I dream of a home by a quiet lake,
Where trees surround, and the air I take
Is filled with the scent of fresh-brewed grace;
Black coffee rises as I wake.
Inside, the rooms glow with memories,
Stories of love, of hope, of peace;
Each wall bears stains of joy, long pressed,
And pillows, blankets, throws made of cotton and fleece.

The kitchen, warm; a hearth for all,
Where stomachs are full and laughter calls;
Conversations linger, soft and sweet,
As friends and family share their seats.
The walls are littered with art that brings;
A reflection of life, of the little things;
Moments captured, frozen in bliss;
Like the image of our very first kiss.

A library waits, its wisdom always near,
Photo albums filled with memories so clear;
A treasury of knowledge close at hand,
Stories shared with the closest of friends.
The pantry brims with all we need
To craft each meal, to plant each seed;
Enough to nourish an endless fire,
A feast for love’s unquenched desire.

Outside, a garden stretches wide,
Green with life, where dreams reside;
Tall trees shade a tranquil view,
Of water glistening, bright and true.
A wooden dock cradles our boat,
Together we drift, we dream, we float;
From one soft moment to the next one,
Our love is the current,
reminding us where we’ve come from.

Beneath the sun, a spot I find,
To write, to read, to free my mind;
The space to dream, to plant, to grow,
To craft the life I’ve come to know.
The grass a canvas, green and bright,
A valley of hope, a dream in flight;
Where changing thoughts take solid form,
New ideas and themes are born.

And as the stars like fireflies glow,
We sit by the fire’s final show;
The flames die down, the embers fade,
And call us to our peaceful shade.
I dream of a home by a quiet lake.
Where we are proud of the life we make.

— Sincerely, Boris

Every time I see you, it’s the first time again;
like déjà vu rewritten in softer shades,
and I fall, surrendering as though I’d never known
the way you can both heal and haunt me.

I step into this circle, unbroken and sweet,
each glance a welcome wound, a familiar ache,
as if my heart has never learned
the shape of letting go.

I’ve tried to leave,
to walk ahead or fold back in,
but I’m tethered to the memory of you,
an orbit I can’t escape,
falling faster each time I rise.

I want to remember you less, but find myself
lingering in every echo of your name,
bound to relive each look, each touch;
this time loop of you, pulling me deeper,
until it’s all I know,
and all I want to leave behind.

— Sincerely Boris

In my journey as a father, I have come to appreciate the profound interplay between masculinity and feminism, two forces often misunderstood as opposing but which, in truth, are deeply intertwined. Raising my spirited 9-year-old daughter has made this understanding both urgent and intimate. I see the questions in her bright eyes, her quiet determination to navigate a world that does not always favor her, and I feel the weight of my role in shaping a future where she can thrive; unapologetic, unburdened, and unbound by the limits of societal expectations.

Feminism, I’ve realized, is not a challenge to masculinity but its complement, offering a lens through which our shared humanity becomes clearer. To embrace it is to deepen our collective understanding, to confront privilege without shame, and to extend empathy as a bridge between differences. As I teach my daughter about respect and equality, I encourage her to see the world not only through her own eyes but also through the eyes of others, understanding both the struggles women face and the unspoken pressures placed upon men. This dual awareness fosters a harmony where all genders can flourish.

The extraordinary women in my life have been my greatest teachers in this. Mentors who guided me with wisdom, a sister whose resilience inspires me, colleagues who challenged and elevated me, and friends whose strength and grace embody the courage it takes to reshape the world. They have shown me that liberation is not merely an abstract ideal but a lived practice; a daily act of courage, care, and connection that transforms everyone it touches.

Their stories, and my daughter’s unfolding one, have taught me that equity requires more than admiration or education. It demands action. I must unlearn the biases I inherited, redefine love as a force for transformation, and actively contribute to dismantling the interconnected systems of oppression that stifle our potential. True liberation cannot exclude anyone; it must honor every voice, embrace every struggle, and envision a world where my daughter’s humanity; and that of all women; is celebrated rather than questioned.

To create this world, I am redefining traditional gender roles within my home, encouraging my daughter to explore her passions free from the weight of convention. I aim to nurture her belief that she can forge any path, whether it aligns with societal norms or not. This empowerment is essential not only to her independence and resilience but also to her capacity to challenge stereotypes and advocate for herself and others.

As I reflect on these lessons, I see that this journey is not mine alone. It is a collective effort; a tapestry woven from love, strength, and shared purpose. Looking into my daughter’s eyes, I am reminded that the work begins with us, with the choices we make daily to foster understanding, support, and empowerment. Change begins with love and ends in freedom.

Equity is not just an aspiration but a necessity, a vision of a world where every individual is valued for who they are, where collaboration replaces competition, and where justice is not an ideal but a reality. By embracing this philosophy, I hope to nurture a future leader who will navigate life with wisdom, empathy, and strength, carrying forward the torch of transformation that will illuminate the path for generations to come.

— Sincerely, Boris

Growing up as an immigrant from São Paulo, Brazil, I was eager to assimilate into what I thought of as the quintessential Canadian life; road hockey, the Toronto Blue Jays, the peaceful multiculturalism I heard so much about. My early years in Canada were shaped by the simple desire to belong, to be seen as a regular Canadian kid. I was proud to be here, in what I viewed as a land of opportunity and kindness. But as I grew older, so did my understanding of this country’s complicated history, one that runs deeper than the friendly stereotypes I had once embraced.

It took time to see that this land I was so eager to call home had a much darker past, particularly in its relationship with Indigenous communities. There’s a truth in this country’s story that unsettled me as I learned more about the legacy of colonization, residential schools, and the continued struggles of Indigenous peoples. At first, it was hard to reconcile these facts with the Canada I thought I knew; a nation that promised fairness, equality, and respect for all. But the more I learned, the more I realized that this sanitized version of Canadian history was a privilege, one that ignored the voices of those who had suffered most under colonial policies.

The discomfort I felt wasn’t just about acknowledging the wrongs of the past; it was about realizing how deeply ingrained these issues still are. Education systems, for example, continue to perpetuate narratives that erase or distort Indigenous perspectives. This wasn’t just a problem of the past but a reflection of the ongoing challenges in how we talk about reconciliation, truth, and justice. How can we truly reconcile when the systems that shape our understanding of the world; our schools, our media, our public discourse; still operate from a place of ignorance or denial?

I’ve come to see that my immigrant experience, my desire to fit in and feel a part of this country, is a small part of a much bigger conversation. I wanted to be “Canadian,” but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. Now, I see that being Canadian isn’t just about belonging to a multicultural mosaic; it’s about recognizing the responsibilities we all share in addressing the injustices that continue to affect Indigenous communities. It’s about asking ourselves what kind of future we want to build; a future that is truly inclusive, one that honors the truth rather than glosses over it.

For me, this journey of learning has been about more than guilt or shame. It’s been about responsibility. It’s not enough to simply know the truth; we have to ask ourselves what we’re going to do with it. How do we challenge the systems that have caused harm? How do we ensure that education becomes a tool for real understanding and change, rather than a means of maintaining the status quo?

As someone who has benefited from the opportunities Canada provides, I feel a deeper sense of accountability to help create space for the stories that haven’t been told; stories that are central to what this country truly is and could be. We owe it to ourselves, to our children, and to the generations of Indigenous peoples who have carried these burdens for far too long. This isn’t just a matter of reconciliation; it’s a matter of reimagining the very foundations of what it means to be a part of this place, to learn from its past and work toward a future that is genuinely just.

In many ways, the more I understand this history, the more my love for this country has deepened; not in spite of its flaws but because the path forward requires all of us to engage with the truth. It’s a love rooted in the hope that we can do better, that we can build a nation that not only acknowledges its past but works actively to heal from it. That, to me, is the essence of what it means to belong to this land.

–

On this first National Day
for Truth and Reconciliation,
I stand with all Canadians,
bearing the guilt of a history
marked by loss and silence,
the innocent lives of Indigenous children
whose spirits still call for justice.
We are bound by the obligation
to grieve, to remember,
and to carry the weight of remorse,
for the lives lost, the futures stolen,
and the deep scars left behind.
In this moment, we commit
to accountability and retribution,
to the work that remains;
to heal, to rebuild,
a society where all are seen,
and the echoes of the past
no longer go unheard.

— Sincerely, Boris

Today, I close a door left open wide,
But never locked, in case one day, you seek
To return to the place we called our own,
A space once shared, now distant yet near.

On my side, memories linger, healing
From the bond we nurtured, fragile yet full;
But missing still, a knock from the other side,
A sign that you remember too.

On your side, your hand lingers on the handle,
Hesitant, unsure if the past is worth revisiting,
Afraid it may remind you of a love once tender,
That slipped through our fingers like sand.

Our hands meet; two souls on opposite sides,
Turning the **** together,
Opening the door once more.
What begins as a polite greeting
Melds into an embrace,
A hug that stretches time,
Filling the air with memories.

We are carried back,
To a time when we stood on the same side of the door,
Happy, united, alive in our shared warmth.
We leave it unlocked,
For whatever future may come.

A door is just a door;
And though we close it now,
It will never be locked,
For the love and friendship we once knew,
Still lingers, waiting, on both sides.

— Sincerely, Boris

For much of my life, I found myself overextended, giving in to requests and demands that left me drained and resentful. My energy was siphoned away by others, leaving me little time or space to tend to my own needs. In the pursuit of approval, or perhaps the avoidance of confrontation, I became a servant to the expectations of those around me. Yet, I realized that this servitude was not born out of obligation, but from my own inability to say “no” — a simple word, yet one that carries profound weight.

Learning to say “no” is, at its core, an act of self-preservation. It is not a rejection of others, but a reclamation of my time and energy. It is a statement of my boundaries, a way of asserting that my needs, desires, and well-being are just as valid as those of the people who ask for my help. The first step was recognizing that I am not responsible for meeting every expectation placed upon me. In fact, every time I said “yes” out of guilt or fear, I was betraying my own priorities, eroding my own autonomy.

The key to refusing others lies not in bluntness, but in clarity and conviction. To decline with grace, I needed to acknowledge that I am entitled to protect my time. By doing so, I discovered that I can offer more to the world when I am not constantly exhausted or overwhelmed. In reclaiming my ability to say “no,” I opened up a reservoir of energy that could be redirected toward the things and people that matter most to me. It was not selfishness, but rather a conscious decision to steward my own resources wisely.

I also learned that guilt has no rightful place in this equation. The discomfort that arises from setting boundaries is temporary, and it pales in comparison to the long-term depletion caused by over-commitment. Others may not always understand, but their approval is not what defines my worth. There is immense power in standing firm, in recognizing that I cannot be everything to everyone. Saying “no” is an act of integrity; to myself, and in turn, to those who truly depend on me.

By understanding the limits of my own capacity and cultivating the courage to enforce those limits, I now live with greater intention. Every “no” is a door that I close so that I may focus on the doors that truly lead to the life I want to create.

–

If you could hear the music once more,
Would you take my hand to the dance floor?
Would we recall each step we knew,
Or falter on the path we never grew?

Would I grasp at the chance,
To share with you this last dance?

I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t.
I won’t.

For this last dance belongs to a heart worthy of my embrace.

— Sincerely, Boris

We grew up in the same small town,
summers brushing by like strangers.
One day, you came by during band practice,
and wrote down titles of my CD collection,
and I smiled.

Years later, we crossed paths in Toronto,
you, studying to heal others,
We never named what we were;
sleepovers, meals shared,
your love for my cat, our weekends together.

I think of you sometimes,
your voice from Europe, the music in bed,
your quirky and dorky self, so unguarded.
And though we’ve drifted,

I know you’re well;
still carrying that quiet grace,
living the life you deserve.

— Sincerely, Boris

I recently met a woman who captivates my curiosity in ways which are both subtle and sincere. She possesses an enchanting smile, one that invites contemplation, and her intellect is a reservoir of knowledge.

Our time together began in simplicity, which brought with it the slow transition from casual exchanges to more intimate encounters and a beautiful friendship rooted in vulnerability and openness. It was just the two of us, seated beside one another at her wooden dining table; an otherwise unremarkable place transformed into the locus of a quiet, passionate moment. There, amidst the remnants of earlier conversations and the subtle hush of the night, we began to truly reveal ourselves, not merely through the words exchanged but through the silences that punctuated them. Our questions, though innocuous at first, grew longer in their responses, drawing us closer, as though the very chairs we occupied were conspiring to bring our bodies nearer. And in time, they did. The space between us vanished, until we found ourselves no longer seated apart but sharing an almost singular presence.

In that instant, as if time itself paused in reverence, our lips met. The kiss was neither hurried nor fleeting, but rather the kind that stretches across the span of hours. Our hands explored, tracing paths not unlike the threads of our earlier conversations; each touch unveiling a new dimension of understanding, as if we were learning each other in a language foreign yet familiar. It was as if our bodies communicated where words could not, translating the intrigue of thought into something palpable and electric.

–

As we sit under the autumn sun,
Our knees brush the earth,
Your eyes trace soft paths between us.

Our children play in the distance;
Their laughter singing a song we both know well.

Between bites of a shared sandwich,
We exchange stories,
Untangling the past and present,
Until we begin to speak of dreams
We had both long forgotten.

In the stillness between breaths,
My hand finds your leg,
And before our children return;
You steal a kiss, quick as a secret.
I smile, and steal it back.

When our children return to the picnic,
Their hands full of discoveries,
We sit, caught in the moment’s pause;
No longer stealing kisses,
But sharing them softly,
As if they belong only to us.

— Sincerely, Boris

Listening, truly hearing, and validating others are more than just transactional actions; they are pathways to deeper connection and understanding. As I navigate relationships in my life, be it as a brother, father, friend, or romantic partner, I recognize the invisible barriers that often obstruct meaningful communication. These barriers are rooted in assumptions, judgments, or emotional distractions that distance us from one another.

With my parents, the distance is palpable. It’s not simply a physical separation but an emotional one, built over years of unmet expectations and miscommunications. Listening, I’ve learned, involves more than just being present; it’s about silencing my inner critic and fears long enough to truly hear them, to understand their perspectives without immediately reacting or defending. This is where the challenge lies: how do I open myself to a history that’s been difficult, without letting it consume me?

My siblings have always been my emotional anchors. Here, I’ve discovered the importance of validation; not just through words but through actions and shared experiences. In these relationships, we’ve built a foundation of trust, and I’ve realized that validating their experiences means offering empathy without judgment, even when I don’t fully understand. In return, I’ve felt their unwavering support through the darkest moments of my life.

With my daughter, as a single father, listening has taken on new meaning. She looks to me not just for answers, but for guidance through her emotions, her thoughts, and her evolving sense of the world. Hearing her is about allowing her the space to express herself without imposing my own fears or expectations. It’s about creating an environment where she feels safe and valued, knowing that her thoughts matter, that her voice is important. I’ve found that validating her as she grows is my way of not only being her father but also being her ally in life.

Friends and romantic partners have presented their own challenges. In my past relationships, I’ve often found myself either shutting down or misinterpreting, letting misunderstandings brew into distance. What I’ve learned is that to truly connect with those I care for, I need to offer them more than just words; I need to offer presence, patience, and the willingness to acknowledge their emotional realities without diminishing them. It’s an ongoing process of learning to hold space for others while also being vulnerable enough to let them hold space for me.

Through all these roles, I’ve come to understand that listening, hearing, and validating are not just tools for better relationships; they are acts of love and generosity. When I strip away my ego and the defenses I’ve built over years of pain and trauma, I see that these practices are what allow me to bridge the gaps that have formed in my life, from my childhood through to the present. They are, ultimately, how I can transform the relationships that matter most to me, starting with myself.

—

There’s a secret to listening, a delicate art,
Where ears become wings and minds become hearts.
It’s not just the words that float through the air,
But the spaces between, the moments we share.

It’s catching the whispers that never take flight,
The thoughts in the corners, the ones out of sight.
Like fireflies dancing in soft twilight skies,
It’s hearing the things that aren’t said with your eyes.

A laugh that feels tired, a smile that’s unsure,
A pause that says “listen,” though nothing is pure.
It’s the music of presence, a soft-spoken tune,
That fills up the room like a warm afternoon.

To listen, my friend, is an act of sweet grace,
A gift without ribbons, no bow to replace.
For love isn’t grand when you shout from above;
It’s the quiet “I hear you” that whispers of love.

— Sincerely, Boris

Act One:

It takes a year to learn loss,
to feel the weight of each day without its rhythm,
what once was, is now only a shadow,
what was here, has slipped away.

It takes a year to understand the space
you still hold in my heart, in my mind.
What was once hollow, now aches with memory.
What was once vacant, is now filled with longing.

It takes a year to fall in love,
and a moment to take it for granted.
What was once ours, has drifted beyond reach.
What was once ours, belongs to the past.

It takes a year to regret the deepest mistake,
to lose everything; even yourself.
What was once within grasp, is now gone,
what once was life, is now distant.

It takes a year to mourn the loss,
to feel again what was missed and forgotten.
What once broke me, has now faded,
what once shattered, is now still.

It takes a year to feel the sting of absence,
to realize the love you held is no longer yours,
and in the stillness of that truth, we find peace,
carving space for new beginnings, for what’s to come.

Act Two:

One year ago today,
I spoke those words,
I never thought I’d say again;
‘I love you,’ and in that moment,
My world had forever changed.

— Sincerely, Boris

I miss the simplicity of slow dancing, swaying with someone under dim lights or even no lights at all, just the music of the moment guiding us. I long for the quiet exchange of handwritten notes, folded corners, and scrawled words that felt more intimate than texting ever could. There’s something irreplaceable about holding hands, feeling the pulse of another life interwoven with your own, a silent affirmation of connection.

I miss the affection; the casual, unspoken touches that say everything. The surprise of it all: an unexpected romantic gesture that brightened the day for no other reason than love. There’s an almost sacred joy in taking care of someone when they’re ill and not feeling themselves, the chance to nurture and be there in their vulnerability.

Cooking meals together, spending holidays together, planning a trip that revolves only around us, reading chapters to one another, carrying your things, buying flowers just because; these small rituals hold so much love in their simple execution. I miss sharing a stunning view with someone who feels the same way about the world, the silent communion that comes from recognizing beauty together.

Every love language matters in romance: the touch of a hand, the words that lift each other up, the thoughtful gifts, the unexpected surprises, the moments of service where we care without being asked, and the time spent simply being. They are all pieces of the puzzle that make romance whole, that make it feel alive and present in every interaction.

—

I miss the fold of your notes,
handwritten, curved,
as if the words themselves
were meant only for us to read.

I miss the simple joy of your hand in mine,
our fingers woven tightly,
a quiet language spoken
through skin and pulse.

I miss the sudden warmth of affection,
unprompted touches that bloom
unexpected, like the harvest in your garden.

The element of surprise,
the way love shows up
in places we never thought to look.

I miss the kitchen conversations,
meals made with laughter
and slow dancing over a simmering ***.

And buying flowers, just because
a day felt brighter with them in your hands.
I miss the view from that hilltop,
how we laid there, silently drinking in the world’s beauty
and found it mirrored in each other’s eyes.

I miss the romance,
the essence of what made us whole,
the moments we froze in time,
just long enough to call them ours.

— Sincerely, Boris

Trust is a fragile thing, and I learned this through the bruises of past relationships. Boundaries were a concept I didn’t recognize, let alone embrace. Throughout my childhood and young adult life, I hadn’t seen trust protected by boundaries; instead, it felt conditional, something that could vanish the moment I made a mistake.

Growing up in a home where my voice was often drowned out, where the lines between safety and fear blurred, I never learned that I had the right to set limits or protect my own space. As a child, I lived in an environment where mistakes felt unforgivable, with my needs and wants taking a back seat to keeping peace or avoiding conflict. That pattern followed me, undetected, into adulthood.

In my past marriage, trust was twisted into something transactional; I gave and gave, bending to make things work, hoping that in sacrificing my needs, I’d somehow earn security. But trust erodes quickly when there’s no boundary to protect it, and by the time we reached the end, it was shattered, scattered in pieces I could barely recognize. Throughout the entire 14-year relationship with my ex-wife, I unknowingly carried the absence of boundaries with me. I tried to be everything I thought a husband and father should be, pouring every ounce of myself into a relationship that quietly depleted me, while she dictated our lives to the smallest detail, and often used them against me. My needs vanished under layers of compromise and concession. Over time, I realized I wasn’t in love with her, but instead tethered by an obligation to uphold the image of a “good husband.”

Boundaries felt selfish; they seemed like walls I wasn’t allowed to build, even as my own well being deteriorated. I had buried my true self beneath the weight of expectations and silent suffering. It took years to realize how damaging that was and how necessary it is to set limits that honor one’s own dignity. After my divorce, I thought love alone would be enough to hold onto trust, but I soon saw how easily trust can be chipped away without boundaries to frame it. It taught me that when boundaries aren’t respected, trust withers, leaving behind only doubt and regret.

I realize now, boundaries are the silent guardians of trust. They keep it intact, protected from the misunderstandings that come when needs go unspoken. When I set boundaries, I’m not only safeguarding my well-being but also inviting others to respect my trust by respecting my limits. Learning to set boundaries has been, in many ways, a journey in rebuilding trust and that boundaries are an act of self-respect. They aren’t barriers to keep people out, but lines that protect the best of who we are. I came to see that in order to show up as a healthy, present father, as a friend, as a partner, and as the person I strive to be, I need to safeguard my energy and my emotional space. Learning to set limits; to tell others where I end and they begin; has been a transformative act of reclaiming myself. I understand now that boundaries are not selfish; they are a declaration of self-worth. I had to understand that without boundaries, trust has no foundation; it’s a vulnerable thing that requires support to stand on my own and they’re about creating a safe space where trust can grow slowly, steadily, and with integrity.

I have come to learn that when I honor my boundaries, I’m rebuilding the foundation of trust in myself. This trust is precious; it’s the belief that I won’t betray my own needs for someone else’s comfort. They’re a promise to myself that I will no longer give away pieces of my peace. And when others respect my boundaries, they earn something rare and valuable; a trust that, this time, feels solid enough to last.

Through my experience, I’ve come to carry three powerful truths about boundaries. First, they are non-negotiable. For too long, I made my needs flexible, prioritizing others over myself. Now, boundaries allow me to define who I am, uncompromisingly. Second, they empower us to say no without guilt or apology. Each ‘no’ is a way of saying ‘yes’ to the life and relationships I deserve. And finally, boundaries are how we honor ourselves and teach others to do the same. They are my compass, helping me navigate life with dignity, pride, and authenticity.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Breaking the patterns of a lifetime can feel like tearing down and rebuilding a house from its foundations. But I’ve learned that setting boundaries isn’t about anger or resentment; it’s about clarity, growth, and love; for myself, for my daughter, and for the relationships I wish to nurture moving forward.

—

Once there was a quiet garden,
filled with colors bright and wild.
It grew best when lines were honored;
a space for each root, each petal, each stem.

For a time, no borders stood,
and flowers tangled, starved for sun,
their colors dulled, their strength pulled thin,
as vines of one drained life from within.

So a gardener placed small stones around,
not walls, but paths for each to grow;
a space to bloom, freely and alone,
to lift their heads, to stretch and know.

In tending gently to each line,
the garden thrived, each flower freed,
and side by side, they grew in kind,
a beauty held by roots, not need.

Boundaries gave them life that way,
together, yet strong, every day.

— Sincerely, Boris

In my journey toward embracing compassion as a way of being, I’ve come to understand that the path to selflessness is not about denying myself, but rather expanding my sense of self to include the wellbeing of others. Every moment presents an opportunity to awaken the heart, to lean into discomfort rather than avoid it, and to cultivate a deep empathy that transcends personal interests.

I’ve learned that the practice of compassion involves recognizing the suffering in the world without becoming overwhelmed by it. It’s about training the mind to meet challenges with patience and openness, seeing others’ pain as a reflection of our shared human condition. When I make a commitment to serve others, I am not striving for perfection but rather accepting my own imperfections as part of the learning process.

Through mindful awareness, I realize that my own difficulties and struggles are a gateway to greater understanding and connection. By confronting fear and vulnerability, I begin to soften my heart, not just toward others but toward myself. Compassionate action is not grand gestures but small, consistent choices to live with kindness, equanimity, and courage. It is a practice of being present, attentive, and fully engaged with life as it unfolds.

The key teaching is that real transformation comes not from external achievements or recognition but from the inner work of shifting from self-centeredness to a broader, more inclusive perspective. True freedom arises when I let go of the need to protect my ego and embrace the interconnectedness of all beings, recognizing that my happiness is inextricably tied to the happiness of others.

—

Compassion is seeing what hurts
and staying close anyway.
It’s the hand that helps you up
without asking for thanks.

It doesn’t turn away
when things get hard,
and it doesn’t fix,
just shows up.

It’s the quiet presence
that makes room for pain,
a choice to stand with someone
even when you can’t solve a thing.

Compassion is simply being there;
eyes open, heart open,
willing to share the weight
for as long as it takes.

— Sincerely, Boris

Sometimes, life comes down to the things left unsaid; the choices we once couldn’t make or the words we were too afraid to say. I’ve thought about this deeply, especially with the echoes of my last relationship, where love became something shared with my daughter too. Watching them together stirred something new in me, something that felt both tender and weighted, knowing how close we all were and the emotions that had layered over time.

In love and life, I’ve realized, timing is as much an enemy as it is a friend. There are relationships you hold in your heart long after they’re gone, because in some way, they’re stitched into who you are. Letting go, I learned, doesn’t mean forgetting. It means honoring what it gave you, allowing yourself to grow around the loss and the memories alike. And part of that growth, for me, has been opening up to my daughter, showing her the sides of love that endure; friendship, loyalty, and the courage to embrace life’s impermanence without resentment.

There’s a quiet strength in moving forward, I think, but it also means having the patience to live with what’s unresolved. Sometimes, the most meaningful connections leave us with loose ends. In those gaps between what we once shared and what remains, I try to find peace; not just for myself, but for the kind of man, father, and friend I want to be. And that, I’ve learned, might be the truest mark of love.

—

In the meadows of my daughter’s laughter,
she found a friend, a mentor, a guide;
a woman who spoke to the world as if every leaf and feather
carried a secret worth holding close.

I’d watch them both, fingers intertwined,
two souls bound in wonder,
eyes wide with the shared love of nature’s beauty.

They made gifts from paper and glue,
sketched treasures and braided wishes into chest full of memories,
as if they, together, could grow a world all their own.

She became more than love,
more than a hand to hold beside mine;
she was someone I’d have proudly called partner;
shoulder to shoulder, raising my daughter with honor.

But that world we dreamt, its warmth and wild simplicity,
is gone now, fading like the sunset that lit their sky.
I look at my daughter, and see traces of her curiosity,
the way they shared secrets I will miss greatly.

It is the saddest truth I carry;
to love what’s gone, and to walk forward in its dissolve.
Yet, for the bond they wove so carefully, so tenderly,
I am forever grateful, and forever grieving.

— Sincerely, Boris

I’ve come to understand that detachment is not abandonment but rather an act of self-respect; a quiet declaration that I deserve peace, that I refuse to be bound by cycles of unreciprocated love or relentless strain.

For 14 years, I tried to keep a relationship alive, mistaking resilience for staying power. I worked tirelessly, and my world narrowed to appeasing, to soothing, to holding on when there was nothing left to hold. I learned how to accept silence where there should’ve been comfort, slept on the floor while trying to sustain what we built together. I lost my sense of worth to a hope that maybe one day, things might change. It took years to see that love shouldn’t be a negotiation, and that the best loyalty is sometimes to oneself.

Stepping away was painful, and the act of never looking back demanded a kind of courage I hadn’t tapped into before. But there’s a quiet power in leaving with grace. I’ve learned that not every path is meant to be traveled forever, and sometimes we honor love most by letting it go.

Recently, I faced this lesson again, standing on the edge of possibility with someone I loved deeply. I wanted so badly to bridge the gap, to bring her back. But in this journey, I’ve realized that love, true love, chooses you back. It should stand beside you, as unwavering as your own will. So I stepped back, choosing myself over chasing what wasn’t reaching for me anymore.

In these moments, I teach my daughter what it means to walk away with dignity. I hope she sees that choosing herself will never be a weakness, but an understanding that we should always honor our own values. We deserve someone who sees the worth in the effort we give, someone who meets us where we are. And until that person comes along, we have our own strength to lean on.

What this has taught me is that walking away isn’t an ending; it’s making space for something better. It’s trusting that when we let go of what harms us, we open the door to what can truly fill us. And above all, I want my daughter to remember: walking away is not a failure; it’s the purest form of grace, an affirmation of our worth, and the promise of something more.

—

He did not surrender,
but chose a gentler path;
not out of weakness,
but the strength to finally let go.

He gave her his heart and soul,
filled the empty spaces with care,
held onto hope for a second chance,
for love and future with patience
until it slipped away.

In the clarity of distance,
he saw the truth he’d hidden from:
that sometimes love must loosen its grip,
not to vanish, but to set free.

So he walked away;
not bitter, nor broken,
but with the grace of a man who knows
that peace and respect weigh more
than a love that no longer reaches back.

And though he carries the sadness,
he feels the weight lifting,
his own quiet redemption,
a testament to the heart
that could have held on forever
but chose instead
to walk forward.

— Sincerely, Boris

In the recent months, I have been reflecting on letting go of someone I loved deeply and how it has been both a challenge and a gift. Though we didn’t share a long history, our connection felt like a rare, enduring bond that had felt like a lifetime of passion and care. In that brief time, I felt truly seen and accepted in a way that gave me hope, as if a new world had opened. Now, in releasing that dream, I’ve come to see that each relationship, whether brief or lasting; has shaped my understanding of how I wish to love and be loved.

Throughout my dating journey, I’ve met incredible people. Each connection has offered unique lessons, insights, and reflections of who I am and who I want to become. There’s a richness to those experiences, even when they don’t lead to lasting partnership. They remind me of the qualities I admire in others and in myself; the qualities that, with time, will align in a way that feels right. Rather than giving up on finding love, I see these relationships as part of a continuous journey that strengthens my vision of the life and love I want to create.

The more I’ve grown, the clearer I’ve become on the ways I want to give and receive love. I’m learning that love, at its best, feels like a balance of freedom and presence, moments of vulnerability and self-respect. As I move forward, I’m more intentional about what I want from a partner; qualities that foster a sense of mutual respect, shared values, and an unspoken understanding. My experiences have shown me that love thrives not when it’s forced or pursued out of fear but when it’s nurtured from a place of genuine connection and trust.

Letting go of a deep love has brought me closer to my purpose, reminded me of my strength, and deepened my faith in the journey.

Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving behind the beauty of what we shared; instead, I carry it with me, allowing it to fuel my hope for the future. I honor what was, release it with love, and step forward with renewed clarity. This journey is far from over; I remain open, curious, and hopeful, trusting that each new connection will bring me closer to a love that feels like home.

—

Heartbreak, a bitter medicine,
teaches me where I ache and why,
where I bend and where I break,
where I must learn to stand alone.

In each loss, a deeper knowing,
a softening to love’s open arms,
and the courage to seek,
again and again,
a love that feels like home.

— Sincerely, Boris

As I navigate through life, I am increasingly aware of the deep connection between living and dying. Each moment serves as a reminder that everything is temporary, urging me to seek the truths within myself.

Facing the possibility of death due to two brain aneurysms was a turning point for me. The thought of having only a one-third chance of surviving surgery forced me to confront my fears directly. I realized that death is not merely an ending; it can also be a gateway to something new. This experience opened my eyes to the importance of embracing every moment and the love I share with those around me.

During my recovery, I reflected on my life in a way I never had before. I encountered vivid memories and emotions that mirrored my thoughts and actions, revealing the depth of my journey. I learned that dying is a transition, a sacred opportunity for change. With each breath, I strive to cultivate awareness and find clarity amid the noise and chaos.

I began to appreciate love and compassion more than ever, understanding that these feelings connect me to everyone else. My actions impact the world around me, emphasizing our shared existence.

I am learning to accept that life and death are part of a continuous cycle; a journey of growth and renewal. By accepting this flow, I have opened myself to new possibilities and deeper understanding. I have found peace in the realization that, despite the uncertainties, life is a precious gift that I cherish every day.

—

In the quiet of the mind, I find clarity,
Life and death intertwined, both a single path.
In the bardo, I encounter my fears,
Illusions dissolve as awareness arises.

Compassion guides me through the unknown,
Love transcends the boundaries of self.
Each moment is a lesson in letting go,
Embracing impermanence, I find freedom.

As I awaken, I see the cycle of rebirth,
In every ending, a new beginning unfolds.
With each breath, I cultivate presence,
And in stillness, I connect with all that is.

— Sincerely, Boris

As a father, I have been entrusted with life’s most precious gift; a love without condition, the privilege to nurture and guide a soul as it blooms into something extraordinary. These fleeting moments are equal parts thrilling and terrifying, each one a gem, etched in the depths of memory like the most sacred of recordings. They capture growth, stumbles, triumphs, and milestones; each step shaping our daughters into resilient, independent women. Women who lift one another, unite in strength, and rebuild a world where they lead with grace and wisdom.

From the moment I first gazed upon my daughter, her eyes met mine with an unspoken question, a silent wonder. She asked a thousand things, yet I could only return the same gaze, full of awe. How astonishing she was; this new life, cradled in my arms, an extension of myself. For every question she had, a hundred more unfolded in my heart. Who will she become? What will her voice carry? How will our love manifest, as she grows?

As the years have passed, she answered each question, both in subtle, fleeting moments; laughter, tears, resilience, dance; and through our conversations, at the dinner table, on swing sets, on our long walks, and in the quiet calm of bedtime.

With each answer, new questions emerge, and so we trade curiosity, passing it back and forth like our own secret language. What kind of friend will she be? What passions will drive her? What books will she like to read? What will our bond mean to her as time moves forward?

She has never hesitated to ask the hard questions; about my failed marriage, my surgeries, my relationships, my fears. And in asking, she would often offer the answers herself. In doing so, she has shown me the depth of her growth, the person I have always wondered who she would become.

I will never cease to nurture and encourage her curiosity, nor will I ever stop embracing the questions she asks. And though I may never stop wondering; what will she do when I am no longer here? Who will be there to care for her? How will she remember me? I know this: her curiosity will lead her, as it has always led me.

Our mission is to foster their intellectual curiosity, teach them the weight of choices, and empower them to know their worth. We show them love firsthand, cultivate their growth, teach them the value of gratitude, and then; when the time comes; we set them free to soar.

–

Don’t clear every hurdle in their way,
or hover close above.
They’ll never find their own way,
if we mistake fear for love.

It’s not our place to smooth their path,
or “snowplow” and “helicopter” away each test.
But to stand beside them and watch them grow,
as they learn to do their very best.

We raise them not for ease, but good,
with hearts both kind and strong.
For in each challenge they will grow,
and learn where they belong.

Let’s guide our children, but let them lead,
and trust them as they make mistakes.
For they must pave a lane for themselves,
to be able to fix what they break.

— Sincerely, Boris

In my journey through mentorship and leadership, I have discovered that teaching is a profound exchange where clarity and engagement become essential. Unlike many of my peers, I wasn’t afforded the privilege of higher education. Yet, this gap ignited a deep curiosity within me, compelling me to seek knowledge through every available resource; both within and beyond the workplace. Each book, conference, white-paper, training module, conversation, and experience became a stepping stone, offering insights that transformed learning into teachable moments.

As I navigated the world of media and advertising, my passion for storytelling emerged as a guiding force. My experiences reveal a commitment to crafting narratives that resonate with audiences, whether through creative campaigns or impactful presentations. I believe that every interaction is an opportunity to illuminate complex ideas and inspire others to engage with them meaningfully.

Throughout my career, I have embraced the role of mentor, nurturing the growth of those around me. I’ve witnessed how the joy of discovery can spark motivation in individuals, understanding that teaching is not merely about imparting knowledge but about cultivating an environment that encourages questions and fosters exploration. Each presentation and public speaking engagement has allowed me to connect with others and unravel complexities with elegance, illuminating paths to understanding.

Reflecting on the exceptional mentors who have shaped my path, I recognize the wisdom that has been passed down to me. Their guidance has equipped me to navigate challenges with purpose and clarity, reinforcing my commitment to creating inclusive spaces where minds can thrive.

These experiences have not only shaped my professional life but also prepared me to teach my daughter. My journey has instilled in me the confidence to share knowledge and nurture her curiosity. As I guide her through the complexities of life, I draw upon my own learning journey, using my insights from both my personal and professional life to emphasize the importance of resilience and creativity. In every interaction, I strive to inspire a love for learning, fostering an environment where she can explore, question, and grow; just as I have throughout my own path.

—

In the skies, a graceful flight,
A formation of geese takes to the light.
With honks that echo, a call to align,
Each bird is a beacon, their purpose divine.

If one stumbles, strays from the way,
The others adjust, a united ballet.
Together they rise, through storm and through sun,
Learning from missteps, for they are as one.

In the dance of their wings, a lesson unfolds,
In the warmth of their hearts, a wisdom that holds.
For in every falter, a chance to inspire,
A chance to grow stronger, to reach even higher.

As leaders, we guide, but in falling, we learn,
To embrace our mistakes, and for growth, we yearn.
Like the geese in the sky, let our voices unite,
In formation, we thrive, together in flight.

— Sincerely, Boris

In the pursuit of lasting, secure relationships, I find myself reflecting on how anxiety has left its subtle, often unspoken imprints across my life. Growing up with a distant relationship with my parents, I internalized early on a sense of unfulfilled attachment, the absence of closeness planting seeds of doubt and a yearning for validation. In the silence of those unmet needs, I began searching for the assurances I never received, hoping that connection could anchor me to something steady.

This desire for security led me into a marriage that, for fourteen years, became a mirror of my deepest fears rather than a refuge. Each day felt like an exercise in survival; measuring my worth against another’s indifference, trying to reconcile my self-worth and patience with a relationship that drained rather than sustained. My anxieties flourished in that space; I was reaching for connection but grasping at emptiness. The experience taught me how profoundly loneliness can exist within a partnership and how silence can erode one’s sense of self over time.

Today, as a single father to my daughter, I am determined to write a different story, to create a life for her filled with the presence and closeness I once craved. I want to show her that love can be secure and kind, that her worth is intrinsic and unshakeable. I am learning, slowly, to offer myself the same assurance I give to her; a steady reminder that my value is not dependent on another’s approval or affection.

In this journey, I am coming to see that true security begins with me, with the quiet work of nurturing my resilience. Rather than allowing my fears to dictate my relationships, I am choosing to embrace them as part of my story, without letting them define its future. Each relationship now becomes an invitation to bring forward a more authentic, calm self. Through this process, I am becoming not only a more present father but a person capable of opening up without seeking guarantees. And in that vulnerability, I find a strength I never knew was mine.

—
​​In quiet moments, I can feel her near,
A light within the dark that holds me up,
Her laughter rising like the dawn’s first breath,
A fragile warmth that steadies broken ground.
Through storms endured, I draw upon her spark,
Her gentle hand pressed firm against my own,
The innocence she guards with steady grace,
Ignites a will to face the world once more.

I walk a road unkind and fierce at times,
Yet find my steps grow firm, my heart unbound,
For in her eyes I see a thousand suns;
Their heat is enough to melt the hardest of fears.

If ever strength were born from flesh and bone,
Then mine arose when she took in her breath;
My will to fight, to stand when all seems lost,
Lies nestled safe within her boundless trust.

— Sincerely, Boris

At 41, having lived through various transitions; born in São Paulo, immigrating to Canada at the age of five, growing up in an often unhappy home, enduring a long and difficult marriage that ended in divorce, and now raising my nine-year-old daughter as a single father; I’ve been compelled to reflect on what it means to grow older with grace. Life has already taught me the weight of loss and the fragility of existence: the loss of my left eye to glaucoma, the two brain aneurysms I survived, and the heartache that comes from broken relationships. Yet, these experiences have not only scarred me; they’ve also shaped me.

I’ve come to realize that aging gracefully isn’t simply about the outward appearance or clinging to youth. It’s a deeper reckoning with time, a quiet acceptance of the changes within and around us. As I navigate the complexities of midlife, I’ve learned to approach each day with a sense of purpose, embracing the wisdom that pain often brings and the clarity that loss can sharpen.

Key to this journey is self-awareness, particularly in how I care for my body and soul. Holistic health is more than diet and exercise; it’s about the harmonization of mind, body, and spirit. I’ve learned to nourish myself in ways that go beyond the physical; through meaningful relationships, through a spiritual practice that keeps me grounded, and through creating space for silence and reflection. These days, my focus is not on controlling the inevitable changes but on responding to them with patience and reverence.

There’s also a new sense of responsibility as a single father. My daughter, with her innocence and resilience, reminds me daily that aging is not a solitary journey. In her eyes, I see the future and feel a renewed sense of purpose to lead by example; showing her how to navigate challenges, how to face setbacks with dignity, and how to love herself even when the world may not.

Aging, I’ve come to understand, is a dance with time. It’s a gradual shedding of the layers we no longer need; old hurts, limiting beliefs, attachments to things that do not serve us. And in this shedding, I’ve found moments of peace. Life has slowed in ways I didn’t expect, and the urgency of youth has softened into a steadier, quieter ambition.

While I continue to work hard; whether for my health, my career, or as a parent; I’ve begun to appreciate the importance of balance. Each morning, I strive to listen to what my body needs, to be more forgiving to myself when I fall short, and to practice gratitude for the moments of connection I share with my daughter, my family, and my close circle of friends.

The art of aging, for me, lies not in denying the process but in leaning into it with grace. It’s about cultivating inner peace in the face of life’s uncertainties, finding joy in simplicity, and embracing the profound beauty in the act of becoming. It’s about loving deeply and living authentically, despite the scars and the struggles. My journey may have been fraught with hardship, but it has also been rich with learning, growth, and the unshakable belief that, even in the midst of it all, there is grace to be found.

–

An aging mentor, in fading grace,
With wisdom etched upon his face,
He speaks of life, of love, and pain,
As time slips by, like autumn rain.

A student comes, week after week,
To listen close, to hear him speak,
Of work, and loss, and growing old,
Of tender truths, both harsh and bold.

The body weakens, fails, decays,
Yet stronger still, the heart conveys,
That wealth is found in those we love,
In ties below and hopes above.

He teaches not to chase the gold,
But seek the warmth that hands can hold,
In fleeting time, find joy and grace,
For death, in life, we all must face.

Through parting words and final breath,
He shows the way to conquer death:
In giving love, we learn to live,
And find in loss, the strength to give.

— Sincerely, Boris

I have learned that much of the pain in our world stems from a system that teaches men to disconnect from their emotions. I am beginning to understand that this conditioning, rooted in patriarchy, compels men to equate strength with emotional suppression and dominance, while vulnerability is seen as weakness. As I reflect on this, I see how it harms not just men, but everyone around them, distorting relationships and stifling love.

I am realizing that true liberation, for both men and women, requires breaking free from these destructive patterns. It is not enough to simply reject patriarchy on an intellectual level; I must also recognize the emotional toll it takes on men, who are conditioned to shut down their feelings and distance themselves from empathy. I have come to see that without emotional openness, without the freedom to feel and express tenderness, men remain trapped, unable to experience love in its fullness.

I have learned that healing requires more than dismantling external structures; it calls for a radical rethinking of masculinity. I am now convinced that men must be encouraged to embrace emotional vulnerability, to reconnect with their capacity for love and empathy. I understand that love, in its most profound sense, is transformative, and that it thrives when we allow ourselves to be open, honest, and unafraid of intimacy.

In this process of unlearning, I am reminded that the path to healing is not solitary. I have realized the importance of creating spaces where men can safely explore their emotions, where they can reconnect with the parts of themselves they have been taught to hide. I am committed to fostering communities that prioritize emotional growth and reject the outdated notions of control and dominance that have long defined masculinity.

I have come to believe that change is not only possible but necessary. It requires me, and all of us, to embrace new ways of being that honor emotional expression and nurture the kind of love that allows us to grow. I am committed to this journey, knowing that it holds the potential to reshape our world into one where love, justice, and connection can flourish.

—

In a world where men must not reveal
the wounds that fester deep inside,
I see now, to heal, we must unseal
the softness that we’ve been denied.

The path is not for men to dominate,
but to embrace what makes us whole;
to find the grace in open hands,
and free us from our guarded souls.

In this, I trust, there is a way
where justice, love, and truth align.
Through courage, we can clear the way
and let our hearts entwine.

— Sincerely, Boris

Life is a collection of small moments, and within them, we find the essence of our existence. I’ve learned that comfort comes not from a place of constant joy but from an understanding that emotions, like the tides, ebb and flow. The key is acceptance; of sadness, of anxiety, of the inevitable uncertainties that life throws our way.

I now realize that healing often comes from unexpected sources, in acts of stillness, in the appreciation of simplicity. A cup of coffee, a walk in nature, reading under a big willow tree; all these carry the power to ground us when the world feels overwhelming. I’ve learned that it’s okay to pause, to take a breath and acknowledge that being alive is itself a victory.

I’ve come to see that comparison is the thief of peace. Life’s paths are varied, and each of us moves at our own pace. By detaching from expectations and external validation, I find a more authentic form of contentment. Resilience doesn’t mean being unbreakable but understanding that we are allowed to be soft, allowed to lean on others when needed. There is strength in vulnerability, in admitting our fears and imperfections.

Ultimately, life isn’t about grand gestures but about how we treat ourselves in the quieter moments. It’s about nurturing our inner peace, about forgiving ourselves when we fall short, and about recognizing that we are enough as we are, in this moment. The journey toward peace is ongoing, but in each step, there is the possibility of grace.

—

In moments small, life shifts and flows,
With highs and lows, as each day goes.
Embrace what comes, both joy and pain,
For nothing stays, and change remains.

In simple acts, in quiet rest,
We find the calm that serves us best.
The cracks we bear, the flaws we show,
Are where the seeds of growth can grow.

We walk our path at our own speed,
No need to rush, no urge to lead.
In softness, strength, in stillness, care,
We’re enough, just as we are, right here.

— Sincerely, Boris

I am fortunate to have been given a second chance at life. After experiencing the same persistent headache every night for five consecutive days, I recognized that something was not right. Upon arriving at the hospital, the staff noticed a concerning spike in my blood pressure, prompting a CT scan of my brain.

The results revealed the presence of two aneurysms, and the medical team needed to determine whether they were ruptured or hemorrhaged. After three painful attempts at a spinal tap, I insisted that the surgeon take over. Unfortunately, the procedure confirmed my worst fears; there was blood in the cerebrospinal fluid, indicating a hemorrhage. Faced with the grim reality of being given only a one-in-three chance of survival, I was urged to contact my family. In that moment, my thoughts were consumed by my daughter, brother, and sister; my entire world.

I awoke two days post-surgery and spent the next fourteen days recovering in the hospital. This harrowing experience profoundly altered my perspective, illuminating the areas of my life that I had neglected; my mental, physical, and spiritual health. I was forced to confront a haunting possibility: a future where my daughter would grow up without me by her side. The weight of that realization was overwhelming.

I am grateful to be here today, having narrowly escaped what felt like my expiration date last April. My daughter and I cherish every moment together, and I approach life with renewed purpose. Since my recovery, I have navigated the complexities of life, experiencing love, heartbreak, and the joys of watching my daughter thrive in fourth grade. I have been rediscovering the beauty of my city and striving to prioritize my well-being through healthier choices that benefit my mind, body, and soul.

Yet, I live with the awareness that I am on borrowed time; a gift not everyone receives. Each day feels like an undeserved grace, a reminder that life is fleeting and precious, and I will never take a moment for granted. This journey has pushed me to not just survive, but to thrive with intention. I am proud of the inner work I have embraced: mindfulness, meditation, journaling, and writing poetry, each practice helping me deepen my understanding of self and guiding me toward emotional clarity. I’ve rekindled my love for reading, finding solace and inspiration in the written word once more. And physically, I’ve committed myself to healthier living; nourishing my body through balanced nutrition and daily exercise.

This dedication to my mental and physical health has been transformative. It is a testament to my resilience and to the hard-fought battles I wage daily to become the best version of myself. I am proud of the progress I have made, and I honor this borrowed time by continuing to grow, knowing that every breath, every step forward, is a victory.

—

I walk among the living, yet I feel
the dark of those who left, who lean in close,
their soft whispers like petals falling.
The day of death; today, I feel them near,
those gone and yet alive in every breath I take.

They know I stood close, brushed the calm brink,
my life offered, a fragile cord severed,
but then, stitched back with thread of borrowed breath.
They gave me seconds spun from their own stillness,
a kindness of the dead to the dying.

In their silence, I hear a call to love and live,
Not with the fury of a man cheated from death,
but with the gentleness of one held tenderly
by unseen faces, those who walk the other side,
yet send their light across to warm my face.

I am a guest here, held by the mercy of the lost,
a witness who owes his heartbeat to their generosity.
For every hour given, I bow to them, thankful.
In each sunrise, I see them wink from the shadows,
their gift of borrowed time; a vow I carry forward.

— Sincerely, Boris

I learned that true healing begins with the recognition of the patterns passed down through generations, woven into the fabric of my emotional life. My childhood experiences, whether painful or nurturing, have shaped my responses to the world, and only by acknowledging the wounds left behind can I begin to free myself from their grip. I must confront the destructive behaviours that have taken root; those subtle habits of self-sabotaging and deeply ingrained fears that seem to guide my actions almost unconsciously.

To move forward, I take responsibility for my emotional growth. This journey requires me to nurture the parts of myself that have been neglected, to offer the care and compassion that were once missing. I have learned to cultivate an inner sense of safety, to build trust within myself, and to challenge the narratives that no longer serve me. Through deliberate self-exploration, I identify the beliefs and emotions that have kept me stuck, and I work to transform them into my greatest strengths.

It’s a process of reparenting; providing myself with the love, guidance, and protection I once sought from others. I gently untangle myself from the trauma that has echoed across generations, and in doing so, I begin to break free from the cycles of the past. Each step forward brings me closer to a more resilient, authentic version of myself, one that is capable of self-empowerment and emotional growth. This isn’t a journey of quick fixes but one of deep transformation, where I learn to honour my past while fully embracing the potential of who I am becoming.

——

I listen closely to his cry,
A truth long hidden, now untied.
With love, I heal the aching past,
And offer peace that’s meant to last.

I break the hold of old belief,
Release the pain, embrace relief.
In every tear, in every plea,
I find the strength to set him free.

I draw my boundaries firm and clear,
Protect the space that I hold dear.
With quiet strength, no longer torn,
The child within me has been reborn.

— Sincerely, Boris

Nearly five years ago, I made the difficult choice to leave a toxic and abusive marriage, a decision that came after realizing, through therapy, that the relationship had never truly served me. For years, I had cared for someone unable to care for themselves, losing parts of myself in the process. This choice took its toll; mentally, physically, and financially; but it was necessary.

I remember telling myself, “I don’t want to be here in five years, stuck in misery and pain.” Now, as those five years draw to a close, I stand as proof of my promise to prioritize happiness; not just for my sake, but for my daughter, who means more to me than life itself. Despite enduring the trials of losing an eye, battling shingles, and surviving two brain aneurysms, I have emerged stronger, healthier, and more grounded than ever before. My resilience is rooted in a deep determination for growth, and in the boundless strength my daughter gives me. She is my constant source of inspiration, my reminder of life’s quiet wonders. Even though she is with me 60% of the time, her presence fills my world completely, showing me; through her compassion, empathy, and curiosity; how to embrace the beauty in every moment we share.

There was a time when she was taken from me while I worked relentlessly to create a stable life for her. I sacrificed time and sleep, fought through my darkest hours, all with one aim: to build a future in which she could thrive. Each sacrifice, each sleepless night, was worth it to hold her close once again.

From the day she was born, I vowed to give her my best, to live up to my full potential as both her father and her friend. And I continue to fulfill that vow every day, cherishing every moment we spend together, knowing that our time is the most valuable thing I have. I take pride in watching her grow into a wonderfully creative soul, a lover of animals, nature, and crafting. She brings so much light into my life, and it’s because of who she is that this journey as a single parent has felt lighter. She has made it easier; not through words, but through the way she simply exists, with a joyful spirit and quiet wisdom that has guided me as much as I have guided her.

There’s an unspoken beauty in how we parent each other, even in moments when we’re not aware of it. She has taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of seeing the world with wonder. Together, we have made homes in new places, and each time, she has helped turn those spaces into sanctuaries, filled with love, laughter, and creativity. No matter where life takes us, I know that home will always be where we are together.

Being a single father has been the greatest gift of my life. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth every challenge. Together, we’ve weathered the storms of separation and divorce, always finding our way back to each other, stronger. As I continue to watch her grow, I find myself in awe of the person she’s becoming. And I will be here, by her side, in every step of her journey, just as she has unknowingly been there for me on mine.

—

Five years ago, I chose the way,
To leave the dark and find the day.
Through struggles deep and through strain,
I found my strength, and peace from pain.

In those many years, nothing felt quite right,
And so I left behind the sleepless nights.
Through deep darkness and trials long,
I found my strength, where I belong.

Her laughter lifts, her spirit shows,
In every moment, love still grows.
Her eyes reflect the world so true,
In her, I see all that we do.

We craft, we build, and shape our days,
In nature’s hands, where beauty stays.
She teaches me, though unaware,
In every smile, in every care.

Together, bound by love so tight,
We’ve turned our challenges to light.
In her, I find my greatest part;
My daughter, friend, my guiding heart.

— Sincerely, Boris

Once, there was a man who felt lost in the midst of his life’s responsibilities and uncertainties. He had spent years chasing success, relationships, and fleeting moments of happiness, but something was always missing. Deep down, he longed for answers, for a way to navigate life with more clarity and peace. At the center of his world was his 9-year-old daughter, a bright and curious soul who brought light to his life. She was his greatest joy and his greatest motivation to find answers; to become a man who could guide her through the challenges that lay ahead.

He began his search by turning inward, realizing that he had never truly been present in his own life. He had always been running toward the next goal or worrying about the past. It was mindfulness that first opened his eyes; he learned to sit quietly and observe his thoughts, letting them pass without judgment. By practicing awareness, he began to truly see the world around him, moment by moment, for the first time. He felt the ground beneath his feet and heard the sound of his breath, and with each passing day, his mind became less scattered, more centered.

It was through mindfulness that he truly learned to savour his time with his daughter. Whether it was sharing stories before bed or listening to her laughter as she played, he practiced being there, fully engaged, letting the weight of the world fade into the background.

As his awareness grew, he started to grasp the idea of impermanence. Everything in life, he saw, was constantly changing. His emotions, his relationships, his experiences, his daughter; all of them came and went like passing cars on a busy highway. Where once he felt frustrated by loss and change, he now began to accept them as natural. This realization allowed him to let go of his attachments to things, people, and outcomes. He no longer needed everything to go his way in order to feel at peace.

He came to understand and realize that his daughter would not stay young forever; her childhood was passing by, moment by moment. Instead of fearing this truth, he embraced it, knowing that every phase of her life was precious. He wanted to show her that change was not something to be feared, but to be accepted with grace, a natural part of growing up. It was through this acceptance that he began to let go of his need to control, finding peace in the flow of life.

This led him to the concept of non-attachment. He understood now that much of his suffering came from holding onto things that were never meant to last. By loosening his grip, he felt a new sense of freedom. He could still love, still care deeply, but without the need to control or possess. In releasing his attachments, he found that he suffered less, and joy could flow more freely into his life.

Learning the lesson of non-attachment, he understood that his role as her father was to guide his daughter, not to cling to her. One day she would grow, spread her wings, and explore the world on her own. Rather than holding on tightly, he wanted to love her fully while giving her the space to become whoever she was meant to be. This shift brought him peace, knowing that love didn’t mean possession; it meant support and freedom.

Along the way, he discovered the power of compassion. He realized that he had been harsh with himself for years, setting impossible standards and punishing himself when he fell short. But as he was kinder toward himself, he found it easier to extend kindness to others. The more compassionate he became, the more connected he felt to the world around him, especially with his daughter. He began to see the pain in others’ lives, recognizing that everyone was struggling in their own way, and his heart opened. Compassion became a guiding principle in how he parented. When his daughter struggled or made mistakes, he responded with kindness and understanding, knowing that these were part of her growth.

But the most profound shift came when he began to question the very nature of the self. He had spent his life building an identity; his career, his achievements, the image he projected to the world. Yet through his journey, he realized that this self he had constructed was fluid, ever-changing. His ego was not a fixed thing, but rather a collection of thoughts, experiences, and beliefs that shifted over time. By letting go of the rigid idea of who he thought he was, he opened himself to growth and transformation. Through this transformation, he wanted to teach his daughter that she wasn’t confined to the labels society might place on her. Like him, she is also fluid, always growing and changing. By understanding this, his daughter could remain open to new possibilities and not be burdened by the expectations of others.

The man also realized that suffering was an inevitable part of life, for both him and his daughter. It was not something to be avoided or denied but rather something to be understood. Suffering was a part of the human experience, but by confronting its causes; desire, attachment, and ignorance; he could learn to live with greater peace. This understanding didn’t mean his life would be without pain, but it gave him tools to face suffering with grace and resilience. He hoped to show his daughter that suffering was not something to avoid, but something to confront with courage, knowing that it, too, could lead to growth.

Through meditation, the man found a daily practice that grounded him. His daily practice of meditation became a cornerstone of his journey. Each morning, before his daughter woke up, he would sit in stillness, finding peace in the quiet moments before the day began. In the stillness, he learned to quiet the noise of the world and listen to the deeper truths within himself. Meditation became his refuge, a place where he could reconnect with his breath, his mind, and his heart. It was here, in this quiet practice, that the answers he sought began to emerge; not from outside of him, but from within, and it was a gift he hoped to pass down to his daughter one day. He imagined sitting beside her as she learned to steady her mind and connect with her inner self, teaching her how to find calm in the midst of life’s uncertainties.

His journey was not about reaching some distant enlightenment, but rather learning to walk through life with more clarity, compassion, and presence. His journey was also about becoming a better father. He didn’t seek enlightenment for himself alone; he wanted to live in a way that would inspire his daughter. He learned that the answers he found were not just for him, but for her as well, so that one day she, too, could walk a path of mindfulness, compassion, and inner peace. His greatest hope was that, when the time came, he could pass down the wisdom he had gained, showing her that the key to happiness was not in the things they accumulated, but in how they learned to live, love, and let go.

The man’s path through Buddhism showed him that the answers he sought were not in achieving or accumulating, but in letting go, in being present, and in cultivating peace within himself. And so, with each day, he continued on this path; not toward a destination, but into a deeper understanding of life as it unfolded around him and his daughter. He had found his answers, not in what he gained, but in how he continues to learn to be.

Amituofo.

–

Today, I release what no longer holds me;
I release those who have drifted away,
and those who stir doubts in my heart.

Today, I choose happiness. I step away from the shadows of toxicity, freeing myself from the burdens I’ve carried far too long. I offer myself the love I so easily give to others, and in that love, I stop the quiet hurt within.

I follow the path of positivity, no longer sinking in the well of my own sorrow. I open my heart wide, letting down the walls I’ve built to protect what’s inside. I accept my flaws and let them shape my growth.

Today, I chose healing. I forgive myself for the times I stumbled.
Today, I step forward with courage.
Today, I walked away from places I have outgrown.
Today, I cherish the gift of my own time.
Today, I chose love for myself.

—Sincerely, Boris

The vintage shop sits quietly, unassuming in the heart of a small and beautiful town surrounded by a body of water and cliffs, its timeworn facade a gateway to a world where old becomes new under the hands of a gifted fashion designer. Inside, the racks are draped not just with garments, but with stories; threads of lives lived, meticulously chosen and revived by a woman whose creativity knows no bounds. She is not just the store’s curator but its alchemist, turning faded fabrics into expressions of something bold and modern.

Her ambition is clear in every stitch and seam. She reimagines each piece, blending the charm of bygone eras with her own artistic vision. To her, these are not mere clothes; they are canvases, waiting for her touch to bring them back to life in ways that honor their past but fit seamlessly into the present.

Her dedication is evident, from the way she moves about her shop with a discerning eye to the late hours spent sketching and sewing in her workshop. In her hands, something as simple as an old jacket becomes a quilted statement, a reminder that beauty, when crafted with passion, never fades; it evolves. Here, in this vintage store, old souls are reborn, one design at a time.

—

In the heart of Elora, she weaves her threads,
A seamstress of stories, where vintage is led.
With eyes that see beauty in worn-out seams,
She stitches the past into tomorrow’s dreams.

Her hands know the fabric, each fold and line,
Crafting with patience, her vision divine.
Upcycled wonders, they whisper of care,
Each stitch a promise, each garment a prayer.

In the warmth of her shop, the old comes alive,
Threads of yesterday help futures to thrive.
She’s more than a tailor, she’s more than a name;
A creator, a giver, her kindness untamed.

— Sincerely, Boris

This past year has been one of the hardest, as I’ve had to navigate the pain of getting over someone I deeply loved. The journey of mending a broken heart has been anything but straightforward. Yet through the struggle, I’ve found that healing isn’t about erasing the love I felt, but about rediscovering myself through the loss.

Heartbreak forces me to confront vulnerability and unearth the resilience that often goes unnoticed in times of happiness. I’ve learned that love, in its intensity, is not just about giving, but also knowing when to let go.

True healing begins not when I forget the person, but when I grow beyond the shadow of the relationship. It’s a process of cultivating self-compassion and nurturing independence, not by denying the pain, but by embracing it. Through suffering, I forge new strength.

Moving forward requires a shift in perspective. Rather than seeing the end of love as failure, I now view it as a transition into self-discovery. It’s an opportunity to reevaluate my values, redefine my aspirations, and focus on the life I wish to create; one rooted in joy, purpose, and fulfillment. Growth may be uncomfortable, but it is through discomfort that I flourish.

I’ve come to understand that love does not abandon; it transforms. It invites me to love myself more fully, to seek happiness from within, and to anchor my well-being in my own spirit. Closure isn’t a single moment; it’s a series of small releases, each loosening the grip of the past.

The first step is acceptance; acknowledging that love, like all things, changes. What once connected us now drifts apart, not out of malice, but from the natural course of life. We are beings in motion, evolving, and sometimes our paths diverge.

I’ve learned to embrace the silence that follows absence. It’s tempting to fill the void with distractions, but in solitude, I’ve found clarity. Sitting with my pain and letting it unravel at its own pace has shown me that the heart has an incredible capacity for healing when given the space to breathe. Each tear is a testament to the depth of my love, not a weakness.

Time, I’ve realized, isn’t the healer; awareness is. Time will pass regardless, but it’s the moments of self-reflection and introspection that allow me to break free from old memories. Pain is not a punishment, but a lesson, each heartbreak teaching me more about myself, my desires, and the love I want and deserve.

Moving on is, in its own way, an act of faith. It requires me to let go of the past and open my heart to the unknown, trusting that something new awaits. In the gentle release, I’ve found peace. By not clinging to what was, I’ve made space for what might be.

The greatest lesson, though, is that love doesn’t belong to anyone but myself. The love I gave and received remains within me, undiminished. Though the person I shared it with is no longer beside me, the essence of that love is a part of who I am and who I will continue to become.

This journey has taught me that getting over someone isn’t about forgetting them; it’s about remembering who I am without them. It’s about finding the strength to move forward, with grace, knowing that love will find me again, perhaps when I least expect it.

—

Healing isn’t forgetting,
It’s growing through the loss.
Love changes, not abandons,
And I rediscover myself.

In silence, clarity sprouts,
Each tear is a mark of strength.
Moving on means letting go,
And making space for what’s next.

— Sincerely, Boris

There is a delicate art in facing fear. In the quiet spaces of my mind, I have often grappled with those deep-seated anxieties; the ones that linger beyond the obvious, like my childhood fear of heights, spiders, or bees. But fear, I’ve come to understand, is not simply an instinctual response; it is an illusion that seeks to disrupt our natural course, distorting reality and filling it with false limitations.

As I reflect on my personal fears, like the fear of disappointing those I love, the fear of being alone, or even the inevitable reality of death, I realize that these emotions, though real, are often exaggerated by a part of me that clings to control. They take root in uncertainty, feeding on the unknown, and that’s where they derive their power. Yet, the key to overcoming these fears lies not in fighting them directly, but in acknowledging them and seeing them for what they are; illusions designed to keep me from my personal growth.

Fear of failure, of not living up to expectations, can be paralyzing. It has, at times, made me doubt my ability to be a good father or to navigate the complexities of relationships. But what I’ve learned is that fear does not define me. It may attempt to impose narratives about inadequacy or isolation, but these stories are not truths; they are interpretations. I do not have to live by them.

The first step is recognizing when fear begins to speak. In those moments, instead of letting it drive my actions, I can choose to stand firm in my understanding of self. Fear may try to whisper that I am alone, or that I might not be enough for those I hold dear, but I now realize that these whispers are merely echoes of past insecurities. They are not the voice of my reality.

To truly cast out fear, I must strip away its falsehoods, stand grounded in my values, and recognize my strength, not in spite of fear, but because I have faced it. By dismantling the illusion, I can step forward confidently, knowing that while fear may exist, it holds no dominion over my choices, my identity, or my future.

In this understanding, I reclaim a more profound sense of peace. Fear is simply a shadow. And while it may darken parts of my journey, it can never overcome the light of my inner strength unless I let it. The power lies within me to confront fear, not with force, but with clarity. And in that clarity, fear begins to dissolve.

—

In the darkness where fear resides,
A whisper calls, a truth confides.
Don’t flee the shadows, don’t turn away,
Embrace the fear, let it have its say.

In uncertainty’s grip, we often freeze,
Yet within that tightness lies the key to ease.
Open your heart, let the emotion of fear flow,
In vulnerability, true courage will grow.

Fear, a teacher with lessons so profound,
In the quiet depths, strength can be found.
Befriend the fear, dance with its might,
For when the moment passes;
we will see the light.

I was born into a world of fear,
Where I grew up to hide my tears.
No steady hands to guide my way,
Only scattered paths I learned to face.
In madness, I sought to comprehend
A life that shifted without end.

I grew too fast, too much to bear,
The weight of truths placed in my care.
Yet through the bruises, I made my stand,
A way to live beyond demand.

No longer tied to what was given,
I carved a path, my own, forgiven.
It wasn’t just to survive the fall,
But to rise and live beyond it all.

Kindness starts within,
where wounds are tender.
When you heal yourself,
you’ll understand others better.

Stay present in the moments
when pain calls your name.
Don’t flee, don’t fight; just stay.
In stillness, strength is quietly gained.

Let your heart remain open,
no matter how it feels.
In the practice of courage,
your spirit gently heals.

— Sincerely, Boris

The experience of growing up always in the grip of fleeting desires has shaped how I approach relationships, even now as a single father in my forties. I’ve often found myself captivated by the allure of infatuation, swept away by the idealized image of another person. This pattern, though intoxicating, has taught me much about the nature of desire and the way it distorts reality.

I’ve come to see that these intense feelings; what I once thought was love; are often projections of my own unmet needs or desires onto another person. These crushes, which often felt overwhelming, were more about the fantasy I created than the reality of the person in front of me. I’ve learned that this yearning is less about genuine connection and more about the emotional highs I sought to escape from my own inner discomforts or unfulfilled longings.

With time, I’ve begun to understand the importance of self-awareness in these moments. What feels like love can sometimes be a fixation on an idealized version of someone, built from the fragments of my own hopes and unresolved emotions. True connection, I’ve realized, must be grounded in seeing the other person as they are, not as a reflection of what I want them to be.

In this journey, I’ve learned to let go of the compulsive need to chase after those fleeting feelings and instead nurture a deeper, more balanced emotional availability. It is about cultivating a sense of wholeness within myself, so that I no longer need another person to fill a void or complete me. This shift has been liberating, though it requires constant reflection and conscious effort. The path forward is not about denying desire but understanding its true source and embracing relationships that allow for growth, mutual respect, and authenticity.
—

Your name constant, lingering in my mind;
All the thoughts of you, I cannot escape;
They echo through time,
where a lonely silence once found its place.

In your eyes, I can I see beyond the universe;
its vastness reflected in their cosmic depths,
where time slows down, remains suspended,
revealing truths I hadn’t thought to seek.

And in your touch, oh, how it lingers;
a quiet fire that burns without need for flame.
It consumes all of me, drawing me closer to you,
where distance stretches, one galaxy to another;
Until I am lost in the warmth of your being.

You are the axis on which my thoughts turn,
the light that bends the edges of my soul.
Yet I know this;
to love you is not to possess,
but to admire the art in simply knowing
you exist, a masterpiece worth holding onto.

You are the one question I cannot answer,
a riddle unraveling in my mind, everyday.

— Sincerely, Boris

In my journey through the depths of human emotion, I have come to understand the necessity of embracing the full spectrum of feelings. I have learned that to truly live, I must allow myself to feel every emotion, without judgment or resistance. There is no hierarchy of feelings; joy, sadness, fear, and pleasure are all woven into the fabric of my being. To reject any part of this tapestry is to reject a part of myself.

Through this reflection, I see that emotional wholeness is not the absence of pain but the willingness to meet it with compassion. When I honor the discomforts that arise, I am granted deeper access to the richness of life, and it is here that I find meaning. Avoiding pain may offer temporary relief, but it denies me the opportunity to grow and evolve.

This path requires vulnerability; an openness not only with others but with myself. I must release the need for control and certainty, accepting that uncertainty and imperfection are intrinsic to human existence. By surrendering to this truth, I find the freedom to be authentic, present, and fully engaged with the world.

In relationships, I realize that emotional intimacy flourishes when both individuals can sit with their own feelings and, by extension, hold space for the feelings of others. The bonds I seek are forged not through avoiding discomfort but through the courage to be seen as I am, in both light and darkness within me.

I have come to understand that emotions are guides, not enemies. They are here to teach me, to lead me toward deeper understanding, connection, and transformation. It is through feeling it all; without numbing, without denial; that I find true liberation.

—

Each emotion has its space,
each one part of what makes us human.
I carry them all,
not as weight,
but as the colors of life.

In feeling them, I find peace;
not by pushing them away,
but by living through each one.

—Sincerely, Boris

In my journey as a marketer and strategist, working within the dynamic world of media and advertising, I’ve come to realize that success is not born from flashes of creative brilliance alone. It is something deeper, a persistent force; grit, that has driven my professional development and growth. It has become clear to me that in an industry where innovation, creativity, and strategy is highly valued, it’s not simply enough to have vision. Sustaining that vision requires dedication, discipline, and the ability to weather setbacks with unwavering resolve.

Early in my career, I believed that raw talent or the next big idea would be the key to success. But with time, I came to see that ideas, much like passion, are fleeting unless coupled with a dogged commitment to execution. Campaigns aren’t made great by the initial spark of inspiration; they succeed through relentless iteration, feedback, and optimization. It’s not the glamour of pitching an idea that creates long-term impact; it’s the persistence in refining it, over and over, even when the outcome isn’t immediately clear.

I’ve learned that in media and advertising, failure is inevitable. Campaigns don’t always hit the mark, trends shift, and audiences are ever-evolving. But rather than being discouraged by setbacks, I’ve grown to view them as critical moments in my professional development. Each challenge, whether it’s a missed opportunity or a campaign that falls short, has become a lesson in resilience. With each, I’ve honed my ability to pivot, to absorb feedback, and to adapt; skills that are as essential as creativity in this fast-paced industry.

In the same way that grit shapes personal success, it’s the cornerstone of professional growth in media. Success is less about having one breakthrough moment and more about showing up every day with determination, ready to push forward despite the obstacles. I’ve seen how those who persist, who learn from failure, and who continuously strive for improvement in their craft are the ones who ultimately thrive.

As I reflect on my career, I understand now that it wasn’t my initial creative spark that defined my trajectory, but my willingness to grind through the mundane aspects of the process, to work toward long-term goals even when progress was slow. It’s this fusion of passion and perseverance that has allowed me to turn ideas into impactful campaigns, and to evolve in an ever-changing industry.

—

It’s not the spark that lights the flame,
But steady hands, day after day.
A mind that bends but will not break,
Through every challenge, for progress’ sake.

It’s not in speed, nor strength, nor flight,
But rising up, time after time.
For grit is forged in quiet strain,
A constant push against the grain.

When all seems lost, and dreams grow dim,
Grit finds the strength to try again.

— Sincerely, Boris

Throughout my journey as a child and as an adult, I have come to realize that trust is not a simplistic or singular decision, but a process. It’s not merely about extending trust to others, but about confronting my inner doubts; both about people and about the plan for my life. I’ve learned that my skepticism and reluctance to trust stem from wounds of the past, and from my fear of what might happen if I let go of control. Trust, I now see, isn’t blind; it’s informed by wisdom, discernment, and boundaries.

There were moments when I questioned not just others, but also the divine, wondering why painful experiences were allowed to happen, and why I was left feeling unprotected as a child and later in life as I defended into young adulthood. The uncertainty bred doubt in my own ability to discern who or what was safe. Yet, what I have gained is an understanding that trust begins not with others, but with a foundational trust in a higher purpose, even when the path forward seems obscure.

I learned that trust is not something to be given indiscriminately or withheld entirely. It is an invitation to vulnerability, tempered by the understanding that discernment is a gift, honed through experience. It has become clear to me that trust is less about guarantees of safety or certainty and more about growth through relational and spiritual stretching. There is wisdom in establishing boundaries, not as a form of self-preservation, but as an act of respect for both myself and those around me. Boundaries do not signify the absence of trust, but rather the preservation of healthy, intentional trust.

The deepest lesson, however, is the recognition that trust requires a recalibration of my heart. It is not my role to control or to predict the actions of others or the unfolding of life’s events, but to trust that each step I take, though uncertain, moves me closer to healing. I now understand that trust is a slow dance between wisdom and vulnerability, one that I must navigate with an open yet discerning heart. The fear that held me captive no longer defines my capacity to trust. Instead, trust becomes a daily practice of releasing control, setting healthy limits, and believing that I am safe within divine protection, even when circumstances remain unclear.

—

In childhood’s darkest corners,
Fear lived behind the front door,
A silence I could not question,
But learned not to trust.

Friends, once anchors,
Became driftwood in shallow waters,
Loyalty lost like whispers,
And I abandoned floating alone.

In a failed marriage, trust was a mirror
Shattered by pretense,
Each shard reflecting a version of myself
That I no longer recognized.

Relationships, at times, felt like betrayal,
A wound wrapped in promises,
Yet in moments of intimacy,
I found trust’s delicate bloom.

Now, trust is a flickering light,
Sometimes dim, sometimes strong,
A compass not for others,
But for the faith I rebuild within myself.

— Sincerely, Boris

As I guide my daughter through the complexities of the world, I recognize that the pressures of modern culture seek to mold her in ways that may distort her sense of self. In this process, my role becomes one of fierce protection, gentle guidance, and deep listening.

I must first instill in her an unshakable belief in her intrinsic worth. Society will try to measure her by external standards; appearance, achievements, social validation; but I teach her that her value is inherent, stemming from her character, kindness, and the unique power she brings into the world. I show her that true confidence is cultivated from within, rooted in understanding who she is, rather than how others see her.

Part of this journey as a father is ensuring she understands the importance of setting boundaries. I teach her to listen to her intuition and to assert herself, knowing that saying “no” is not a sign of weakness but of strength. In a culture that often exploits vulnerability, I help her discern trustworthiness in others and remind her that her body, her mind, and her heart are hers to protect (with a little help from her father).

It is essential that she finds a balance between independence and connection. I encourage her to pursue her passions with relentless curiosity while also fostering deep, meaningful relationships with those around her. The strength I want her to embody is not only about resilience in the face of challenges, but also about cultivating compassion; for herself and others.

I embrace my role as a father in the fullness of my imperfections, showing her that strength is not about being infallible but about owning mistakes and learning from them. Through my actions, I seek to model what it means to be emotionally available, self aware, to listen before responding, and to act with integrity.

As a divorced father, I have an added responsibility to provide her with stability, even when life feels fractured. I must be the steady presence in her life, offering her a safe haven where she can explore the world without fear of judgment. I make it clear to her that her family structure does not define her; she is not diminished by it but can find strength in her ability to navigate its complexities with grace, as I have.

My love for her is an anchor, one that will carry her through the challenges of adolescence and beyond. My hope is that, through this unconditional love, she will grow into a woman who is not only strong but wise, empathetic, and unapologetically herself.

—

I promise, daughter, to be your guide,
To walk beside you, to never hide.
I’ll show you strength and how to stand,
With courage held in your own hand

I promise to let you grow and be,
To find your path and set you free.
In every step, through joy and strife,
I’ll honor the woman you shape in life.

I promise to protect your heart,
To guard your spirit from the start.
No matter where I am or roam,
I’ll always find my way back home.

— Sincerely, Boris

I’ve come to understand that healing from a breakup is not merely about moving on, but about transforming loss into an opportunity for self-growth. The hardest lesson was the necessity of letting go completely; closing every door to the past, not to escape, but to confront the emptiness it had left behind. In mourning the end of the relationship, I also had to mourn the version of myself I had lost along the way; and accepting that the future we had planned would never come to pass. This loss was not just of what was, but of what could have been. Yet, through time and the hard work of healing, I’ve found peace with this reality. Letting go of what was never meant to be has created space for new possibilities.

Setting new boundaries became essential. I learned that protecting my heart and mind required a lot of discipline, not as a defense, but as a way to reclaim my energy and direct it inward. In doing so, I realized that self-care isn’t indulgence; it is the deliberate act of rebuilding my sense of worth.

One of the most important lessons I learned was accountability. I had to take responsibility for my choices, both in the relationship and in my healing. While forgiving myself for past mistakes was essential, even more crucial was holding myself to a higher standard moving forward. I began to clearly distinguish between love and attachment, between desire and need. Through this process, my perception of my ex shifted significantly, leaving me to question much about our past. It has been liberating to finally break free from the heartbreak that once consumed me.

As I worked to rebuild my self-esteem, I reawakened parts of me that had been silenced, rediscovering who I was before and who I could potentially become. Heartbreak, rather than something to avoid, became a refining force, shaping me into a stronger and more resilient version of myself.

As I rebuild my life and shape the future I now desire, I remain optimistic. I trust that love will find me again, and I will never give up on that journey. The pain has been my teacher, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of love, and preparing me for what lies ahead.

—

From our end, I found my start,
Fixing the pieces of my broken heart.
Heartbreak taught me to look within,
To face the pain beneath my skin.

In the torment, I learned to see,
That love was never about you and me.
What once was broken is now whole,
In losing you, I’ve regained my soul.

No longer bound to what is gone,
I rise, renewed, and carry on.
The heart that ached has learned to mend;
In its healing, I find my strength once again.

— Sincerely, Boris

For 14 years, I carried the burden of a relationship that, in its quiet cruelty, convinced me I was unworthy; a terrible husband, an inattentive father, a poor friend. Gaslit into self-doubt, I was made to believe that my flaws were responsible for the chaos. Yet, in truth, I was supporting a person who had every opportunity to stand on her own, but chose instead to lean into a narrative that kept her dependent and me in a cycle of sacrifice.

I was misled, tricked into doubting my loyalty as a friend, while I poured my best self into those I loved, calling them family. I was told I was failing as a father because I worked hard to provide, even though I always gave my daughter the fullness of my time and care, from reading bedtime stories to cooking meals and being present in the moments that truly mattered. Meanwhile, the person I shared my life with had next to no friends, no passions, no sense of fulfillment beyond the image she presented to the world.

The resentment I held onto was not born from singular events but from the accumulation of years spent sleeping on couches and floors, excluded from intimacy, and trapped in a performance of a marriage that lacked love. I poured time, money, and energy into preserving a façade that was never real. This false perception; of her, of us; was a thief that robbed me of my peace.

Letting go of this resentment does not mean I dismiss the past, but it does mean I reclaim the part of me that was buried beneath it. I must understand that control is often an illusion; the more I clung to the idea that I could change the outcome, the more I suffered. True freedom lies in accepting that life, and the people in it, are unpredictable. I cannot change who she was or how she treated me, but I can choose how I respond now.

Forgiveness, too, is not for her; it is a gift I give to myself. To hold onto anger, to nurture resentment, is to keep myself in chains long after the relationship has ended. I release that weight because my healing demands it, and my future deserves it.

As I look toward the future, I must embrace the present. The past, though painful, is no longer my prison; it is a foundation, a set of lessons that have fortified my resilience. My life now is a canvas I will fill with intention and authenticity, building upon the wisdom gained from the trials I’ve endured.

I have come to understand that letting go is not merely an act of forgetting, but a deliberate choice to free myself from the grip of the past, releasing the emotional weight that has bound me for too long. It requires an intimate confrontation with pain; not in the form of denial or suppression; but in a way that allows me to honor what has shaped me without letting it define the man I am becoming.

The art of letting go, then, is not about erasing what has been, but about stepping into what is to come; with grace, peace, and open arms.

—

In a marriage built on illusions,
I lost pieces of myself,
Fighting to fit into a mold
That never reflected my truth.

Each sacrifice, a silent echo,
A yearning for connection
In a world of empty gestures.

Years passed, buried in doubt,
While destroying my spirit.
Until I knew it was time to leave,
To reclaim the life that I deserve.

With every step away from that past,
I peeled back the layers of shame,
Finding strength in my vulnerability,
And a voice that had long been hushed.

Now, I walk a path that is my own,
Embracing the unknown with open arms,
Each day a chance to rebuild,
To honor the lessons learned,
And to celebrate the man I am destined to be.

No longer defined by what I lost,
I stand in the warmth of possibility,
With a heart ready to heal,
And a spirit renewed,
Ready to live fully,
In the truth of my own story.

— Sincerely, Boris

Grief is not something one simply “gets over.” It’s a profound and transformative process that we learn to carry with us, reshaping it into wisdom and strength. Through my own experiences; surviving a traumatic childhood, navigating a toxic divorce, losing a best friend, and enduring health battles; I’ve come to realize that grief is best navigated with the support of others, not in isolation.

There are essential needs we must honor when mourning: acknowledging the reality of loss, embracing the pain, and leaning on others to help carry the weight. Grief is not an experience to be rushed or solved, but rather a process of reconciliation; a deep acceptance that transforms us. Pain doesn’t vanish, but with time and support, we learn to live alongside it. I’ve walked this path, understanding that grief becomes a part of us, woven into the fabric of who we are, reshaping our identity.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a circle of friends and family whose love has carried me through the darkest moments. My older sister and twin brother, in particular, have been my constant companions in this journey. They were there during my childhood, when trauma was a silent presence. They stood by me through my divorce, when I questioned my worth as a husband and father. And they held me up through the grief of losing my best friend and the challenges of facing health issues that left me questioning my own mortality.

In my journey as a 41-year-old single father to my beautiful 9-year-old daughter, I’ve come to understand the deep depths of grief and the importance of embracing vulnerability. Grief is not merely an experience to endure but a courageous path toward healing and authenticity. It has taught me that acknowledging our pain allows us to connect more deeply with ourselves and others, paving the way for genuine mourning.

Through my experiences in grieving past relationships, I’ve learned that vulnerability is a strength rather than a weakness. Recently, during a theater outing, my daughter witnessed my tears while watching Wild Robot. On our walk home, she courageously asked me which parts of the movie had affected me the most. We paused on a bench, sharing our feelings and reflecting on the moments that sparked emotion within us. Together, we grieved for the old goose Longneck, honoring his courage and bravery for a few quiet moments.

This experience not only deepened our bond but also illustrated to her that expressing emotions is a natural and valuable part of life. In those moments, I realized that fostering an environment where feelings can be shared freely helps nurture resilience and empathy in her. By embracing our vulnerabilities, we honor our grief and create space for love, connection, and understanding, reminding ourselves that mourning is an integral part of our shared humanity. In navigating my own grief, I hope to guide her in finding the courage to authentically experience her emotions as she grows, assuring her that it’s okay to feel deeply and openly in a world that often encourages the opposite.

What I’ve learned is that grief, in its purest form, is a communal experience. The presence of those who care for us is essential. It’s in their company that I’ve found solace, in their compassion that I’ve discovered the strength to keep moving forward. The relationships that have endured through these hardships have been my lifeline, helping me process not only the pain of loss but also the profound sense of survival and rebirth that follows.

In my support group, I’ve found a space where vulnerability is met with understanding, where shared experiences foster healing. These connections have reminded me that we are not meant to bear the weight of our grief alone. My siblings’ generosity and my friends’ loyalty have allowed me to reshape my pain into something meaningful. Through them, I’ve found the courage to keep walking this path, not in spite of the losses I’ve faced, but because of the love that surrounds me.

Grief may be inevitable, but it is not insurmountable. With time, with patience, and with the unwavering support of those who care for us, we can reconcile our losses and create a new understanding of who we are. In the end, it’s the love we receive that helps us carry the grief; and in that love, we find the strength to continue.

—

It’s as if you’ve spent a lifetime in pursuit, tirelessly honing your craft, only to meet the moment you’ve long awaited; and falter. In that instant, the prize you held so tightly slips through your fingers, drifting out of reach, lost forever.

Every step, every sacrifice, has led you here, only for the dream you chased so relentlessly to dissolve before your eyes. The weight of expectation presses down, and the failure burns deep, rending your heart in waves, relentless in its ache.

But at the end, where defeat seemed inevitable, something unexpected awaits. There, beyond the finish line, stand the ones you love most; cheering, smiling, their eyes bright with pride. Their applause whispers a truth louder than your loss: that second place is but a number. In their eyes, you have always been, and will always be, their champion.

— Sincerely, Boris

Many of my struggles stem not from external forces but from within, from patterns of self-sabotage that I once thought were beyond my control. It’s recently become very clear to me that these moments of inner resistance I have struggled with, these times when I seem to work against my own best interests, are not random. They are my mind and body’s way of protecting me from what feels unfamiliar or too overwhelming to face.

Personal growth, I’ve come to realize, has demanded not only patience but also the courage to confront these barriers inside of me. The obstacles I encounter aren’t meant to be avoided or fought. Rather, they are reminders that within every challenge, there’s an invitation to dig deeper, to look at my doubts, anxieties, and limiting beliefs, and to dismantle them.

This journey of mine is about mastering myself, not in the sense of becoming perfect, but in learning to be compassionate with my flaws, understanding where they come from, and allowing the proper space for my own evolution. I’ve learned that healing and progress come when I stop seeing my emotions as problems to fix and begin seeing them as messages guiding me toward what I truly need.

The transformation comes in the shift from self-sabotage to self-mastery. It requires me to take responsibility, to recognize that I am both the source of my struggles and the architect of my liberation. With this awareness, I can start to rebuild, step by step, by accepting where I am, forgiving myself for past mistakes, and slowly reorienting my life toward what truly aligns with my purpose. Mastery is not control; it is surrender to personal growth.

—

I am the mountain I must climb,
The stone I stumble on is mine.
Not to resist, but to take place,
The path ahead, I must face.

The fear I feel, the doubt I bear,
Are voices calling for self-repair.
In every challenge, a chance to rise,
To meet the truth behind disguise.

The road is long, the path I’ll clear,
With every step I dissolve the fear.
For in each wound, I heal and grow,
My heart learns what the mind can’t know.

— Sincerely, Boris

There was a time when I believed that intimacy was something instinctual, a force that either existed between two people or didn’t. But over time, I came to understand that intimacy is not simply a given; it is something that must be nurtured through honest and vulnerable conversations, each revealing the heart of what we need, fear, and desire.

I learned that the foundation of connection lies in acknowledging my deepest longings; those desires that go beyond physicality. It required me to unravel the layers of what I want, to express the complexities of attraction, and to embrace the discomfort of speaking my truth. Only by facing these unspoken needs could I truly invite another into the depth of my intimacy.

I also had to confront the tension between pleasure and discomfort. There’s an art in balancing these two forces, in recognizing that not every touch, every moment, will be perfect. It became clear to me that boundaries are essential, that knowing when to say ‘yes’ and when to say ‘no’ is as much a part of intimacy as the act of coming together. The body speaks in these moments, revealing both joy and hesitation, and I had to learn to listen.

Trust, I realized, is the heartbeat of connection. It is not enough to want intimacy; it must be built on a foundation where vulnerability can flourish. This is a trust that goes beyond words; it requires action, consistency, and the courage to be fully seen. In moments of doubt, I had to open myself further, revealing my flaws and insecurities, knowing that trust isn’t something to be passively given, but actively cultivated.

And then there’s the rhythm of how we communicate; the delicate balance of speaking and listening. I found that the most profound conversations are often those that leave space for silence, for reflection. Patience became my ally, as I learned that empathy in communication creates a shared experience, one that allows both of us to feel understood without the need for constant resolution.

But perhaps the most transformative realization was understanding that intimacy is not static. It evolves, just as we do. My body, my desires, and the way I seek connection have changed over time, and I’ve come to accept this as part of the journey. Rather than clinging to past versions of ourselves, I found a certain grace in adapting, in continually exploring new ways to nurture both trust and pleasure.

In the end, these realizations became more than lessons. They became a practice; an ongoing commitment to creating space for intimacy that is as rich emotionally as it is physically. It’s a space where love deepens, where empathy and passion intertwine, and where both partners are given the freedom to grow alongside each other.

—

It’s in the breath between words,
A place where we meet,
Beyond the edge of touch,
Where skin is not a barrier, but a bridge.

It’s in the slow unraveling of the heart,
Our truest selves,
Waiting to be seen,
waiting to be held.

Intimacy is the courage to stay,
Where bodies bend,
Not just for the warmth of another,
But for the release of what we carry alone.

The eyes that undress what words cannot,
The trust that grows
Not from promises spoken,
But from the weight of presence of being whole.

Where love is not just felt,
But understood
In the way we share our breath,
Our silence,
Our fears,
And our fire.

— Sincerely, Boris

Love, in all its varied forms, has shaped me. It is through love that I have discovered the complexities of friendship, the exhilaration and heartache of romance, and the beauty of self-discovery. The years have taught me that love is not confined to the romantic ideals we often hold in our youth, but rather, it permeates every facet of life; friendship, family, and, perhaps most importantly, the love we cultivate within ourselves.

Through friendships, I learned the art of companionship, the silent language of loyalty, and the sharp pain of betrayal. Friends are the scaffolding upon which the architecture of my life has been built, and though time may weather those bonds, I understand now that each connection serves its purpose; either to uplift or to teach.

Romantic love, for all its allure, often presents itself as a mirror reflecting back our deepest insecurities and desires. It is within the pursuit of love that I have faltered, my heart at times shattered by misplaced trust or unfulfilled promises. Yet, I have come to see that the true tragedy of love is not its ending, but the missed opportunities to grow alongside someone who enriches you, rather than diminishes you.

In the midst of seeking external validation, I realized that the most profound relationship is the one I have with myself. Self-love, often overlooked, is the foundation upon which all other forms of love must be built. It is in moments of solitude that I have found clarity, understanding that I must first learn to stand alone before I can truly stand with others.

Life’s most valuable lessons are delivered not in grand epiphanies, but in the quiet moments; through friendships that evolve, through relationships that end, and through the resilience we muster in solitude. What remains is the awareness that love, in its many forms, is less about perfect outcomes and more about the journey; the vulnerability, the joy, and the inevitable pain that accompanies it.

Each encounter, whether fleeting or enduring, has etched itself into the fabric of who I am. And from this, I have learned that love, above all else, is a choice; one we must make with grace, courage, and, perhaps most of all, with a deep sense of compassion for ourselves.

—

Before I stand with you,
I must stand with myself;
In quiet corners of solitude,
Where no hand holds mine,
And no voice echoes back my worth.

I must be whole,
Not seeking refuge in another’s eyes,
But rooted in the soil of my own soul,
Blooming from the love I give within.

Only then,
With steady hands and open heart,
Can I walk beside you,
Not as half seeking whole,
But as one who knows how to love;
By first loving me.

— Sincerely, Boris

Raising a daughter has been an unparalleled journey of learning, reflection, and growth. Through the stories of others, I’ve found wisdom that resonates with the deep responsibility and profound love that comes with being a father to my beautiful daughter. One of the greatest lessons I have embraced is that fatherhood is not about control but about nurturing independence. It’s about standing alongside her as she explores the world, offering guidance when she seeks it, and always making sure she knows that my love is her safe place, no matter where life leads her.

I’ve also learned that my role is to model emotional vulnerability. To show her that strength is not in silence, but in expressing her thoughts and feelings with clarity and confidence. This is especially important in a world that often tries to diminish the emotional depth of girls, pushing them to conform to shallow expectations. I want her to understand that her feelings matter, that she is not only allowed to take up space but encouraged to do so fully and unapologetically.

Patience, too, has revealed itself as a critical virtue. I’ve realized that our time together isn’t always about monumental moments but is instead composed of the quiet, steady presence I offer her. She doesn’t need me to be perfect; she needs me to be present. In those small, everyday interactions; the mundane conversations on our walks and on the swing sets, the shared laughter over a meal or movie; our bond grows, and so does her understanding of what a loving relationship looks like.

Finally, I’ve come to appreciate that teaching her resilience is perhaps my greatest duty. Not the kind of resilience that hardens, but the kind that allows her to rise after each fall with grace and strength. I want her to know that failure is never final, that setbacks are simply stepping stones, and that her worth is never defined by the obstacles she encounters. It is in her ability to rise, to face the world with compassion for herself and others, that she will find her true power.

As a single father, I strive to be the kind of man who mirrors these values; not just for her sake but for my own growth, too. Fatherhood is not a journey with a clear destination but a continuous process of becoming. I know that as I guide her, she is guiding me, both of us evolving together in this shared, sacred relationship.

—

I once believed my strength was my own,
Built through hardship and endurance.
But in you, I’ve realized
It’s your presence that keeps me moving forward.

In your laughter, I find hope,
And in your compassion, I understand
That kindness is where real strength lies.
You may be young, but you guide me,
Teaching lessons I didn’t know I needed.

You’ve shown me how to listen,
How to stay patient, and how to nurture growth.
Your resilience is clear in every challenge you face,
You get back up without hesitation.

I’m proud of how independent you’ve become,
Of the way you meet life head-on.
Watching you grow into your own
Is the greatest gift I could have.

You’ve given me strength I never thought I’d need,
And I’m better for having you by my side.

— Sincerely, Boris

Trust begins within. It is an intimate act of self-awareness, a journey of learning to listen to the voice inside, of refining intuition until it feels like an unshakable compass. To trust others, we must first cultivate trust in ourselves; a quiet confidence that our choices, no matter how uncertain, are guided by something deeper, something true. This self-trust is the foundation upon which all other connections rest.

But trust with others is more delicate. It is earned slowly, built through small acts of consistency, vulnerability, and presence. It is fragile; a currency of the heart that requires both patience and persistence. Yet, in the blink of an eye, it can vanish. A single lie, a fleeting betrayal, or even the weight of silence can shatter what took years to nurture. Like glass, once broken, trust rarely returns to its original form. Even in the painstaking process of rebuilding, the cracks remain visible, forever altering its shape.

There is another way trust fades: the slow erosion caused by distance. In time, even without betrayal, trust can slip through our fingers, lost in the space between absence and silence. The image of the person we once trusted morphs, shifts, and no longer resembles the one we held close. Distance, both emotional and physical, can sever the bond, leaving us questioning the very foundation of what was once certain.

Trust, then, is more than a feeling; it is a sacred state of mind. It is a neural symphony, signaling when to lean in and when to step back, when to open our hearts and when to protect them. It shapes our behavior, guiding our actions like an invisible hand.

Cherish the trust you place in others as if it were a tender flame, vulnerable to even the softest breeze. Protect it, nurture it, and do not fear letting go when it no longer feels safe. Your trust is precious, a reflection of how you wish to be held in this world. Trust your instincts; they are the guardians of your soul’s deepest desires.

—

Your words once bloomed in light, sincere,
A stream of truth we both could hear.
Now they shout, of whispering cries,
Drenched in dishonesty, not afraid to lie.

You spoke with heart, each word I’ve longed,
Honesty, bold, unbroken, and strong.
But when did deceit begin to rise?
When did truth crumble beneath the lies?

The lies wear honesty’s disguise,
Sweet poison hidden in your eyes.
And with each word, you drift away;
A stranger now, who once vowed to stay.

Trust is a fragile thing to break,
A bitter pill I’ve learned to take.
Now silence lingers in its wake,
For all that’s left feels cold, and fake.

What’s left to say, when the truth is gone?
The dialogue between us now feels wrong.
So here I stand, beneath your lies,
Watching trust fading, as it dies.

— Sincerely, Boris

There are parts within me that have been shaped by early pain and fear; a life spent on guard, vigilant against the consequences of any misstep. I learned to divide myself, to hide certain parts, for safety’s sake; leaving fragments of myself that grew accustomed to survival, even as it yearned for connection. But in time, I have come to understand that this fractured past within me holds potential for healing, for growth, and, perhaps most importantly, for a new way of being.

These inner divisions; the parts of myself that I once rejected, feared, or simply didn’t understand; are not obstacles to overcome but parts of me that require compassion and understanding. They formed in a space of need, a response to an environment that offered little safety. Each part, the cautious one, the silent one, the fierce protector; emerged in response to that fearful environment. Rather than erasing them, I now see the importance of recognizing and holding space for these parts, welcoming them as survivors who kept me whole when wholeness felt impossible. Recognizing them as such has shifted my inner perspective; I now see them not as burdens but as bearers of survival, protectors who were once essential and who still seek my recognition and care.

In parenting my daughter, I see these fragmented parts come to life in unexpected ways. The father I have become is one forged in the fires of my own longing to be held, understood, and valued. Every hug, every kind word, every act of support I offer her is an affirmation of the love I once sought. In her presence, I am able to rewrite the script of my own life, to give what was missing and, in doing so, heal some of the wounds that linger within. Through her, I am learning that these parts of myself do not need to be banished; they need to be invited in, to be heard, and to be allowed to rest.

There is a quiet transformation that happens when I approach these parts of myself not with disdain or shame, but with gentle curiosity. I am learning to sit with the parts of me that flinch or recoil, to hear their voices without judgment. In doing so, I become whole, not by silencing these voices but by honoring their role in my journey. This process; an intimate and, at times, unsettling path; reveals that healing is less about “fixing” oneself than it is about integration, about making room for all that I am, even the painful pieces that I once tried so hard to forget.

In becoming a father who breaks the cycles of silence and abandonment, I find myself embracing a deeper, more profound truth: that each of these parts has a place, and each is worthy of love. I am piecing myself together in a way I wish had been modeled for me as a child, building within me the compassion I once desperately needed and am now able to extend outward. My daughter, in her innocence and wisdom, is both my greatest joy and my mirror; she shows me the parts of myself that still need my love. And in loving her, I am, at last, learning to love all of me.

—

Born into darkness,
I learned to be small,
to tiptoe through childhood,
make myself quiet, unseen.

Now I carry the scars,
not as burden but as strength,
fuel for a steady, unbreaking love,
a light my daughter will never fear.

I break the silence through resilience,
rewrite the script with gentle hands.
What I was denied,
she will know as her birthright.

For her, I am whole,
and in her, I am healed.

— Sincerely, Boris

In life, I find that meaning comes not from the pursuit of happiness as a singular goal, but from the journey of seeking something greater than myself. I’ve come to understand that a quest; whether grand or humble; is what gives structure and intention to life. It’s not merely about what I achieve but about the way in which I push my boundaries and challenge my comfort. The richness of life is woven through this constant pursuit, where the process itself brings fulfillment, growth, and, ultimately, a deeper sense of purpose.

I’ve learned that quests are personal, and they vary from person to person. For some, it may be an exploration of the world, for others, an internal journey of self-mastery or spiritual enlightenment. What matters is not the specific nature of the journey but the fact that it demands something of me. A quest calls for sacrifice, resilience, and a willingness to embrace discomfort in the name of something meaningful. It teaches me to value perseverance and to cherish progress as much as the outcome.

In my experience as a divorced single father, I’ve found that even in failure or setback, there is an immense value in the effort. Each step forward, each obstacle, and each victory, no matter how small, brings clarity. I learn more about myself, about my limits, and about the world around me. This process has shown me that I am capable of more than I often imagine.

The most profound lesson I’ve come to understand is that life is more than the routine we fall into. It’s about actively choosing a path that resonates with who I am at my core. The choice to embark on a journey that allows me to live intentionally, to craft a story that is uniquely mine, and to pursue a legacy that matters; not necessarily to the world at large, but to my soul and for my daughter.

In seeking a quest, I’ve come to realize the importance of listening to the call of my heart and not the expectations of others. What is most true and beautiful in life is discovered through action, not merely contemplation. The quest is not about perfection; it is about daring greatly, facing fears, and allowing passion to guide me toward something meaningful. And through this pursuit, I find not just a fleeting sense of happiness, but a life that is rich in purpose.

—

I walk the path, alone, not lost,
A father’s heart, the cost embossed.
With one eye gone, I see more clear,
The wounds of home, the quiet fear.

Through surgeries, through love undone,
The quest began when I was young.
Not in the joy, but in the pain,
I found my strength, I learned to reign.

A daughter’s light, my guiding star,
Through a broken past, we’ve come so far.
This life, my journey, ever fast;
A quest for peace, for love that lasts.

— Sincerely, Boris

I’ve come to realize that the mind holds immense potential for healing, far more than we often acknowledge. Instead of searching for relief solely in external solutions, I’ve learned to turn inward, recognizing that the tools for managing pain, stress, and anxiety already exist within me. By consciously working with the mind and body, we can shift our experience of suffering and cultivate peace.

The breath is one of the most effective means of doing this. It serves as a direct link to the present, anchoring my awareness in the here and now. Through simple, controlled breathing, I can calm my nervous system and influence my subconscious mind. This process is not only about relaxation; it’s about retraining the mind to respond differently to stress and discomfort. With every mindful breath, I’ve gained a greater sense of control over my emotional and physical states.

Mindfulness is another critical practice. By observing my thoughts and emotions without immediately reacting to them, I’ve developed a new perspective on pain and stress. Rather than seeing these as threats to be resisted, I now view them as signals; indicators that something in me needs attention. Mindfulness allows me to approach these signals with curiosity and compassion, which can reduce their intensity and help me respond more thoughtfully.

In this process, meditation plays a key role. It gives me access to the deeper parts of my subconscious, where my past experiences and emotional patterns are stored. Through regular meditation, I’ve been able to reshape my responses to stress and pain, moving away from automatic reactions that increase suffering. Meditation has taught me that healing is a process of aligning the mind and body toward peace, not by force but through consistent, patient practice.

I no longer feel powerless in the face of external stressors. By focusing on my inner world; my thoughts, my breath, and my awareness; I’ve developed a sense of resilience that isn’t easily shaken by outside circumstances. Healing, I’ve learned, is an ongoing journey. Each day offers a new opportunity to practice these skills, to remind myself that while pain or anxiety may arise, I have the ability to transform how I experience them.

—

Each morning, I rise to greet the day,
Read words of wisdom, to light my way.
With visions clear, and actions aligned,
I center my soul, in peace I find.

Meditation whispers, “Be still, be strong,”
And in the silence, I belong.
Writing my truths, I set them free;
A life of growth, that belongs to me.

Afternoons slow, with a gentle breeze,
Books and thoughts, no need to please.
Turning off screens, I reclaim the hour,
In quiet moments, I find my power.

A podcast hums, a guiding sound,
New ideas grow, deep and profound.
As evening falls, I move and I breathe,
Walking the path where my heart is pleased.

With words once more, I let them flow,
A reflection of where I long to go.
In the stillness, I find my light,
And greet the peace that comes each night.

I promise to hold my routine with care,
To nourish my body, to breathe fresh air.
Move every day, let my muscles sing,
Phone set aside, to let nature ring.

Carry my camera, to capture the skies,
Saving each dollar, with mindful eyes.
Sober, present, embracing the new,
Writing forever, my heart’s truth in view.

In this journey, I grow and unfold,
A story of strength, resilience and bold.

— Sincerely, Boris

The day unfolds with a heart steeped in gratitude, stirred awake by morning meditation. The afternoon finds me beneath a willow's gentle sway, a book cradled in my hands, warmth rising from a mug beside me. As night whispers its arrival, my thoughts spill onto paper, paired with a quiet indulgence. Each moment carries the weight of intention, weaving a rhythm of mindfulness, stillness, and creativity. It’s a ritual that nourishes my spirit, cultivating inner peace, self discovery, and inspiration in its delicate balance.

–

Through meditation, we sit with what arises,
learning to stay present with our thoughts,
to breathe into the pain of our experiences.

No longer fleeing discomfort,
we meet our fears with open arms,
letting them speak, letting them go quietly.

The thoughts, the worries, the pain;
all given the mental space to exist,
but no longer bound by our need for control.

We hold them lightly,
and as we loosen our grip,
until they all begin to drift away.

In this stillness, our healing begins,
slow and unfolding,
a lifelong journey until we are reborn.

We embrace the unknown,
finding peace in the spaces in between;
holding on and letting go.

— Sincerely, Boris