If I Were at My Real Place
Linas JuozenasShare
Diary — scratchbook field notes
If I Were in My Real Place as a Healer
A page about speed, responsibility, and what support really means when the work is bigger than money.
Sometimes I try to picture the timeline where I’m not “almost there,” not “building the runway,” not patching the engine mid-flight — but standing exactly where I’m meant to stand: in my actual place.
Right now, by my own inner measure, my healing sits at about 1%. That number sounds small until I remember what it took to move from 0.000% to 0.001%.
That shift took a lifetime: going through bushes, through pain, through “magic” that doesn’t look magical from the outside. It looks like persistence. It looks like refusing to quit.
So if I’m at 1% now… what I can do is already beyond what most people would believe. And the truth is: it’s no longer tiny. It’s thousands of times more than it was a decade ago — and infinitely more than it was at the beginning.
The curve changed after the first impossible movement.
not linearIf people understood what this is — not in theory, but in their bones — their instinct would be simple. They would say: heal. Study. Rest just enough to keep the machine alive. And then do the work again. All day. Every day.
Not because I should be worshiped. Because the math is brutal: suffering is wide, time is short, and the work is real. In that other timeline, there’s an infinite line of people — and the possibility of mass restoration — until I master healing at scale and find better ways that don’t require my body to be a conveyor belt.
Would I be happy? Would I be sad?
I don’t know.Because right now I’m free to do what I want — and in that other timeline, I’d be giving my life to people in the practical sense, the kind where time disappears the moment you’re needed.
And receiving support… that’s different.
A teacher of mine once warned me that support can get clumpy. And it’s true. Some people start wanting something back — like they own a piece of you. But real support is supposed to be relief: an hour of my work, a day, maybe a week — not a lifetime hook of “you owe me.”
I already give everything for free — but “free” doesn’t mean it costs nothing. Time costs. Focus costs. Health costs. Money costs. The healing people receive is real.
And I already have results. This isn’t experimental anymore. I know what to do. I know what happens, and how it happens. At this point the real question isn’t if it works — it’s: do you want it faster? In your life. In real time.
Still, I can’t accept everyone who wants to visit. That’s why I keep rushing toward mass restoration — better methods, safer structures, systems that don’t require me to be in ten places at once.
So when it comes to support: I haven’t let anyone help me my whole life. And if I ever do receive help, it has to be with no strings attached.
Gift economy.
If you value it, you gift it. And karma wants to returns, and maybe it will. Either way, the gift stays clean.And yes — even if everyone helped… we could still fail. People act like time is infinite… until it suddenly isn’t.
It’s life, not a game.
But then another thought slips in — quieter, almost hopeful.
Maybe it wouldn’t even take thousands of people. I might only need a few people — or a few teams — people I could actually learn with.
Because it wouldn’t be only healing. It would be evolution: updating them, bringing knowledge, skill, and understanding they didn’t have before. Not just lifting the weakened — but updating the strong and beautiful too.
And then the next question rises: what can the world even give me in return? Not much, honestly.
What money can’t do
Even a trillion euros doesn’t buy healing, evolution, or love. Past a point, money becomes responsibility — factories, systems, weight.
What I actually need
Safety. Care. Enough money. Respect. Clean water. Good food. Real rest. Comfortable clothes. A kind pillow. A better PC. Hugs when needed. Friendship.
The whole list is counted in thousands, not millions. Measured in quality, not quantity.
And I’m already going as fast as I can — because somewhere out there, suffering can be softened, time can be returned to people, and lives can be extended. When you can feel that possibility, walking slowly has a cost.
If the world wanted to help, it wouldn’t need to crown me. It would lift what steals my strength:
- chores that drain energy with no meaning
- unstable logistics and unnecessary stress
- the constant background noise of “survive first”
- work I don’t need to be spending my life on
Protect my time. Protect my health. Build a quiet perimeter so the work can be done cleanly.
Because the work isn’t only sessions. There are studies to be done — experiments, observations, proof that can survive a skeptical world. If healing is real, it deserves structure.
And yes… I can see how this becomes a strange “dream of life,” where people want longevity, where countries communicate for wellness — where support isn’t only compassion, but strategy.
For me, it circles back to a quieter truth: my body is temporary — so I’d better hurry and master my studies, so I can change that equation for myself and others — and my soul is in a rush.
Healing is not the final destination. It’s one subject in a much larger school — a tool I’ll need in other worlds I still want to explore while I’m alive. I’m becoming something — a being of love, a traveler, a student — and healing is one chapter of that evolution.
It just happens to be a chapter that benefits everything: people, plants, animals — the whole living field.
For now, I work like everyone else — to buy time, to secure space, to keep studying, to keep healing without collapsing.
So I’ll keep piloting my ship the best I can.
And if the winds come — even storms, even tornados — I’ll try to let them help me instead of break me.
Because I didn’t come here to sit still. I came here to move.