31/03/2026
💜 grazzi
Every year, I find myself in the same place.
Not because I believe. Not because I follow the rituals. Not because I was told to go. But because something here refuses to let me stay on the surface.
Dwal Godda do something rare. They don’t ask you to agree. They don’t ask you to belong. They don’t even ask you to understand everything you’re seeing.
They simply hold up a mirror. And if you’re willing, even just for a moment, you look.
I don’t go there as a believer. I go there as a man who spends most of his year moving fast, solving problems, building, deciding, pushing forward. Like many of us, I live in a world that rewards distraction. Productivity. Noise.
But for that short time, everything slows down.
You sit with discomfort. With silence. With questions that don’t have quick answers.
You start noticing things you’ve been avoiding. The conversations you’ve postponed. The emotions you’ve numbed. The decisions you’ve justified but never fully owned.
There’s something powerful about choosing not to indulge. Not to escape. Not to fill the space with the next distraction.
Instead, you stay. You reflect on your choices. On how you’ve shown up for the people around you. On what you say you want, versus how you’re actually living.
Whether you believe in the story being told or not becomes irrelevant. Because the real story is the one happening inside you.
And maybe that’s the point.
We don’t need to agree on faith to agree on this:
We all benefit from moments that force us to pause, to feel, and to take responsibility for our lives.
So every year, I go back.
Not out of belief.
But out of respect for what happens when we stop running from ourselves.