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 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.

Union of Hearts

 

Dear brothers and sisters,

What we are witnessing today — the planned wars, the planned genocides, the viral spread of hatred and destruction — from Sudan to Palestine and beyond, is something dreadful, diabolical. It is the reflection of humanity when it forgets its divine origin, when love is replaced by greed, hatred, and vice.

We do reject all forms of hatred, war, and violence. We do reject destruction, corruption, pollution, the poisoning of body, soul and spirit, false peace, and every illusion that distances us from Truth. We are — and must remember ourselves to be — a Union of hearts, all contained within the One, all interconnected as if we were a single Being of Pure Peace, Pure Love, Pure Justice, Pure Righteousness, Pure Truth, Pure Freedom, and Pure Virtue.

We are the radiant reflection of our Creator, and to Him we aspire. We are here not by chance but by mission — to serve, to heal, to uplift, and to love.

In fact, Plato once wrote in The Republic that the true ruler must be a philosopher, a lover of wisdom, one who governs not for money, fame, or power, but in humble service to the whole, as our Creator teaches us. The ruler should be the servant of all, not the master. Yet today, too often, we see the opposite: leaders guided by the shadows of greed, ambition, and pride. They build empires of suffering upon the ruins of innocence. This is not the expression of the Creator. This is the echo of the fallen self, the triumph of the “I” over the “We.”

Let us, then, seek a new way — not of dominion, but of communion. Let us return to the heart, to the awareness that each of us is a spark of the Divine Light, a note in the eternal melody of Creation. When hearts unite, when souls merge in Harmony, they form the sweetest of songs — the Song of Heaven, where individuality does not vanish but is fulfilled in Love’s perfect unity.

Let us speak less of “I” and more of “We.” Let our hearts, minds and actions become instruments of Light. Let compassion become our language, justice our song, and peace our shared destiny.

So, when the hearts of humanity beat together, they become one great Heart — the Heart of God — pulsating through the universe, restoring balance, and guiding us home to the Source from which we all came.

We are One. We are Love. We are a Union of Hearts.

(30/10/2025)

The Hidden Heart of Our Earth

“Watch for the Day when the earth will be changed into a different earth and the heavens as well, and all will appear before Allah—the One, the Supreme.” (Qur’an 14:48)

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. The former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.” (Rv 21, 1)

The question of what lies beneath the Earth’s surface has involved our human imagination for millennia. Ancient traditions across cultures imagined subterranean realms inhabited by gods, spirits, or mythical civilisations. The Greeks and Romans spoke of Hades, Hindu cosmology described Patala, early Christians placed Hell beneath the ground, and Buddhism referred to Shamballa as a hidden inner world. These stories provided symbolic and moral frameworks, but they also shaped later speculations that attempted to explain the planet’s physical structure.

By the seventeenth century, such speculations began to take scientific form. As a matter of fact, the English astronomer Edmond Halley proposed in 1692 that Earth might consist of concentric hollow shells with luminous atmospheres inside. He even suggested that these inner spaces could account for phenomena like the Aurora Borealis. Although his hypothesis was quickly challenged, it inspired further discussion. Later, in the eighteenth century, experiments such as the Schiehallion project demonstrated that Earth’s mean density was far too high for a hollow model, confirming that the planet’s mass is concentrated in its interior. These early falsifications illustrate how science progresses: bold conjectures are welcomed, but they must withstand rigorous testing.

Despite being scientifically refuted, the Hollow Earth idea never disappeared. In the nineteenth century, figures like John Symmes revived it, arguing that vast inner worlds existed, accessible through openings at the poles. Symmes promoted his vision of a lush inner Earth to the public, gaining attention but little acceptance in the scientific community. Literature embraced the theme, however, with works such as Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth and Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Pellucidar offering vivid adventures in imagined subterranean landscapes. Fiction allowed the idea to survive where science had moved on.

In modern times, Hollow Earth narratives appear in alternative science and metaphysical writings. The Italian astrophysicist and geophysicist Giuliana Conforto, for example, advances a highly original interpretation centered on the presence of a vast crystalline structure at the Earth’s core. According to her view, this crystal has a radius of approximately 1,200 kilometers and lies around 5,000 kilometers beneath our feet. It is not passive matter but a dynamic entity, exhibiting an unusual autonomy from known physical laws. Conforto suggests that this immense crystal is responsible for generating Earth’s magnetosphere, which she describes as shaped like an apple enveloping the planet. On the surface, its influence can allegedly be observed in phenomena such as the South Atlantic Anomaly, an area of weakened geomagnetic field that she interprets as a probable epicenter of an impending reversal of Earth’s magnetosphere—an event unprecedented in recorded human history. Rather than framing this as an apocalyptic catastrophe, Conforto interprets it as a “Revelation,” a call to reconsider our entire understanding of reality.

The crystal, in her description, does not emit light but sound. At its center lies an even smaller and denser “heart” with a radius of about 400 kilometers, rotating westward in the opposite direction of the larger crystal, which rotates eastward. Seismographic observations of earthquake wave propagation have revealed complex dynamics in Earth’s inner core, and Conforto interprets these as evidence of a dual rotation—both clockwise and counterclockwise—within the planetary heart. She sees this as a self-sustaining source of energy, a “prime mover” that requires neither combustion nor fuel. For her, this discovery is not just a matter of geophysics but a profound revelation: a demonstration that energy and time have no ultimate limits.

Conforto extends this principle of dual rotation beyond geophysics, suggesting that it is mirrored in the atomic and cellular structures of living beings. At this level, she proposes a link with the “weak nuclear force” of modern physics, specifically the phenomenon of the neutral weak current. While conventionally treated as one of the four fundamental forces of nature, Conforto interprets it as the “true light” mentioned in sacred texts—a form of energy that is not visible but can be sensed as consciousness, emotion, and the unity of all life. This weak force, mediated by massive Z bosons, is in her view not weak at all but a transformative and accelerating energy. It could, she suggests, influence organic molecules, expand life, overcome fear, and foster communion between beings.

In this framework, the “true sun” is not the star in the sky but the great crystal at Earth’s center. Every crystal, she notes, emits sound quanta known as phonons, and this immense inner crystal produces what she describes as a “great opera,” a cosmic music whose parameters—such as speed and inclination—are now shifting. This change, she argues, signals a transition from an old era dominated by fear, division, and the illusion of electromagnetic appearances, to a New Era characterised by expansion, unity, and a recognition of deeper truths. For Conforto, the growth of the weak field and the decline of the electromagnetic field are emblematic of this epochal shift.

While Conforto’s ideas diverge sharply from mainstream science, they highlight the symbolic power of Hollow Earth narratives to capture questions that transcend physical geology. They address not only what lies at the center of the planet, but also what energises life, how consciousness interacts with matter, and how humanity interprets change on a planetary scale.

However, according to mainstream geophysics, there is another antithetical explanation of Earth’s structure. Seismology reveals a solid inner core, a liquid outer core, and a mantle of dense rock above them. Earth’s magnetic field is explained by the geodynamo: convective currents of molten iron in the outer core that generate magnetic fields consistent with both theoretical models and observational data. Satellite gravimetry, seismic tomography, and laboratory mineral physics all converge to support this layered model.

In conclusion, if we consider the vision of Giuliana Conforto and other scientists, philosophers, and  writers who imagine a kind of Hollow Earth with an inner sun, together with the possibility suggested by some authors that life might exist within it, then the connection with sacred scriptures becomes even more striking. Many traditions, from the Bible to the Qur’an, speak of a future transformation—a New Earth and New Heavens. If such hidden worlds or civilisations have always existed in harmony with Justice, Peace, and Love, their re-emergence could serve as a model for humanity. It would not only be a spiritual turning point, but also a transformation on many levels: physical, biological, chemical, geological, and even astronomical. In this sense, the Hollow Earth narrative can be read not just as a myth or a metaphor, but as a profound call to imagine a new epoch for humankind and for the planet itself.

 

References:

Giuliana Conforto, Il Sole nel cuore della Terra. https://www.giulianaconforto.it/post/1279

Katie Cutforth, “Hollow Earth Theory,” Mensa UK. https://mensa.org.uk/hollow-earth-theory/

Joel Frohlich, “How the Hollow Earth hypothesis illuminates falsifiable science,” Aeon. https://aeon.co/essays/how-the-hollow-earth-hypothesis-illuminates-falsifiable-science