There is something quietly thunderous about Hebrews 4, something that does not announce itself with spectacle but resonates like a slow-moving tremor beneath the surface of a believer’s life. On the page, it reads as instruction, caution, invitation, and warning all at once, but when you sit with it long enough, when you let the words move past the surface level of interpretation and into the deeper chambers of your inner life, you begin to realize that this chapter was never meant to be studied academically. It was meant to be walked into. It was meant to be inhabited. It was meant to be lived the way a traveler walks into a sanctuary he did not build but desperately needs. Hebrews 4 is a doorway into the kind of rest most people spend their entire lives searching for but never actually step into, because rest has never been about comfort, leisure, or the absence of struggle. Rest, as God defines it, is about alignment. It is the state of a soul that has surrendered the exhausting weight of self-reliance and stepped under the covering of a God who has already finished the work. And the more you understand that, the more you begin to feel this chapter reconstructing your understanding of what faith even is.

Hebrews 4 confronts us with the truth that rest is promised, but not guaranteed, and that alone shakes people who have grown comfortable with the idea that God’s blessings arrive automatically. It forces you to deal with the uncomfortable reality that you can believe in God, you can hear the Word, you can travel alongside those who walked faithfully and still miss what God intended for you if you do not mix what you heard with faith. That line—mixing the Word with faith—has a weight to it, because it removes the illusion that hearing alone is enough. Hearing is exposure. Faith is activation. This chapter tells us that two groups of people heard the same message: one entered the promise, the other did not. The distinction had nothing to do with intelligence, background, or access. It had everything to do with the inner posture of the soul. Faith is not a surface-level agreement, nor is it merely an intellectual acceptance. Faith is the willingness to stake your life on what God said even when your circumstances echo back a different story. In that sense, Hebrews 4 is not just a theological roadmap; it becomes a spiritual mirror. It asks whether you are merely acquainted with the promise or actively stepping into it.

As we journey through the chapter, we see this unique blending of urgency and tenderness. God is patient, but the window for entering His rest is not indefinite. Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your heart. That word today stretches across every generation, every era, every individual life. It is a reminder that God’s invitation is always present, but the acceptance of that invitation is always time-sensitive. You cannot enter tomorrow what you refuse today. The longer you postpone obedience, the more familiar disobedience becomes. The more familiar disobedience becomes, the more your heart calcifies into an unresponsiveness that feels normal but is spiritually lethal. Hebrews 4 is not warning us because God is afraid we will ruin His plans; it warns us because He knows how easily the human heart can drift into a spiritual coma while still maintaining the outward appearance of religious life. In that way, this chapter functions like a loving wake-up call. It shakes us not to frighten us, but to awaken us to the reality that divine rest is nothing like human rest. It is more demanding, more transformative, and far more sacred.

Then comes the profound and deeply layered metaphor of the Word of God being living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword. This passage is not describing Scripture as an object, but as an operation. It is a divine tool that cuts through layers of self-deception, emotional camouflage, and unconscious motivations. Most people read this line as if the Word simply exposes sin, but that is only the beginning. What it really does is divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow, which is another way of saying it separates what is you from what is God, what is temporary from what is eternal, what is emotional impulse from divine direction. That is the kind of examination that does not merely inform you, it transforms you. The Word does not simply reveal your actions; it reveals the truth behind your actions. It exposes fear disguised as wisdom, pride disguised as confidence, avoidance disguised as discernment. And once you stand revealed before God in that way, the illusion of self-sufficiency collapses. You either run from Him or fall into His arms. Hebrews 4 invites you to fall.

But the chapter does not end with exposure; it ends with invitation. After laying bare the thoughts and intents of the heart, it introduces Jesus as our great high priest who sympathizes with our weaknesses. This pairing is not accidental. God never exposes what He is not willing to heal. The sword is followed by the Savior. The diagnosis is followed by the remedy. This is where the beauty of Hebrews 4 truly blossoms, because it paints a picture of a God who not only sees every part of you but loves you fully despite the parts you try to hide. He understands every weakness, every temptation, every wound, every hidden battle. He knows the nights you lay awake, the prayers you never prayed out loud, the fears you mask with humor or strength or silence. And He tells you to come boldly. Not carefully. Not cautiously. Boldly. That single word transforms the entire tone of the chapter. You are not approaching a throne of judgment; you are approaching a throne of grace. And at that throne, mercy and help are not rationed. They are abundant, overflowing, and perfectly timed.

Hebrews 4, therefore, becomes a chapter that weaves both confrontation and comfort into one seamless fabric. It confronts you with the truth that faith is more than passive belief, more than inherited tradition, more than spiritual admiration. Faith is movement. Faith is obedience. Faith is the courage to step into a promise that looks impossible from a distance but becomes undeniable once you enter. And at the same time, it comforts you with the assurance that God understands the difficulty of that journey. He does not demand perfection; He demands pursuit. He does not ask you to eliminate weakness; He asks you to bring your weakness to Him. The rest He promises is not the reward for flawless performance but the gift given to those who trust Him enough to let go of their own strength.

To understand Hebrews 4 is to understand the tension between divine invitation and human responsibility. The promise is offered, but the acceptance is ours. The rest is prepared, but the entering is ours. The Word speaks, but the responding is ours. This duality defines the Christian journey, and Hebrews 4 captures it with striking clarity. It warns us of the consequences of unbelief not to terrify us but to remind us that drifting is always easier than devotion. Drifting requires nothing. Devotion requires intention. But only one of them leads to rest. Only one of them leads to peace. Only one of them leads to a life aligned with God’s original design for your soul. Hebrews 4 calls you to choose devotion, to choose rest, to choose a life that is fueled not by human striving but by divine surrender. And that choice—once made—reshapes everything.

As we continue deeper into the heart of Hebrews 4, the narrative begins to unfold into something far richer than a theological argument; it becomes a testimony of the human condition set against the unwavering faithfulness of God. You begin to see how the entire chapter operates like a double movement of the Spirit: first dismantling the illusions that keep people from rest, then reconstructing their understanding so they can finally receive what God has been offering since the foundation of the world. It reminds you that divine rest is not new; it is ancient. It is not an innovation; it is a restoration. God’s rest did not begin with the wilderness generation, nor did it end with them. It is woven into creation itself, sanctified on the seventh day, reaching across time like an echo that humanity has struggled to hear over the noise of its own self-made burdens. Hebrews 4 reveals that rest is not just something God provides, but something He participates in, and He invites His children to join Him there, not because they have earned it, but because He has finished what they could never complete on their own. Understanding this reshapes your entire view of spiritual life. Faith becomes less about striving for God and more about stepping into what God has already prepared.

Yet despite this, the tragedy of human history is that most people never enter this rest. Some never hear the call. Others hear it but ignore it. Still others begin the journey but turn back when obedience feels costly or inconvenient. Hebrews 4 shows us that unbelief is not always dramatic; often it is subtle, slow, and disguised as caution. It sometimes looks like waiting for a better time to trust God. It sometimes looks like analyzing a promise until you have dismantled every ounce of wonder from it. It sometimes looks like clinging to your own understanding because the alternative feels too frightening, too uncertain, too dependent on Someone you cannot control. And this is why the chapter insists that the Word of God pierces to the deepest places in us. It exposes the spiritual procrastination we call wisdom. It reveals the fear beneath our excuses. It unmasks the pride that hides behind our desire to “be sure” before we obey. Such revelation is uncomfortable, but it is necessary, because you cannot step into rest while clinging to beliefs that keep you from trusting the One who offers it. Hebrews 4 teaches that the greatest enemy of divine rest is not exhaustion but unbelief, not imperfection but hesitation.

At the center of this chapter lies a remarkable contrast between the works of humanity and the work of God. Humanity works out of fear, pressure, and insecurity, exhausting itself in an attempt to prove worthiness or maintain control. God works from completion. He works from fullness. He invites His children not into a struggle but into a Sabbath that has already been accomplished. When the Scripture says that “the works were finished from the foundation of the world,” it is making a declaration that challenges everything the human heart is conditioned to believe. We live in a world that tells us rest must be earned, peace must be purchased, and security must be built by our own hands. But Hebrews 4 confronts that mindset with the truth that God has already done the work that makes eternal rest possible. This does not mean we are passive observers. Instead, it means our efforts must be aligned with His finished work rather than fueled by our own insecurities. When you adopt this posture, obedience becomes less of a burden and more of a response to grace. You step into God’s rest not by manufacturing faith but by releasing the lies that kept you from believing Him in the first place.

As the chapter expands its metaphor of rest, it invites us to see that God’s rest is not merely a future destination but a present dimension of the Christian life. It is something we taste now, something we enter into daily, something that shapes our decisions and steadies our emotions. When you live from rest, you no longer react to life the way the world reacts. You begin to make choices from a place of security rather than panic. You handle adversity without collapsing under it. You face uncertainty without surrendering to fear. You walk through conflict without letting it poison your spirit. Rest is not the absence of noise; it is the ability to remain unshaken in the midst of it. Hebrews 4 shows that rest is not an escape from responsibility but an empowerment to carry responsibility without it crushing you. It is the difference between living life with God and living life for God. One depletes you. The other sustains you. Only one is biblical.

The boldness the author encourages when approaching the throne of grace is one of the most revolutionary elements of this chapter, because it overturns centuries of religious conditioning that taught people to approach God with fear, distance, and hesitation. In the Old Testament, the high priest entered the Holy of Holies once a year, with trembling, carrying the weight of the nation on his shoulders. But Hebrews 4 declares that because of Jesus, the true high priest, you can approach God with confidence. This does not mean casualness; it means access. It means relationship. It means you are no longer an outsider peeking into holiness from a distance. You are a child invited into the very place where mercy flows freely and help arrives exactly when you need it. Boldness does not come from arrogance. Boldness comes from assurance—assurance that Jesus understands your weakness, assurance that He intercedes for you, assurance that He welcomes you. When you truly believe this, prayer becomes less of a ritual and more of a refuge. You come to God not because you performed well, but because you are loved well.

The chapter’s exploration of Jesus as high priest is also designed to dismantle any lingering belief that your struggles make you unworthy of God’s presence. The text emphasizes that He was tempted in every way, yet without sin. This does not simply mean Jesus understands temptation; it means He understands humanity. He understands pressure, loss, fatigue, loneliness, betrayal, misunderstanding, and hardship. He knows what it is to be surrounded by people and still feel isolated. He knows what it is to carry a calling no one around Him fully understands. He knows what it is to fight through spiritual battles no one else can see. His sympathy is not theoretical. It is intimate, experiential, and deeply personal. When you bring your weaknesses to Him, He does not recoil. He recognizes them. He lived through them. And because He lived through them, He knows exactly how to guide you through yours.

One of the most powerful truths Hebrews 4 unveils is that rest is not the absence of activity but the presence of alignment. You can be extremely active and still be spiritually rested if what you are doing is fueled by God’s direction rather than your own anxiety. Likewise, you can be physically still but spiritually exhausted if your heart is filled with fear, doubt, or unresolved conflict. Rest is the recalibration of the soul. It is the settling of the spirit. It is the anchoring of your identity in the unchanging nature of God rather than the unstable conditions of the world. When you enter God’s rest, you stop oscillating between faith and fear. You stop living like a prisoner of your emotions. You stop reacting to circumstances as if they are sovereign. Rest is a declaration of trust that frees you from the tyranny of constantly trying to figure everything out. It releases you from the crippling need to control every outcome. It liberates you from the exhausting cycle of performing for God instead of walking with Him.

Hebrews 4 also reveals that entering rest requires diligence, a paradox that often confuses readers. How can rest require effort? How can peace require pursuit? The answer becomes clear when you understand that diligence is not about labor but about resistance. You are resisting the gravitational pull of unbelief. You are resisting the temptation to return to old patterns. You are resisting the voices that tell you to trust yourself more than you trust God. You are resisting the fear that tries to drag you back into a life defined by self-protection instead of surrender. The effort is not in achieving rest; it is in fighting everything within you that resists it. Rest is not passive. It is intentional. It requires guarding your heart. It requires anchoring your mind. It requires refusing to let circumstances speak louder than God’s promises. Diligence protects the doorway through which you enter divine rest.

In understanding Hebrews 4, you begin to see that the entire spiritual journey hinges on the relationship between promise and faith. A promise without faith is a possibility that never becomes a reality. Faith without a promise is energy without direction. When the two meet, destiny awakens. Hebrews 4 ensures we understand that God’s promises are not theoretical; they are invitations that require participation. You cannot receive a promise you refuse to walk toward. You cannot enter a rest you continually postpone. You cannot live in God’s rhythm while marching to the beat of your own fears. When you combine promise with faith, you step into a life that looks radically different from the world around you. You walk into a rest that allows you to be steady when others collapse, calm when others panic, hopeful when others despair, and faithful when others abandon trust.

As we approach the closing reflections on Hebrews 4, it becomes clear that this chapter does not merely inform you about rest but trains you to recognize its absence. It teaches you to identify spiritual unrest not as a normal part of the Christian life but as a sign that something within you is misaligned. Unrest often reveals unaddressed fear or unresolved disobedience. It reveals where you are carrying burdens God never asked you to carry. It reveals where you are trying to engineer outcomes rather than trust God’s process. It reveals where you are holding onto identity markers that God has already stripped from your story. When unrest surfaces, it is not condemnation; it is invitation. It is a sign that God is calling you deeper, calling you inward, calling you into the sanctuary where your soul can finally breathe.

Hebrews 4 leaves us with one undeniable truth: rest is not a luxury for the spiritually elite but a necessity for every believer who desires to walk with God in authenticity and endurance. Without rest, your decisions become reactive. Without rest, your vision becomes clouded. Without rest, your faith becomes fragile. Without rest, your spirit becomes overwhelmed. But when you enter God’s rest, everything changes. You begin to live from a place of clarity. You begin to hear God more easily. You begin to trust Him more deeply. You begin to walk with a steadiness that cannot be shaken by external circumstances. Rest becomes the internal proof of an external faith. It becomes the evidence that you have surrendered your life into the hands of the One who already completed the work.

The legacy of Hebrews 4 is that it teaches you how to live in a world that is constantly demanding more while God is constantly inviting you into His rest. It shows you that the most powerful believer is not the one who works the hardest but the one who trusts the deepest. It shows you that the strength of your walk is not determined by the battles you avoid but by the posture you maintain while walking through them. It shows you that rest is not the calm after the storm but the calm in the storm, the peace that surpasses understanding because it does not depend on understanding. And in the end, this chapter becomes a spiritual compass that points your heart back to the truth that God’s rest is not just available; it is essential. It is the birthplace of transformation, the foundation of endurance, and the anchor of every believer who refuses to settle for a life powered by human striving instead of divine surrender.

When you step back and see Hebrews 4 as a whole, you recognize that its message is not merely instructional but deeply personal. It speaks to the parts of you that are tired, afraid, stretched thin, or quietly discouraged. It speaks to the believer who knows God is faithful yet struggles to let go of control. It speaks to the person who wants to trust but is afraid of what surrender might cost. It speaks to the one who has been carrying responsibilities that were never meant to be carried alone. And it speaks to the one who desperately needs the kind of rest the world cannot give. This chapter is a reminder that God is not calling you to collapse; He is calling you to align. He is not asking you to abandon responsibility; He is asking you to release the illusion that you carry it alone. He is not asking you to be perfect; He is asking you to be present. Present with Him. Present in His rest. Present in His grace.

Hebrews 4 ultimately reveals that divine rest is not something you wait for but something you walk into, something you choose, something you guard, something you return to again and again. It teaches you to quiet the noise within so you can hear the voice that has been calling you since before you were born. It teaches you to loosen your grip on the things you were never meant to control. It teaches you to trust the God who understands your weakness, sympathizes with your struggles, and invites you—boldly—to come to Him for mercy and help. When you live from this place, you carry a rest that the world cannot imitate and cannot take away. You become a witness not only to the truth of God but to the peace of God. You become the kind of believer whose presence brings calm into chaos, whose faith steadies the room, whose spirit remains unshaken because it is anchored not in circumstances but in the One who finished the work before you ever began your journey. And in that way, Hebrews 4 becomes more than a chapter. It becomes a lifestyle. It becomes a legacy. It becomes a way of living that reveals the heart of God in a restless world that desperately needs the rest only He can offer.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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Det har aldrig varit enklare att känna sig trygg med sina filer. Bilder laddas upp automatiskt, dokument sparas i bakgrunden och nya enheter synkroniseras på några sekunder. Molnlagring har gjort säkerhetskopiering till något som nästan verkar osynligt. För många känns det som att problemet med backup är löst en gång för alla.

Men den känslan förtjänar att granskas. Vad är det egentligen som händer när våra filer sparas i molnet? Är synkronisering samma sak som en säkerhetskopia? Och vilka risker finns kvar trots att vi lämnat externa hårddiskar och manuella kopieringar bakom oss?

Den här artikeln undersöker om molntjänster verkligen gör att vi kan sluta tänka på backup, eller om de bara har förändrat vad vi behöver tänka på.

Känslan av att allt bara finns där

Det är lätt att förstå varför många känner att backup är ett löst problem. När bilder automatiskt laddas upp till Google Photos, dokument sparas i Microsoft OneDrive och filer synkas via Dropbox uppstår en känsla av trygghet. Allt ligger ju i molnet. Om datorn kraschar, blir stulen eller tappas i golvet finns filerna kvar.

Molnlagring har utan tvekan förändrat hur vi hanterar data. Förr krävdes externa hårddiskar, USB-minnen och manuell kopiering. Backup var ett aktivt projekt. I dag sker synkronisering i bakgrunden, utan att vi behöver göra något. Det skapar en upplevelse av att säkerhetskopiering är inbyggd och automatisk.

Men frågan är om molnlagring verkligen är samma sak som backup.

Synkronisering är inte detsamma som säkerhetskopiering

En central missuppfattning är att synkade filer automatiskt innebär skydd mot alla typer av förlust. I praktiken fungerar många molntjänster som speglingar. Om du raderar en fil på din dator raderas den även i molnet. Om du skriver över ett dokument med fel version synkas den nya versionen direkt.

Det betyder att molnet i många fall reproducerar misstag lika effektivt som det skyddar mot hårdvarufel. Råkar du ta bort en mapp och tömma papperskorgen kan den försvinna överallt. Vissa tjänster erbjuder versionshistorik och möjlighet att återställa raderade filer, men dessa funktioner har ofta tidsbegränsningar eller kräver särskilda abonnemang.

Backup i klassisk mening innebär att det finns en separat kopia som inte påverkas direkt av förändringar i originalet. Den kopian ska kunna återställas även om användaren själv gjort ett misstag. Molnsynk är något annat.

Skydd mot hårdvara men inte mot allt

Molntjänster är mycket effektiva när det gäller att skydda mot fysiska risker. Om en dator går sönder, en telefon tappas bort eller ett kontor drabbas av brand finns filerna kvar på servrar som drivs av stora aktörer med avancerade säkerhetssystem. Här är molnet överlägset den gamla modellen med en enda lokal hårddisk.

Men riskbilden har förändrats snarare än försvunnit. I stället för att oroa sig för trasiga diskar behöver användare fundera över kontosäkerhet. Om någon får tillgång till ditt konto kan de radera eller manipulera filer. Om du själv tappar åtkomsten till ditt konto kan det bli svårt att återfå tillgången till materialet.

Det finns också juridiska och kommersiella dimensioner. Användare är beroende av att leverantören fortsätter erbjuda tjänsten på rimliga villkor. Även om det är ovanligt att stora plattformar stänger ner helt, har mindre tjänster genom åren lagts ner eller förändrat sina villkor.

Versionshantering och återställning som kompromiss

Många moderna molntjänster försöker kombinera synk och backup genom versionshistorik. Det innebär att tidigare versioner av ett dokument sparas under en viss tid. Om något går fel kan man rulla tillbaka till en tidigare version.

Det är en viktig funktion, men den har begränsningar. Tidsperioden kan vara begränsad till 30 dagar eller ett visst antal versioner. Om ett problem upptäcks sent kan återställningsmöjligheten vara borta. Dessutom är funktionen ofta beroende av att användaren själv aktivt går in och återställer.

För privatpersoner kan detta vara tillräckligt skydd i många situationer. För företag, där dataförlust kan få stora ekonomiska konsekvenser, är det sällan tillräckligt. Där används ofta separata backup-system utöver molnlagringen.

Ransomware och den nya hotbilden

En särskild risk är skadlig kod som krypterar filer, så kallad ransomware. Om infekterade filer synkas till molnet kan även molnkopian påverkas. Vissa molntjänster kan återställa tidigare versioner, men processen är inte alltid enkel och kräver snabb upptäckt.

Det visar att molnet inte är en magisk säkerhetszon. Det är en del av samma ekosystem som resten av dina enheter. Om en enhet komprometteras kan effekterna spridas genom synkronisering.

Bekvämlighetens pris

Det är tydligt att molnlagring har gjort backup enklare och mer tillgänglig. Många människor som tidigare inte gjorde några säkerhetskopior alls har nu åtminstone ett grundläggande skydd mot tekniska haverier. Det är en enorm förbättring jämfört med tidigare.

Samtidigt har bekvämligheten skapat en känsla av total säkerhet som inte alltid stämmer. När allt sker automatiskt minskar medvetenheten om riskerna. Backup blir något vi antar finns, snarare än något vi aktivt planerar.

Den klassiska principen om flera oberoende kopior, gärna på olika platser och i olika system, är fortfarande relevant. Molnlagring kan vara en del av den strategin, men ersätter den inte helt.

Så slipper vi tänka, men bör inte sluta

Molntjänster för lagring har utan tvekan förändrat vår relation till backup. De har gjort det möjligt att skydda sig mot de vanligaste tekniska problemen utan särskild ansträngning. För många användare innebär det att risken för total dataförlust har minskat drastiskt.

Men att vi kan sluta tänka på backup är en illusion. Molnet är ett kraftfullt verktyg, inte en garanti. Skillnaden mellan synkronisering och verklig säkerhetskopiering är avgörande. Den som förstår den skillnaden har betydligt bättre förutsättningar att skydda sitt digitala liv.

#002292 – 07 de Setembro de 2025

Ninguém desenha só porque não consegue fotografar. Porque é que alguém há-de deixar de fotografar porque a IA consegue gerar imagens a partir de um prompt? Isto é verdade óbvia para um artista. Nenhum artista se dedica à sua arte por haver uma ineficiência por corrigir.

Já as indústrias estão sempre à cata de ineficiências. Por isso quando se pensa no assunto do ponto de vista do Spotify ou de um estúdio de Hollywood a decisão de substituir um artista só é pesada em termos financeiros.

There comes a moment in every believer’s life when the world strips you down to the core in a way you did not expect, did not welcome, and did not prepare for, yet somehow needed more deeply than you ever realized. It happens quietly sometimes, like a slow erosion of the familiar, where the things you once leaned on begin slipping through your fingers without the courtesy of an explanation. It happens violently at other times, like a sudden collapse that knocks the wind out of your lungs and forces you to face the terrifying reality of losing what you thought you could not live without. In that moment something shifts inside you in a way that words fail to capture until much later, because the inner transformation rarely announces itself while it is happening. It emerges in silence, taking shape beneath the layers of grief, shock, confusion, or exhaustion. And when everything that used to define you, comfort you, distract you, or shelter you suddenly disappears, you are left standing face to face with the one thing that cannot be taken: the person God crafted you to be. It is only then that you begin to understand how much of your life had been spent holding pieces of yourself hostage to things that were never meant to last.

When all you have left is everything you are, what rises to the surface is the purest version of your identity—the one God placed within you long before you had success to boast in or failures to hide behind. It is the version of you that existed before disappointment reshaped your expectations, before fear tightened around your decisions, and before other people’s opinions clouded your sense of direction. That version of you may not appear impressive to the world, but it carries a kind of raw, unfiltered truth that God can work with in ways nothing else can. Life has a strange way of peeling back the layers we thought were essential only to reveal that they were the very things keeping us from stepping fully into the purpose God had been whispering into our spirit all along. And while we fight desperately to hold on to the things we think define us, God is gently trying to remove them so He can show us what actually does. When He allows certain doors to close, it is not because He is abandoning us but because He knows that the rooms behind those doors would have quietly suffocated our calling had we stayed in them.

There is something deeply holy about the moment when you feel emptied out, because God has always done His greatest work with empty vessels. He cannot fill a heart that is still clinging to its own strength, nor can He rebuild a life that insists on carrying the weight of the old foundation. So He allows emptiness not as punishment but as preparation. He allows certain comforts to disappear so you can learn the difference between comfort and calling. He allows people to walk away so you can learn the difference between companionship and assignment. And He allows circumstances to shake you so you can learn the difference between stability and surrender. These lessons rarely appear gentle while you are walking through them, yet they become some of the most defining encounters of your life once God has finished reshaping your soul through them. Because in the end, emptiness is not the end of you; it is the beginning of who you were meant to become.

Scripture is filled with people who met God most profoundly in the exact moments they had nothing left but themselves. Moses was not standing on a throne when God called him; he was standing in the wilderness with a past he regretted and a future he could not imagine. David did not rise in influence because he held power; he rose because he carried a heart God could trust. Gideon did not lead armies because he felt strong; he led them because God met him in the weakness he tried so hard to hide. Over and over again, God chose the people who had run out of reasons to believe in themselves, because those were the people who would learn to rely on Him rather than their own strength. That pattern repeats in our lives constantly, though we rarely recognize it in the moment. When life knocks the scaffolding away, we think we are being destroyed, but God is actually revealing whether we built our foundation on the rock or on the shifting sands of our own plans. And until those sands are washed away, we never fully see how solid His presence truly is beneath our feet.

Every believer eventually encounters a season where everything you expected would hold you up suddenly collapses, and all you are left with is the quiet ache of uncertainty. These are the seasons when prayer feels more like breathing than speaking, when faith feels more like endurance than confidence, and when hope feels more like a faint pulse than a triumphant shout. And yet these are the seasons when God does the most defining work, because the absence of external support forces you to reconnect with His voice in a deeper way. The distractions shrink. The noise fades. The opinions of others fall away. And you discover that the God who holds galaxies in place with a whisper is somehow gentle enough to sit with you in your weakness without rushing you, correcting you, or condemning you. He simply waits with you, shaping you from the inside out. He knows that the person you become in the quiet places will carry a strength that no visible victory can ever match.

When everything else is stripped away, you discover the strange but liberating truth that your identity is not tied to the outcomes you feared or the losses you dreaded. Your identity rests solely in the God who crafted you, breathed life into you, and placed purpose inside you long before anyone else had an opinion about who you should be. And when you finally come face to face with that truth, a weight lifts off your soul. You begin to see that the things you lost were not pieces of yourself but layers of expectation, fear, ego, or comfort that God needed to shed from you so you could finally walk freely. It is humbling to realize how much of your life was spent clinging to things that could never sustain you, but it is also freeing. Because once you have gone through a season of losing everything except the core of who you are, you develop a kind of spiritual clarity that cannot be shaken by future storms. You learn to trust God not because life is predictable but because He has proven Himself faithful in the places where predictability failed.

This spiritual clarity deepens even further when you realize that God did not allow your losses to break you; He allowed them to reveal you. There is a part of every believer that only surfaces when the outer layers have been stripped away—the part that carries the imprint of God’s hands, the echo of His voice, and the resilience of His Spirit. That part of you is not fragile. It is not temporary. It is not dependent on circumstances. It is the part of you that remains steady when the rest of your life feels unstable. It is the part of you that recognizes God’s presence not by sight but by trust. And it is the part of you that finds strength not from what you have but from who you belong to. When you stand in that place of profound surrender, a shift happens that cannot be undone. You begin to see life not from the vantage point of what you lack but from the vantage point of who walks with you.

In these stripped-down seasons, your heart becomes more honest than it has ever been. You pray differently. You listen differently. You love differently. You stop trying to impress God with polished faith and simply hand Him the raw truth of who you are. That is where transformation begins. Not in the moments when your faith feels strong, but in the moments when your faith feels fragile yet still reaches for Him anyway. God is not moved by the confidence you portray; He is moved by the trust you place in Him when everything around you feels uncertain. And when all the extras are gone, trust becomes clearer, simpler, and more grounded. You stop negotiating with God and start surrendering to Him. You stop performing for Him and start partnering with Him. In the raw honesty of being stripped down to just yourself, God finds space to breathe new life into you.

Every believer eventually reaches a crossroads where they have to decide whether they will allow their emptiness to define them or whether they will allow God to fill it with purpose. This decision is not made loudly. It happens quietly in the chambers of your soul, often between God and your tears. But once it is made, everything changes. You begin to see a path forming where you once saw a dead end. You begin to feel hope rising where despair once lived. You begin to recognize that what felt like the end of your strength was actually the beginning of His. And once you recognize that, fear loses its power over you. Because a person who has walked through emptiness with God becomes someone the enemy cannot intimidate. Their faith is not built on blessings but on presence. Their courage is not built on confidence but on surrender. Their hope is not borrowed from circumstances but anchored in eternity.

As the journey deepens, you begin to realize something profound about the seasons where you feel emptied: they are not designed to humiliate you or reduce you, but to return you to truth. The truth is that you were never meant to define yourself by anything external, whether success, validation, stability, or the illusion of control. The truth is that every worldly identity eventually cracks under the weight of real life, because none of them were built to withstand the turbulence of calling, pain, loss, or divine refinement. The truth is that God is not content to let you build your life on foundations that cannot hold your destiny. So when you feel stripped of everything you thought you needed, God is not taking from you out of anger but clearing space to anchor you in what is eternal. You learn, slowly but surely, that reduction is not rejection. You learn that subtraction is often divine preparation. And in time you discover that who you are before God is far more powerful than anything you used to cling to for identity.

There is a beauty that shows up in your life once your identity becomes anchored in God’s presence rather than your circumstances. Fear begins to loosen its grip because fear thrives on what-ifs, and God thrives on what-is. Anxiety loses authority because anxiety feeds on the illusion of self-reliance, and God teaches you to trust in His reliability. Shame dissolves because shame survives through secrecy and comparison, and God breaks both by calling you into the light. When all you have left is everything you are, you become a person who cannot be swayed by the unpredictable winds of life. You stop giving your peace away so cheaply. You stop letting temporary moments define eternal truths. You stop interpreting God’s silence as abandonment and begin to understand it as strategy. And slowly, you become someone who recognizes that emptiness is not a void but a canvas God is preparing to paint on.

As God rebuilds you from the inside, you begin to notice small but meaningful shifts that feel subtle at first but eventually transform everything. You start speaking to yourself with more patience because you understand now that growth rarely happens in straight lines. You start treating your own soul with more compassion because you realize how much weight you were carrying in silence. You start approaching your future not with fear but with curiosity, because emptiness taught you the difference between your plans and God’s purpose. And you begin to walk through life with a kind of gentle confidence that does not need to prove anything, because your worth has been tested in fire and has emerged unburned. What once felt like loss now feels like liberation. What once felt like the end of the road now feels like the beginning of clarity. And what once felt like devastation has, through the quiet work of God, become the soil of transformation.

This clarity becomes even more powerful when you realize that God does not simply restore what was lost; He restores you into someone who would never settle for the version of life you once accepted. Loss changes your standards. It alters your spiritual posture. It sharpens your discernment. Before emptiness, you may have tolerated things that kept you spiritually stagnant, but after emptiness, you begin recognizing misalignment instantly. Before emptiness, you might have tried to earn love or approval, but after emptiness, you understand that love rooted in God does not need to be earned; it needs to be received. Before emptiness, you might have built your life around what seemed safe, but after emptiness, you begin building around what is sacred. And through it all, God is shaping you into someone who carries depth, maturity, resilience, and presence—qualities that cannot be imitated and cannot be manufactured through ease.

What makes this transformation so sacred is that it often happens quietly and slowly, without applause or validation. No one sees the inner work God is doing inside you. No one witnesses the nights you stare at the ceiling trying to make sense of your life. No one sees the moments you choose hope despite feeling crushed by uncertainty. No one hears the trembling prayers whispered from a place of exhaustion and longing. But God sees all of it, and He counts those moments as far more significant than any public victory you could ever experience. In His eyes, inward obedience is more powerful than outward success. In His heart, your willingness to trust Him when you feel empty carries more weight than your ability to praise Him when you feel full. This is why He often allows the soul to pass through seasons where the only thing left is everything you are. It is in that place that your faith becomes real, your character becomes refined, and your purpose becomes undeniable.

Eventually the day comes when you wake up and realize you are not the same person who entered the season of emptiness. Your spirit carries a depth that cannot be taken from you. Your eyes see the world with a clarity that did not exist before. Your heart beats with a resilience born only from walking with God through uncertain terrain. And your steps feel different—not because the circumstances have changed, but because you have. You no longer chase things that once consumed you. You no longer panic when plans shift or doors close. You no longer seek validation from people who were never meant to define your worth. Instead, you move through life with a steady awareness that you are held, guided, and strengthened by a God who has proven Himself to you in the valley, in the silence, and in the stripping away.

When all you have left is everything you are, you discover not only who you are, but who God has been all along. You see how He protected you from paths you desperately wanted but would have destroyed you. You see how He redeemed moments you thought were beyond saving. You see how He stayed close when others walked away. And you see how He used the very emptiness that scared you to create space for a future you were not ready for yet. In time, you stop resenting the loss and start appreciating the clarity. You stop grieving the chapters that ended and begin recognizing the wisdom they birthed. And you stop fearing the unknown because you now understand that the unknown is where God does His most creative work.

This new way of living becomes the foundation for everything that comes next. You begin dreaming again, but your dreams are no longer rooted in ego or survival; they are rooted in surrender and alignment. You begin loving again, but your love is no longer desperate or afraid; it is steady, grounded, and generous. You begin walking in purpose again, but your purpose is no longer about proving yourself; it is about partnering with God in the story He is writing through you. And this time, you walk not with the fear of losing everything, but with the confidence of someone who already survived the loss and discovered that God is enough.

What emerges from this entire journey is a version of you that no longer fears emptiness because you’ve learned what it really is: an invitation to encounter God without the noise. You have become someone who understands that storms do not come to destroy you but to reveal what cannot be shaken. You have become someone who sees that endings are necessary for new beginnings to have room to grow. And you have become someone who recognizes that when all you have left is everything you are, you stand in the strongest place possible, because you stand with nothing false to uphold and nothing temporary to protect. What remains is pure, eternal, and rooted in God alone.

In the end, this is the strange beauty of the spiritual journey: what feels like the end is often the doorway to the deepest beginning. What feels like loss becomes the birthplace of wisdom. What feels like emptiness becomes the space God fills with purpose. And what feels like devastation becomes the foundation God builds your future upon. When everything else falls away, and only your true self remains, God smiles—not because you are broken, but because now He can rebuild you without the clutter. Now he can strengthen you without resistance. Now He can lead you without the noise drowning out His voice. And now you can finally see that everything you thought you lost was only clearing the way for everything you were created to become.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph

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Donations to help keep this Ministry active daily can be mailed to:

Douglas Vandergraph Po Box 271154 Fort Collins, Colorado 80527

At this point in time, the most likely candidate for my game before bedtime is an NCAA men's basketball game featuring the Duke Blue Devils playing the North Carolina St. Wolfpack. Of course, that's still several hours away, and I also follow Spring Training baseball, so it's possible I may choose something else.

And the adventure continues.

War Is Now Absolutely Necessary — For the Ruling Elites

Written on 07 Jan 2026

The drums of war are beating, but not because of scarcity, but because the powerful are losing control of their subservients.

At a time when the AI revolution seems poised to bring about economic development unlike any other time, human potential flourishing as never seen before, humanity at its brightest moment, breakthroughts in treatments for disease, social media empowering millions to become their own employers, people more multidisciplinary, psychologically aware, academically educated, globally connected, and socially bonded than ever in history and these brilliant, talented people are now raising the most emancipated generation to come into being in about 10 years.

All the while the world is shrinking and seems almost as small as a backyard. Not much can remain hidden for long in a backyard, right? So much so the nature of the ideological / economic system, which now days lays bare for anyone to witness its near total disregard for decency.

A system once hailed “the end of history”.

But all that was all.... last year. Now it proudly reveals itself as primarily an extractor of wealth at all costs, disregarding the social contract upon which its source of power rests. Regarding human dignity, decency and respect it is underminning them conciously. The population needs to be engineered to be constantly frustrated, angry, undeserved, discriminated, wronged, unfocused, impatient, self centered out of design. These traits favor tension between people and resentment and hate and stereotyping. A prerequisite to halt any attempt for collective action.

These, mechanisms worked wonders and still do, but brave young and old persons can now easily navigate out of the fog. It may seem surprising, given how often people are portrayed as naive or ignorant but my guess is that a critical mass, more than needed to trigger change, already knows the truth. The current order is not broken, it is not mulfunctioning, but to the contrary it is working in higher revs to extract ever more.

These people know what the system is about.

They may believe they are hopelessly few.

They may believe organizing is impossible.

They point to the failures of institutional left, not because it’s ideologically naive, but because it’s structurally corrupt.

But cooperation in human societies is as natural as laughing with friends over beer on a Friday night gathering. The moment this critical mass turns the tide of understanding may be closer than we think. I once thought this moment was distant but the powerful made me revise my projections. Their actions speak clearly of their weakness, their clear and present dreadful fear of being disposed. The king is naked and he knows the people know it.

And he’s afraid of the moment the people realize he knows they know. Then it might be as simple as a new political force rising to replace the olygarchs.

If this is true, then the Grand Awakening is not coming, it is already here. War is thus necessary, not for the people, but for the powerful, to prevent the Grand Disclosure of this awakening.

Aggressive behavior is almost always a sign of weakness. So the United States returning to a form of aggression reminiscent of its pre-hegemonic past, is not asserting military dominance, which it has. (The US has 600+ military bases, the world has 200+ states). It is creating destabilization. The grandest distraction of all is societal destruction.

Once war abroad is normalized, then it can reach home. And that is the plan.

Once, people eagerly installed themselves as gears in the economic machine, what Michael Sandel called “the tyranny of merit.” Immense wealth, once laundered as “God’s will,” is now merit-washed.

The rich, super-rich, ultra-rich “deserve” their wealth not because of divine payback but because of “self-made” merit, the ideology of the Century of the Self.

This era is ending its frictionless journey in human history. It almost seems that if you stopped a random passerby and asked them to describe the world affairs, their answer would be further to the left than you assummed it would be, you may have even considered lecturing. So, why doesn’t the institutionalized left claim this reality?

Because it has not freed itself from power.

The powerful know they have lost legitimacy.

The people are no longer willing to follow without brute force.

And societal devastation is the only tool left for the powerful to cling to power and riches. By making people beg for water, not for justice, equity, kindnes, liberty and human flourishing.

It is not perceived but actual weakness driving this aggression. Near total collapse of legitimacy.

Thus, it seems to me that War is absolutely necessary — for the powerful.

While an anti-war movement is absolutely necessary for humanity.

The only thing movements, people, and organizations should focus on now — is building that global anti-war movement.

It nearly seems, as if Fukoyamma was right after all, calling it the end of history.

—Wingspan

Writing in Athens, Greece

My family and I recently got sick again. Not as bad as before when I wrote the article Being Sick Sucks!, but it still sucks. I’ll be back soon and post next Tuesday on the 10th. Thanks for your patience.

#family #sick #sucks #off

Note: English below

Vizuelna poezija podrazumeva zapitan i razigran pristup materijalima, ritmu i značenju, a ova radionica uvodi učesnike upravo u taj oblik izraza, gde jezički i grafički elementi grade nove umetničke odnose. Kroz prezentaciju i diskusiju o političko-kulturnom (a posebno lokalnom) kontekstu vizuelne poezije dolazimo do praktičnog rada čija su polazišna tačka stara izdanja školskih lektira. Ideja je da učesnici pristupe knjizi kao likovno-tekstualnom predmetu, ali i kao papirnom kalupu za nekonvencionalne vizuelne kompozicije. Ohrabrujemo korišćenje tehnika poput cepanja, bušenja, lepljenja, precrtavanja, šivenja, bojenja, kolažiranja (i drugih), kako bi stvorili jedan slojevitiji ili više manjih radova. Poziv je otvoren za sve, nezavisno od godina, profesije ili predznanja u oblastima poezije/grafike.

Kreativnim postupcima odgovaramo na dileme: kojim praksama i sa kojim ciljevima odstupamo od zadatih okvira, disciplina i tzv. pravila u stvaralaštvu? Kojim metodama prekrajamo kanon? Naziv radionice je podsetnik na razmišljanja signaliste Miroljuba Todorovića, dok udruživanje u diskusijama i radu referiše na kritičke prakse avangardnih pesnika. Zato ćemo razgovarati o načinima samoorganizacije umetnika, naručito o zadrugarstvu i konkretno o međunarodnoj umetničkoj zadruzi, koja je trenutno u procesu osnivanja, u okviru projekta Shared Visions. Kome se ovakvim kolektivnim aktivnostima obraćamo i zašto? Koja su načela i vrednosti zadruge i kako ekonomski funkcioniše? Da li način organizacije ima uticaj na način produkcije umetnosti? Pričaćemo o dosadašnjim iskustvima proisteklim iz radionica i razgovora sa umetnicima u Srbiji, regionu i Evropi. Postoji li komunikacija između lokalnih inicijativa/institucija i ljudi, gde su građani učesnici, a ne tek korisnici?

Radionica se održava u Kragujevcu, u grafičkoj radionici FILUM-a u podrumu Prve kragujevačke gimnazije, tokom vikenda koji slavi Svetski dan poezije, 21. i 22. marta, od 10h do 17h oba dana (sa pauzom za ručak). Radionicu udruženim snagama organizuju Shared Visions i Klub Podzemljica, dok kao mentorka gostuje pesnikinja Maša Seničić.

Na radionicu će biti primljeno do 30 učesnika, pri čemu postoji moguća podrška za putovanja i smeštaj do 10 umetnika. Oni koji žive daleko mogu doći dan ranije. Prijave su otvorene do 15. marta i dostupne su na sledećem linku: https://forms.gle/7mbcMRwp8jtsTVxk8

Open Call for the Visual Poetry Workshop: Liberating Form

Visual poetry implies an inquiring and playful approach to materials, rhythm, and meaning, and this workshop introduces participants precisely to that form of expression, where linguistic and graphic elements build new artistic relationships. Through a presentation and discussion on the political and cultural (and especially local) context of visual poetry, we move toward practical work whose starting point will be old editions of school reading books. The idea is for participants to approach the book both as a visual-textual object and as a paper mold for unconventional visual compositions. We encourage the use of techniques such as tearing, perforating, gluing, crossing out, sewing, coloring, collaging (and others), to create either one layered piece or several smaller works. The call is open to everyone, regardless of age, profession, or prior experience in poetry or graphic arts.

Through creative processes, we respond to the dilemmas: by which practices and toward what aims do we depart from given frameworks, disciplines, and so-called rules in artistic creation? By which methods do we reshape the canon? The title of the workshop is a reminder of the reflections of a signalist poet Miroljub Todorović, while joining in discussions and practice would reflect on the critical practices of avant-garde poets. We will therefore discuss ways of artist self- organization, particularly cooperative models, and specifically an international art cooperative currently in the process of being founded within the project Shared Visions. Who do we address through such collective activities, and why? What are the principles and values of a cooperative, and how does it function economically? Does the mode of organization influence the mode of artistic production? We will also speak about experiences emerging from workshops and conversations with artists in Serbia, the region, and across Europe. Is there meaningful communication between local initiatives/institutions and people, where citizens are participants rather than merely users?

The workshop will be held in Kragujevac, in the FILUM printmaking studio located in the basement of the First Kragujevac Gymnasium, during the weekend celebrating World Poetry Day, March 21 and 22, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. on both days (with a lunch break). The workshop is jointly organized by Shared Visions and Klub Podzemljica, with poet Maša Seničić participating as guest mentor.

Up to 30 participants will be accepted. Travel and accommodation support may be available for up to 10 artists. Those traveling from afar may arrive a day earlier. Applications are open until March 15 and are available at the following link: https://forms.gle/7mbcMRwp8jtsTVxk8

Shoresy Season 5, Episode 2: The Great One. Hulu, 2026

See 100 Word reviews of previous episodes here

After the self-contained season premiere, the second episode slapshots the plot, skating most characters back into action. We even get a phone call from Sanguinet, whom we haven’t seen since season three. Don’t get too excited, Harlan Blayne Kytwayhat is not returning.

The Blueberry Bulldogs’ league is shutting down, their barn is flipping to basketball, the Europeans are beating North American teams, and Shoresy is back in the television studio. Shoresy is a generational talent at banter.

This show is too smart to play the upcoming xenophobia straight to the net. Stay tuned. And, oh yeah, Wayne Gretzky.

Stream it.

#Shoresy #ShoresySeason5 #PrestigeTV #Hockey #ComedySeries #Hulu #LetterkennyUniverse #TVReview #Larrys100 #100WordReview #100DaysToOffload

Some of my happiest memories from growing up were people sitting with me, or even just saying hi, simply because I looked lonely. Most of the time, it was people I didn't know.

Never doubt the power of a small act of kindness.

Jeg har bodd på Søndre Nordstrand i snart 36 år nå. Siden 1990. Det er en hel mannsalder, det. De to nevøene mine bor også i Oslo: den ene er brannmann og den andre er politimann, og vi er stolte besteforeldre for alle barna deres. De har tre andre besteforeldre i tillegg til oss, men den siste besteforelderen, min svoger, døde like før barnebarna ble født. Da ville nevøen min at vi skulle være bestefar og bestemor.

Og det ville være oss en glede. Vi bor jo også såpass nærme.

Men jeg er ikke fra Oslo. Ikke egentlig. Jeg er fra Hallingdal, og er det noe jeg er stolt av, er det det. At jeg er hallingdøl.

Ingenting er helt som Hallingdal. Det er liksom det som er hjemme tross alt.

-Uno de los aspectos más difíciles de la naturaleza de lo que llamamos realidad -dijo el decano Laurence- es el instrumento mismo con el que tratamos de definirla, o sea la mente.

-No -dijo el profesor Zambuessi-, ese no es el problema central.

Nos quedamos helados. Era increíble que alguien interrumpiera a nuestro decano.

-Ya estoy cansado -continuó Zambuessi- de que nos trate de enredar con sus patrañas. El problema aquí es el dinero y no daré mi voto para más investigaciones sobre la mente o sobre cualquier asunto de este tipo. Ni un céntimo más.

No todos pensábamos como él; quizás sí, los más jóvenes. Pero nadie deseaba ofender al decano. A fin de cuentas, los allí presentes, de un modo o de otro, le debíamos nuestras carreras científicas.

-No, si yo lo entiendo, señor Zambuessi -dijo el decano-. Cómo se ve que le falta experiencia. Usted no tiene hijos estudiando en la universidad, ni hijas con tres hijos, casadas con desempleados de larga duración, ni mucho menos nietos que necesitan un Porsche. ¿Cómo va a entender lo que yo digo?

En ese mismo instante, la abrumadora mayoría de los presentes nos pusimos de pie y ovacionamos a nuestro querido decano de un modo sencillamente atronador.

Kopje

Ergens in de catacomben van het VVA studio complex ligt Van Voorbijgaande Aard in de kraam slaap kamer, hevig zwetend, oververhit, pijn lijdend om hem heen collega's allen uitgedost in maagdelijk licht gebroken hemelswit die Aard ondersteunen bij zijn werkzaamheden. Pers, Pers, Pers Aard, Pers, Pers, Kom op, het is er bijna ik zie het Kopje al... Blijf ademen en Pers..

Pers, Pers, Pers Chef Pers!

en Aard maar puffen, steunend en soms zelfs kreunend, hopen dat het snel over is en dan weer terug kan naar de betere delen van zijn complex, daar waar de kijkcijfers heersen, waardering te zien is in cijfers, nummers die uitgaves mogelijk maken... Aaaardgh, Aaaaardgh

Ja daar, daar, Aard, het is zover! Het is Af. Gefeliciteerd omroep hoofd het is er.

Aard kan de nieuwsgierigheid niet bedwingen en vraagt Wat is het?

Een stukje Aard, een echt stukje. zegt zijn immer loyale medeklinker werker trots.

Ah, eindelijk, het leed is geleden. Mag ik het eerst zien?

Het hoofd publicatie write.as zegt 'Eh, neen, het staat al online, het is niet langer de uwe, dat weet u toch.'

De Aard knikt, wordt kleiner en kleiner in de kille witte uit kraamkamer terwijl de rest om hem heen lijkt te groeien, hij krimpt in tot een laatste puntje en lost weer op in zijn werk.

25 February 2026

Still outside (working title): found a stack of old Polaroids over the weekend that I hadn't looked at in probably a year, and instantly there was a freshness to their format from a painting perspective—the image as a container being contained. Thought of Marisol's 1961 Family Portrait lithograph, of approaching and reacting to the edges of the source. Ken price too, value absolutes. Mine was of a scene of surfaces supporting half-emptied glasses and bottles at Yena's old flat in Vauxhall. Suspended pheromones.

I think I’m moving on. Well I guess that’s stupid because obviously I am, But it’s weird. I think today I was kind of like upset at her and angry. Like obviously not actually her but, the idea of her. I kind of hope I don’t ever see her again, just because it would make moving on way easier. Not cause I’m mad at her. But I guess I just feel like she’s someone that just didn’t ultimately treat me well, not because she meant to hurt me. But just because I deliberately chose her. I think I really just got swept up by the attention and codependency. I saw someone saying that you should do things for them because you love them, not do things for them so that they love you. And I don’t think I did things for her to try to make her love me, but at the same time I think I realize how fundamentally fragile the love felt. I think I felt like I had to constantly be there, or like massage her thoughts through reassurance, acts of kindness, or things like that. If we didn’t have time together, I would probably think that something was wrong and that I would start to worry about the relationships health. And that’s not right. Our relationship should be strong and healthy regardless of some distance once in a while. I think I’m also noticing how I wanted to use L as a substitute for that codependency, and I also notice how part of me wanted to cut ties to avoid being hurt again and set that boundary. It’s really easy to get swept up by someone else like that. I don’t think I should ghost or anything like that, but maybe I should be way more aware of that.