As time passed, I began to heal myself—or perhaps I began to understand what healing was asking me to do. It did not arrive as one great moment that changed everything. It came in very small waves, each one revealing another part of life that needed attention.

A little healing, followed by a great deal of work

Whenever a small amount of energy began to flow, I immediately noticed something that was wrong, unfinished or neglected. An issue would become clearer. I would understand where it came from, how it affected my life and what I could begin doing about it.

Then I would work on it.

Once that problem had been repaired, another small amount of energy would appear—and with it, another issue would rise to the surface.

That became the rhythm: a tiny amount of healing, followed by a great deal of practical work.

Slowly, life became better. The creations became more beautiful and more complete. Long-standing problems were finally addressed. Things that had remained unfinished for years were repaired, organised or brought to a close.

When the larger personal problems began to loosen

As some of the heaviest problems became smaller, my attention began to expand beyond my immediate life.

When I tried to heal, I no longer felt only my own unfinished concerns. I started thinking about larger difficulties—problems affecting other people, societies and the planet—and wondering which of them might be eased if people had more freedom, knowledge, care and time.

At the same time, another feeling appeared.

I began to realise that I might finally be able to get my wings back.

Healing no longer seemed to require keeping me grounded in one place, working almost every waking hour, seven days a week, for months at a time. The most demanding work was reaching a point where movement could become possible again.

Before, I felt that I had to control every part of my life myself. I had to remain in one place, hold everything together and carry each responsibility alone.

Now the thought was different: perhaps I could move again.

Perhaps I could travel, spend time with others and experience more of life beside them. Perhaps I could become useful in new surroundings, listen to the problems people face and explore what might help.

Could I finally be with other people?

After a lifetime of living mostly alone, another question appeared: could I now live and work beside others?

There are people whose presence feels so beautiful that simply being near them makes life warmer. With the right people, companionship does not feel like a distraction from meaningful work. It feels like part of the reason to do the work at all.

Perhaps I am simply in love.

Not necessarily with one person alone, but with people, closeness, kindness and the feeling of being together. Perhaps I simply want to remain beside beautiful people for longer than an ordinary lifetime seems to allow.

That thought led me somewhere even stranger.

I began to wonder whether I could study immortality.

Perhaps I want to make myself and others as healthy, resilient and long-lived as I can—not because I expect certainty, but because the attempt itself feels worth making.

I would like to become stronger and help others become stronger too. I would like to explore how much health can be preserved, how much life can be extended and how much suffering might be prevented.

Maybe the dream of immortality does not always begin with fear of death. Sometimes it begins with love.

Sometimes we want more time simply because there are people we want to stay longer with.

What does a person truly need?

Perhaps the foundation is much simpler than all of our complicated systems make it seem.

A person needs somewhere safe to exist, people who care whether they are well, enough freedom to use their time meaningfully and the feeling that they do not have to face every difficulty alone.

Perhaps deeper healing begins there—not only inside an individual, but between people.