoon the two friends find themselves on one of the beaches of southern Sicily and, while waiting for the sunset and the contemplation of the stars, they begin to retrace their adventures on these two splendid islands.

“Andrea, I never imagined that the Mediterranean held such a wonderful jewel! You know, I have always loved traveling, but it is not easy for us… Obtaining a visa is something difficult and very restrictive.”

“Irwan, you are right, and I would add that there should not be differences between nations. There are no first-class or second-class countries, none better than others, because our diversity is what makes us special. Yet it is within this diversity that we must find Unity, the feeling of being like a Great Universal Family, with equal opportunities, dignity, and an inner, spiritual aspect, if we wish to understand it that way. I am sure that a day will come when we will be able to travel without restrictions, not only here on Earth but even toward other worlds… I almost have the impression that we are confined to this planet as some of the worst beings in the Universe… Who would wage war against his own brother or sister for a piece of land, for natural resources, for money or, worse, out of hatred? But that Golden Age will come, and then we will be happy again, living in Love, Peace, and Justice.”

“I would not want to delude myself too much, because this Earth actually has so many wonders that we often fail to realise it. In fact, we are destroying all the beauties of creation and the works of past civilisations. I would never have imagined visiting Sicily, and with you I have been able to discover wonderful places.”

“You are right, we must give value to the precious things we have before it is too late, before we lose them forever because of our destructive madness. Anyway, tell me what you liked the most! I am truly curious!”

“The Greco-Roman culture that has left an indelible mark on this island. The Ancient-Greek temples of Agrigento, the Ancient-Greek theatres of Taormina, Catania, and Syracuse, the Roman Villa del Casale in Piazza Armerina, the Roman baths of Catania…”

“Truly wonderful, and you know how much I love classical Greco-Roman culture! You just reminded me of the splendid temples of Borobudur and Prambanan in magnificent Java! You see, both of our islands are characterised by a blending of elements from various cultures, religions, and civilisations…”

“And not to mention Mount Etna, immense and majestic, rising almost like the king of this island. I cannot imagine how beautiful it must be to see it in winter covered in snow. Then Stromboli, Vulcano and the other Aeolian islets, then the Egadi Islands, Pantelleria… what a marvel!”

“In fact, Java also boasts several volcanoes that I have had the chance to see and from which I could observe breathtaking landscapes: Bromo and Semeru, for example! Even this volcanic aspect, let’s call it that, brings us together hahaha.”

“Hahaha, that’s true! I had not thought of that! In our diversity and in our spatial and temporal distance we can still find elements in common! And then there are our beautiful beaches, like the one we are on now. Rediscovering nature is something many people have lost, immersed in the worries and anxieties of everyday life, emptied of their deepest feelings, often devoted to exhausting work and very little to personal affections and to their own souls…”

“You are right, Irwan, and that is why I wanted to escape from that chaotic environment, even though I missed my beloved homeland. Now I am here, but soon we will leave again and I already know that I will miss it. Every place that I associate with my youth takes me back and makes me relive intense emotions. Not that I do not feel them in wonderful Java, but it is somewhat the destiny of the human being: a wandering traveler who seeks to rediscover himself first of all, almost driven by a sense of dissatisfaction. Even more so in these recent times, so tumultuous and decadent, in which most people here tend to be superficial and lacking in empathy.”

“Andrea, it is true, and even true and virtuous friendships are difficult to find nowadays… I feel so fortunate to have met you, to have a few best friends but loyal ones.”

“Virtuous—you said it well! You reminded me of Cicero and his work dedicated to the theme of friendship. His words echo in my heart, especially when I find sincere and deep friendships. For this great philosopher, true friendship is born from Virtue; it is a natural good, it never asks for unjust actions, and it is based on loyalty and mutual esteem. May ours last forever, even beyond this earthly dimension. As the saying goes, he who finds a friend finds a treasure.”

“True, what a beautiful expression! I hope so too. Thank you for not having prejudices about me.”

“Irwan, I love to look into hearts, into the soul, through actions, the way one behaves, words, and much more! You and your wonderful Indonesian people have an extraordinary depth of spirit: you are respectful, loving, wise, and welcoming. I truly feel at home with you, at ease. I already know that I will miss this experience when I will probably have to go elsewhere in the world.”

“You Sicilians are also very empathetic and friendly! And imagine if we could move around more easily and quickly… it would be wonderful, Andrea!”

“It will happen, I feel it…”

“I hope… Anyway, what a wonderful sunset! I will carry beautiful memories of this journey, besides the kilos I gained here thanks to your delicious Sicilian and Italian cuisine hahaha.”

“Hahaha, you are right. Other friends who visited Sicily told me the same thing. But do not worry, we will try to recreate something once we are back in Java. Besides, your cuisine is also truly delicious. Rice is present in both: between nasi goreng and arancini, hahaha.”

“Hahaha, true, you are right. They are delicious! Actually, speaking of that, we should start thinking about what to prepare for dinner tonight—but in the meantime let us begin to admire the first stars that are appearing.”

The two friends continued spending time on that beach, contemplating the sky and the stars and enjoying their outer and inner peace.

Both journeys and the discoveries of their respective islands were a source of cultural and spiritual enrichment, because what truly characterises all those souls that vibrate on the same wavelength is the creation of connections, of deep unions that transcend space and time, that bring forth Peace, Equality, Love, Justice, and Righteousness. It does not matter how few such cases may seem, because the Universal Order will sooner or later manifest itself on this Earth as well, and then there will be no more inequalities, chaos, hatred, wars, destruction, or vice.

The Light of the Fergana Valley

The Fergana Valley is a paradisiacal and flourishing region where flora, fauna, and human beings have always established a deep connection. It was a Golden Age that, unfortunately, slowly began to fade over time, until the difficult days when the tyrant Qorong'i attempted to besiege this splendid land, trying to transform it into a realm of terror, destruction, exploitation, and servitude.

The people of Fergana, a people ancestrally free, are now held under siege and constant threat. Unfortunately, the evil nature of this character was not evident at first. He presented himself as a savior, cloaking his true diabolical purpose under deceptive promises. In his expansionist ambitions, he always justified his conquests as necessary acts meant to bring progress, development, order, peace, and justice.

However, a group of young friends occasionally tries to escape the oppression of the wicked Qorong'i, retreating to a cabin in the forest to spend time together, devoting themselves above all to what the despot had forbidden: reading books, meditating, praying, and practicing other arts such as painting, writing, and music.

“Sardor, my friend, here you are! We were waiting for you!” says Jasur.

“Nurlan, Jasur, Zarina, and Meerim, please forgive me. Unfortunately, I had a setback… Qorong'i’s guards stopped me and asked several questions about where I was going and what I was doing.”

“This situation is truly unbearable. How long will we go on like this? We were born as a free, virtuous, respectful, and creative people, but at this rate we are emptying ourselves of what is truly precious: our soul, our spirit, our values, our virtues.”

“Zarina, you are absolutely right. Yet many seem intimidated, while others remain lukewarm because this destructive progress suits them: a world where everything is contaminated and polluted, where a false peace is guided by warnings of war, genocides, and devastating weapons. Behind the real interests of Qorong'i and others like him there is no desire for Peace, Freedom, Justice, Love, and Virtue, but only cravings for power, territorial expansion, and the conquest of resources that, moreover, poison the very earth itself. And the most serious thing is that, in order to strengthen surveillance over each of us, he would like to deprive us of the deepest freedom he still does not possess: that of our soul and our mind, the freedom to make choices. He wants to control every individual through microchips. And that would mean that even these meetings would no longer be possible… and that it would truly be like living in hell on this Earth.”

“No, please, Nurlan, that would be terrible! At the mere thought of it I could not even bear to continue living here!” adds Meerim.

“We must then awaken consciences, because our compatriots do not truly know the real consequences of this tyranny! He has attacked other peoples by presenting himself as a savior sent from heaven, but he has done nothing but follow a program based on a false order, a false well-being, and a false peace. If a territory is rich in gems and gold, he might claim that certain ethnic groups must be freed from the chains of ignorance; if another is rich in oil and natural gas, then their leaders suddenly become agents of evil and must be eradicated. It is always the same red thread that connects his misdeeds. But the most serious thing is that the rest of the peoples allow it! They seem asleep, blinded, deaf and blind, or lukewarm, or even worse, satisfied with this diabolical progress that aims at destruction rather than respect for life and virtues.”

“It is true, Zarina, I agree with you. But, my dear friends, we must ensure that we fight with our victorious weapons—weapons that shed no blood but spread Truth, Justice, Peace, Love, and other Virtues: the use of wisdom, writing, and the arts. We must denounce, at first subtly and in a silent and disguised way. The more souls become conscious, the more we will be able to create unions of hearts, deep connections, as if we were one single being, to drive tyranny and darkness away from our wonderful Valley,” says Jasur.

“How much pain I feel, my friends, when I see our Valley increasingly contaminated by waste, dangerous substances, and radioactive materials used above all for his diabolical weapons. All the fruits that the land and water once offered are now polluted, or even diminished, if not completely absent. Because of the destructive form of modernism promoted by Qorong'i and his companions continuing to advance, we will have fewer and fewer resources to live on, and we will soon be destined for self-annihilation.”

“Meerim, and you my other dear friends, we cannot allow this, because this Earth is a gentle concession from our Creator. We cannot remain indifferent. Actions are important, especially when they put our ideals into practice. For this reason, I would begin to seek peaceful solutions that can shake consciences and souls. In a world filled with dense darkness, we can be those small flames that, by joining and spreading, can create an immensely powerful Light!” adds Nurlan.

“Antigone, heroine of Sophocles’ famous tragedy, said that ‘we are born to share love, not hatred.’ And that is why our actions will be guided by noble values, to restore our Valley of Fergana to the splendor it once had, when the meadows were in bloom, the earth spontaneously produced everything we needed, and the waters of the streams were crystal clear and wholesome.”

“Dear Meerim,” Zarina intervenes, “I would also add what Sappho wrote in one of her poems: ‘Some say that the most beautiful thing on the dark earth is an army of horsemen, others of infantry, others of ships; I say: it is whatever one loves.’ And what we love is the desire for Peace, Truth, Freedom, Love, and Justice.”

“Well said, Zarina. Then let us try to denounce, spread the hidden truths, and awaken our other compatriots, our brothers and sisters. ‘It is not that we have little time, but that we waste much of it,’ as Seneca would say. Time is precious, and every single moment can be crucial, not only through our prayers or inner virtues, but also through good actions. Imagine how much remorse we would feel one day when we leave this earthly dimension if we had wasted much of our time on futile or even destructive things. Virtue calls us, because without it nature, flora, fauna, and all human beings would suffer… ‘Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Necessity hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be virtuous,’ Marcus Aurelius would say,” says Sardor.

Small actions, driven by noble intentions, gradually began to awaken consciences and create new connections, new unions of hearts. And it is known: where Love, Peace, and Justice reign, there is no place for hatred, chaos, or agents of evil like Qorong'i.

The Fergana Valley and its inhabitants will soon find themselves reliving the wonderful Golden Age, for the defeat of evil is imminent.

A love between two wars

In the southern part of the Gaza Strip there is a camp for refugees and volunteers, where many orphaned children and other civilians left disabled by the ongoing genocide find, for an uncertain time, a fragile refuge—a semblance of safety. After all, it is well known: in Gaza no place is ever truly safe, and poor Palestinians live constantly aware that they will hardly be able to have a stable home, at least for now. This has been the case for many, many years.

In this camp works a 22-year-old Palestinian girl named Ayah. A name her mother gave her because, after years of hardships and suffering—caused above all by the violence and oppression that mark that land—her birth represented hope, a gift. Ayah carries out her service with zeal and burning love, assisting those in need together with other volunteers, some of whom come from abroad.

It is here that she meets Mohammed, a 25-year-old Sudanese man. Forced to flee Sudan because of the war and the ongoing genocide, he crossed kilometers of desert and inhospitable lands before reaching the southern part of the Strip, even before Ayah’s arrival. Mohammed has lost everything, especially his family. With nothing left to lose, he pushed himself to that place, unaware that he would once again find himself caught up in another war—if one can even call it that. Perhaps, once again, it would be more accurate to call it genocide.

Working side by side, the two form a strong friendship that, over the months, slowly evolves into something deeper: a pure, silent love, made of respect, glances, and simple gestures.

One day Mohammed decides to head toward the beach to admire a sunset that appears magnificent, coloring the sky in shades of pink and purple.

“This Mediterranean beach is truly stunning,” he thinks to himself.
“It reminds me so much of the afternoons spent along the riverbanks, with my closest friends or with my family, contemplating the landscape. If only Allah would allow me to relive, even for just a few minutes, those sweet and light-hearted moments with the people I love…”

Meanwhile, Ayah notices him from afar and approaches, eager to exchange a few words, sensing how absorbed he is in his thoughts.

“Ayah, you’re here?! Please, sit down,” he says, turning toward her.

“Mohammed, I’m sorry to disturb you. I know how important it is for you to carve out moments of silence and reflection.”

“No, really, don’t worry. I’m glad you’re here, you know that,” he replies.

“This sunset is particularly beautiful, with these colors… It’s a pity it’s destined to last only a short time. It’s fleeting, like moments of joy on this Earth, so afflicted by wars, genocides, poverty, and every kind of evil.”

“You’re right, Mohammed,” Ayah replies. “But it is thanks to the resilience that Allah instills in us that we can continue to fight—with the power of love, service, hope, and complete trust in Him. We are here in this camp and, despite past suffering, it is by helping others unconditionally that we find the strength to go on living. Giving ourselves for those who are worse off than us, receiving a smile, a word of comfort… it is these small gestures that elevate our souls.”

“Yes… and you know, I have lost my entire family,” Mohammed says, his voice veiled. “Some were victims of the war, others fled who knows where. May Allah welcome the former and guide and protect the latter.”

“And that is why I feel such deep admiration for you,” Ayah replies.
“Despite everything you have lived through and are still living in this foreign land, your golden heart drives you not to give up and to take care of those children left without parents and of all those wounded in body and soul.”

“Your heart says so much about you as well, Ayah,” Mohammed adds, gently taking her hand.
“I see it in your actions, in your dedication, in your honey-colored eyes… And yet I wonder if one day we will be able to build our lives elsewhere. I would love to continue studying medicine. In Sudan I couldn’t—I had to flee… otherwise I could be even more useful.”

“Don’t say that, Mohammed. What you do has immense value, and Allah knows it. He scrutinizes every one of our actions and knows the good that each person does. Who knows—perhaps one day we will travel to another part of the world… it would be wonderful.”

“That would be truly beautiful. I would love to see snow; I’ve never seen it.”

“We could go to places with snowy landscapes, like Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan…”

“I don’t know them, but I’d love to discover them. Those mountains, those green meadows…”

“And then Indonesia,” Ayah adds with a smile. “An enchanting place. For now, we can only travel with our minds, my dear Mohammed. If only dreams could take shape…”

“In part, they can,” he replies.
“We can be the architects of our destiny and of that of others, through our ideas and our choices. Even the smallest actions, if driven by pure intention, are dear to Allah, and it is He who strengthens and multiplies them.”

“You’re so right. A lot!” Ayah says, gazing at the sky. “Like these wonderful stars.”

“Another sublime creation,” Mohammed murmurs.
“I like to imagine that my loved ones who have left this Earth are now up there—shining stars that guide and protect us. It is this thought that helps me rise above and hope to become like them, if Allah wills it.”

Tears begin to fall down Mohammed’s face. He tries to wipe them away quickly, turning aside.

“My dear Mohammed, do not feel ashamed,” Ayah says gently.
“Being a true man does not mean hiding one’s sensitivity or not crying. It is precisely this depth, along with your courage and your pure heart, that has bound me to you.”

“Ayah, my dear, thank you for your sweet words. I haven’t felt such deep love in a long time—since I was deprived of everything. I know I receive much from this camp, but what I feel for you and with you is not the same. It is something special, something pure.”

“It is feeling loved and respected, being on the same wavelength,” she replies.
“And even though I am poor, afflicted in my soul and full of hope, I feel lucky and rich within. We carry treasures inside us that we will take with us even after this earthly experience. Money, power, fame, and all that is external will be left behind here.”

“Wise words,” Mohammed says.
“In any case, Ayah, what will we do if the army reaches this place? I’ve been thinking about this lately as well. You should flee before that happens.”

“I don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to abandon this community,” Ayah replies.
“We are a family, and we have taken this mission to heart, because that very Unconditional Love—which drives us to give without expecting anything in return—connects us, connects our hearts, our souls, our spirits. Allah will enlighten us; He will show us the way. For now, let us enjoy this beautiful starry sky, as long as we have the chance to contemplate the beauty of Allah’s creation.”

Having said this, they both remained silent for a while, admiring those infinite lights. They did not know what their destiny would be, nor whether some delegate of goodwill would bring True Peace to their tormented lands, with Justice and Righteousness. Yet they were certain that every second lived in service, love, hope, and faith placed in Allah are precious gifts—for all eternity.

 (10/01/2026)

The council of shadows

In a dark, hidden corner of the world, far from the eyes and conscience of humanity, seven agents of evil — Pride, Greed, Lust, Wrath, Envy, Gluttony, and Sloth — gather to discuss the fate of planet Earth.

The air is thick, motionless. Twisted shadows dance along the walls of that timeless hall, while an ominous silence precedes the beginning of the meeting.

“Colleagues,” declares Pride, his voice firm and arrogant, “even on this gloomy night we are here, assembled beyond humanity’s awareness. The time is near: the fulfillment of the prophecies approaches. No one will be able to defeat us. Our forces are powerful, and we have deployed every possible scheme to bring down these silly deluded creatures. Yet it is not enough, and that is why we are gathered here once more.”

“I despise them,” Envy interjects, her gaze filled with malice. “Seeing them rejoice, even for a moment, is unbearable to me. They are still so fortunate: they can experience moments of light, of hope, even something that nourishes their souls.”

Pride smiles — a cold smile.

“And that is precisely what we must erase completely: the idea that there is something eternal, something spiritual within them. What would our mission be for otherwise, if not to defeat the forces of Good and tear away as many souls as possible to our side? They will come to believe that everything ends here, that nothing exists beyond this life. And when they lose hope… they will fall into the deepest abyss.”

A cavernous laughter echoes through the hall.

“You’re right, Pride,” adds Greed, symbolically clutching in his hands what he does not yet possess. “But we must go further. I will accumulate everything: money, precious stones, oil, resources. Everything will be mine. I will leave nothing to those fools. I will make them slaughter one another for a piece of paper, for a fragment of land, for a barrel of crude oil. They are capable of wars and genocides for so little, unaware that soon everything will belong to us.”

“And they are even willing to sell their own bodies,” Lust bursts out laughing. “For money, for pleasure. By remaining prisoners of bodily desires, they forget the soul. Abortions, obscene acts, corruption of bodies and minds — even of children… it is essential to capture them from early childhood.”

Then she turns toward Wrath, who is trembling with rage.

“Still, Wrath, I see you’re about to explode.”

“If it were up to me,” snarls Wrath, “I would wipe them off the face of the Earth. Destruction, suffering, annihilation — that is what I desire. There is only one solution: a world war. Driving them mad until they unleash the most destructive weapons. Erasing them.”

“Calm yourself,” Pride interrupts. “Before the final blow, we must bring as many souls as possible to ruin. We dared to challenge the One who calls Himself Almighty, and we will continue to do so. Even those who pursue Good must fall.”

A new wave of collective laughter spreads through the chamber.

“Let us not forget the mind,” Gluttony interjects, his voice slick and heavy. “Not just the body. APart from food waste, famine and junk food, let us think about drugs, alcohol, and other substances that can destroy especially the brain, dulling them to the point where they become incapable of using reason. Confused and numbed, they will no longer be able to focus on their souls and spirits. And when the mind is clouded and deprived of clarity, every possibility of elevation vanishes. That is when they become ours for good.”

Pride nods.

“Excellent plan, Gluttony. But Sloth… you have remained silent.”

Sloth yawns, bored, with a faint smile.

“You all strive too hard. My method is simpler, and precisely for that reason effective: stealing their time. Wasting it on useless activities, extreme technology, constant distractions, idleness, depression, anxiety. Minutes, hours, days, and years thrown away. Precious time they could use to awaken, to question themselves, to elevate themselves, to do good deeds.”

He pauses, observing the others with an air of superiority.

“And the most amusing thing is that while you exhaust yourselves with your diabolical actions, my plan unfolds anyway. Every war, every addiction, every uncontrolled desire, every clouded mind contributes to keeping them motionless, tired, emptied. Stuck. No great effort is required — it is enough that they remain busy, confused, exhausted. Until they no longer even realise they are losing what is most precious to them. And when time is consumed, so too is the soul.”

“We truly are diabolical,” they all laugh.

“That’s not enough for me,” Envy hisses. “I want to divide them. Slander, distrust, mutual hatred. The more separated they are, the stronger we become.”

“They are fools,” Wrath growls. “They fight their own brothers and sisters for land and resources. Isn’t that right, Greed?”

“You’re right. The times are ripe,” Greed confirms. “The prophecies speak clearly, and those at risk of being lost are the majority. But it is not enough for us. We must want more.”

“They will be our slaves,” Pride concludes. “Microchips, robots, control. No one will be able to stop us.”

“And those who stand on the side of That One? They might hinder us,” Envy asks with contempt.

“They will suffer more,” Pride replies. “Unless they are protected. Unfortunately.”

“But then,” Envy reflects, “we might even make them stronger, more elevated…”

The chamber darkens further.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pride concludes. “We are unstoppable, and you know well that we never cease plotting against That One, His messengers, and His creation. Everything must be ours. We will meet again to devise something even more diabolical.”

The meeting comes to an end.

Aware of the little time remaining, the agents of evil depart, ready to reap as many souls as possible. What they still do not realise, however, is that the hatred and division they fuel will consume them. Soon they will turn against one another, along with their own legions.

For where destruction and discord reign, Love and Harmony cannot exist. And even their power, like every illusion, is destined to fade — especially where humans experience Love, Unity, and Virtue.

(09/01/2026)

The Quiet Wealth of Being

How lucky we are when we learn to see what truly matters. Many of us measure life by labels and momentary pleasures: the right coat, the perfect trip, a seat at an exclusive table. When those things are missing, the complaint is quick and loud. Yet another person—less loud, perhaps—gives thanks for a glass of water, a warm meal, the steady roof above their head, the touch of a friend who cares. These are not small things. They are the scaffolding of a life.

Happiness is relative because our lives are lived here on earth, in time and place, in bodies that need rest and breath. But there is a kind of absolute joy that reaches beyond condition and commodity—call it the Creator’s peace, call it God, call it the deep calm some people find inside. That deeper joy does not depend on fashion, account balances, or applause. It rests in a heart that notices and honors what is simple, true, and sustaining.

Imagine if we taught our eyes to seek beauty not in excess or harm, but in virtue and care. Imagine if the most admired qualities were not wealth and show, but honesty, wisdom, compassion, and humility. Think of how different our choices would be when the beautiful becomes the good. A face grown kind with age, the steady patience of a teacher, the righteous and peaceful governor, the soulful suffering of those who are in need, a landscape that takes our breath and quiets our rush etc.

The everyday gifts are easy to overlook. Water for drinking and washing, food to share, a street that is safe at night—these are miracles when we travel a little and see how many lack them. We are fortunate if our homes are not battlefields, if our days are not shaped by fear. When we live in such a place, gratitude can be a daily discipline. Gratitude trains us to notice, and noticing changes the heart. The small act of saying “thank you” softens the sharpness of complaint and opens us to wonder.

Gratitude becomes courage when it leads us to act. To feel blessed and do nothing is a kind of theft. If we treasure the quiet gifts of life, we owe it to others to widen those gifts’ reach. That work need not be grand to be real. It begins with small, steady acts: sharing what we can, listening when someone needs to speak, refusing gossip that wounds, voting for common good, teaching children to protect what is fragile. One generous hand can set an example; many gentle hands can change a town, a country, a world.

Unity is another kind of beauty. We do not all share the same ethnic group, language, or belief. That difference may frighten or divide us—but it also expands what is possible. When people of different backgrounds gather around shared ideals—fairness, learning, mercy, stewardship—we discover that distinction is not contradiction. It can be a bridge. A world that values the soul’s depth over surface sameness will find ways to listen, to build, and to forgive. This harmony may feel like an impossible dream, but every real change begins as someone’s choice to see beyond immediate comfort.

Our era tempts us toward quick satisfaction and hollow distinction. The lure of brands, the rush of always wanting more, the conversation that centers on what we do not have—these are powerful. Yet they are also fragile. Possessions decay; praise fades. Character quietly endures. To cultivate a life of meaning, we must practice seeing with different eyes. We must teach ourselves to find beauty in honesty, to praise restraint, to celebrate a spirit that seeks Truth over triumph. When beauty and goodness become inseparable, they guide our acts and shape our communities.

Change is a slow miracle. It does not require perfect people—only people willing to grow. Start where you are: choose gratitude this morning for a small thing, then another. Speak gently to someone who feels unseen. Protect what you can: a tree, a neighbor’s safety, a child’s chance to learn. Learn to listen before arguing. Let your work reflect care, not merely profit. These may seem like ordinary choices, but they add up. They teach others how to live.

If we all shifted our view, if we learned to admire virtuous hearts, to protect fragile beauties, to join hands across difference,then the world would not need grand slogans or impossible guarantees to become better. It would become better because ordinary people chose, repeatedly, to be kind, brave, and wise. That is how utopia begins: not as a finished plan, but as a thousand small decisions to value what lasts.

The quiet wealth of being is a house we can build, brick by patient brick. It asks for less show and more presence, less wanting and more giving, less fear and more trust. To change perspective is to change action. To change action is to change the world. If we truly want a life that matters, let us begin by noticing the gifts we already hold, and then using them to open the hands of others.