The Soulful Architect - Life by Design

11/09/2025

09/09/2025

👌🥰

08/09/2025

I once read that in Japan, love isn’t defined by passion, grand romance, or bouquets of flowers on special days. It’s defined by respect for personal space.

In their culture, it’s not about demanding constant closeness or asking endless questions. While we often say: “If you love someone, you must always be by their side,” they believe: “If you love someone, you let them breathe.”

There is even a concept called “oyakake bukaeru” — the silence beside someone. The ability to sit together for an hour without words — not because of anger, but because you feel calm. In many cultures, silence is seen as a problem. In Japan, it’s a sign of depth.

Love there doesn’t mean “always together.” It’s normal for couples to sleep in separate rooms, take separate vacations, or pursue different interests. Independence is not betrayal. Distance is not the end. What matters most is not interfering with each other’s essence.

Happiness is not something demanded from the other person, but the peace you bring into the relationship. That’s why in Japan, divorce rates are lower, there are fewer emotional breakdowns, and less burnout.

Maybe it’s because their relationships aren’t built on consumption, but on respect. On quiet care. On giving each other the freedom to simply be. 🌿

01/09/2025

Different Shades, Same Flame

When marches cry against immigration, what they truly stand for is not unity, but division.

To raise one above another is to forget that, at the core, we are all the same - human beings bound by breath, bound by love, bound by the earth we walk upon.

There is no ‘better way.’
There is no ‘right way.’
There is only this moment, and the next step we take forward together.

The past cannot be rewritten, no matter how hard we try to cling to it. What matters is how we choose to act now. Will we keep repeating the same cycles of fear and separation, or will we dare to stand in the knowing that skin colour, geography, language, and culture are just different shades of the same flame?

When we peel back the layers of any human, no matter how hardened, we eventually find love at the centre. Sometimes it’s distorted, sometimes buried beneath hurt so heavy that it twists the very meaning of love into something flawed, even destructive. But it’s there.

And so, the challenge is not to fight one another, but to see one another.
To recognise that standing up for only one will always fracture us, but standing up for all will always unite us.

We are one people. One story. One future.
And the step we take together now decides the kind of world we pass on tomorrow.

20/08/2025

The mind is everything…

When you say “I am anxious” or “I am depressed,” you unknowingly fuse your identity with the emotion. It feels permanent, like it’s who you are.

But shifting the language to “I’m experiencing anxiety right now” or “I’m moving through sadness” creates space. That space reminds you:

• Emotions are temporary states, not fixed identities.
• You are the observer of the feeling, not the feeling itself.
• If it’s something you’re experiencing, it can also change and pass.

16/08/2025

'Lost in Translation‘

The cycle repeats.
Not because we’re broken,
but because we’re still bleeding from wounds
we promised we’d never pass on.

A mother,
unloved in the way she needed,
clutches her child with all she has.
But her love comes wrapped in fear,
tied tight with sacrifice,
with strings knotted in silent expectation.
“This is love,” she says -
but it stings.

A father -
gone before he ever left,
teaching silence like it was survival,
making a home out of swallowed emotion.
He didn’t say much,
but he showed me how to disappear.

Then the next generation rolls in:
A father stays.
But he drinks.
Because he’s drowning in the shame
of not being enough.
He stays - but he’s not present.
He gives what he can,
but his hands are full of ghosts
and expectations that never fed him either.

And here we are -
the cycle-breakers,
the warriors with trembling hands,
vowing:
“My child will never feel what I felt.”

And they don’t.
But they feel something else.
Because we are still parenting from the wound,
not the scar.

We over-love.
We over-correct.
We build cages out of kindness,
cast shadows in the name of safety,
say “yes” because “no” used to bruise us.
And still… it hurts.
Still… it lands as pain.
Because the wound is loud,
even when the voice is soft.

But if you go far enough back -
back through the generations,
past the yelling,
past the silence,
past the shame -
you’ll find it:

Love.
Always love.

Twisted, tangled, mistranslated -
but love,
desperately trying to speak.

And maybe…
maybe we don’t need to erase the pain
to break the cycle.

Maybe we just need to understand
that even pain had a language,
and it was trying
to say I love you
all along.

Soulful Architect

05/08/2025

🎩✨ “MUCHNESS.” What is it… and when did we lose it?

In Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland, Alice falls into a world that challenges everything she thought she knew—about herself, about reality, and about what’s possible.

At one point, the Mad Hatter looks at her and says something unforgettable:
“You’ve lost your muchness.”
It was whimsical. But it was also painfully true.

💡 But what is “muchness”?

It’s that inner spark. The raw essence of who you are.
Your dreams, your courage, your creativity.
It’s what makes you you—not the version the world wants, but the one that once believed in impossible things before breakfast.

We lose our muchness when we stop dreaming.
When we trade wonder for routine.
When we stop believing we’re capable of changing our story.

That’s what happened to Alice.
She forgot her magic—until she remembered who she really was.
And that changed everything.

🌈 So here’s your reminder:
Don’t lose your muchness.
Don’t let the world shrink your spirit.
Stay wild. Stay curious. Stay full of wonder.

30/07/2025

Let It Spill

My back.
It’s gone again.
My base. My core. My essence.

I remember when I was a child -
Something wasn’t quite right.
A little twinge,
A whisper of pain
Threaded through the center of me.
But who would hear me?
Nobody.

So I laid down straight.
Waited for the bits to click back in.
And they did.
But let’s face it -
They never truly fit.
They just found somewhere to rest.
Not belong.
Not hold.

And so, they ruptured.
They spilled.
They reached for a space
They were never meant to hide in.

Surgery was the answer.
Cut that s**t out.
It doesn’t sit right.

And now again -
It’s spilling.
Because it still doesn’t sit right.
Not in this world.
Not in their boxes.
Not in what’s expected.

But that’s ok.

I won’t cut.
Let it spill.
Let it offend the masses.
Let it taint their tidy rules
And their shaky sense of right.

This spine -
These roots -
This blueprint
Is built different.

And sometimes it aches.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel right.
But that’s ok too.

Let it spill.

Because its spillage
Tells the story.
And this story
Changes everything.

I won’t cut it out.
Not anymore.

Let me tell it whole -
Let it purr.
Let it roar.
With all its pain,
All its scars,
All its unfiltered truth.

This is me.
See me.

The Soulful Architect