Diário de um Outubro
Day 1
Today is World Music Day, an invitation to reflect on the soundscape that inhabits our minds.
Some may prefer the noisy music of the market, mass-produced and soulless, like a fast food for the ears. But I seek out music that is made with pure intention, that is felt in the soul and approaches us in a private way, like a shared secret.
I've stopped listening to what's in vogue, for it disturbs me rather than fulfilling me. It's on the wrong frequency, devoid of the love and depth I seek.
For my part, I choose true music: that which is made by passionate hearts and minds that understand the soul.
It is the only melody I allow to enter my mind.
Day 2
I write these memories in search of an echo, a pattern repeating in a spiral. It's the quiet awareness that not all of our actions, however spontaneous they may seem, are a result of free will. I feel the decisions we make are activated by an invisible frequency, a cosmic code that governs our very existence.
Life is like a carousel that, without fail, returns us to the same point, even as the landscape changes around us with the endless passing of people. This diary is my way of recording the cycle of energies, so that a year from now, I can revisit these pages and find the silent confirmation that, in the end, everything was already written by the hand of the Creator.
Day 3
3 is a magical number, the untier of all knots. It is the number that resolves duality and creates volume. When the universe offers us only YES and NO, 3 emerges as the synthesis, the middle path, the force that resolves polarity and moves forward.
It is the essential Trinity of form: the pyramid pointing towards the sky, the triangle giving stability to the base.
However, 3 is also our first paradox. It is the crowd that breaks the intimacy of two; it is the distraction that pulls us away from focus. In the occult, it is the driving force, the engine of all manifested creation—the union of the masculine and feminine principles to generate the Third Force.
Looking at our own existence through the lens of this number teaches us that true mastery lies in the capacity for synthesis and non-polarization. The Third Way is not the negation of opposites, but their transcendence. Today I find my third path of the day, and have you found yours yet?
Day 4
A Message for World Animal Day
Today is recognized as World Animal Day, yet we must confront the dissonance at the heart of our celebration. Humanity, with its profoundly misinterpreted concept of Dominion, places itself above all other species. True dominion is not superiority; it is the fundamental obligation of service and care for every creature on this planet.
We engage in simple Speciesism—lavishing affection upon some animals, while silently consuming others.
What truly distinguishes the beloved pet from the livestock on our plate? If we believe it is wrong to extend the love we hold for a dog to a pig or a cow, then on what moral ground do we condemn other cultures for eating the animals they call their own?
This disconnect is a vast moral void. We know the truth: If slaughterhouses had walls of glass, everything would be different.
This comfortable dissociation between what we find on our plate and the suffering of the animal world is, in many ways, the root of much of the darkness on this planet. It is a deficiency of empathy, a failure of re-education, a collapse of basic humaneness, and a profound lack of love for all things and all beings. The path to a better world begins with the difficult act of seeing.
Day 5
Today is Independence Day, a day when a "popular revolution" created the collective illusion that we would be free. But free from whom? And from what?
The kings fled, running for their lives, leaving a kingdom in the hands of retailers with no better intentions. I do not defend the Monarchy or its feudal systems; I am simply confused by the act of trading one system for a mirror image of itself and giving it a new name, all while being told we are free.
We will never be truly free as long as we are caught in the endless struggle for power. For that power will never grant peace to those who hold it, to those who pursue it, or to those who, directly or indirectly, benefit from it.
Day 6
Adrift on an Ocean that is anything but Pacific. And yet, the Nation remains asleep, anesthetized, lacking the sight and sensibility to perceive the machinations behind the New Orders that rise and fall with ritualistic frequency.
The protagonists of these new orders use the masses as both pretext and driving force, exploiting them to exhaustion in the name of a "solution for the Nation"—a Nation that means nothing to them, for it is no longer sovereign, and its fate is a matter of indifference.
Sleep, then, Beautiful Nation, while those who swore to guide you abandon you adrift upon that far-from-Pacific Ocean.
Day 7
I died twenty-eight years ago.
Not as a punishment, but through an unexpected grace that interrupted an erratic life cycle.
It was the hand of destiny that touched me, offering me a new opportunity, a rebirth to rethink my presence in this reality.
It's funny how, before death, I had all the certainties;
I knew exactly where I was headed. After my rebirth,
I know nothing. I live without certainties, without a tomorrow, for each day is a blank page, an opportunity where everything can change.
I touched the other side of reality and still, today, I feel the invisible presence of those who guarded me in the worst moment of my existence.
From that day on, a ballet unfolds to celebrate my new reality, my second, and perhaps last, opportunity.
Day 8
Twenty-eight years and a day since my rebirth, yet despite the second chance granted by the Creator, I feel my cycles repeating themselves—trapped in a mundane, earthly appetite for everything life offers.
It is as if I woke from a profound nightmare and now hasten to live the simplest things, in an urgent act of validating my continued existence on this human plane.
I believe this Day 8, true to its numerical form, carries an exceptionally high energetic charge. It is eternally bound to the symbol of infinity (∞), and to the inescapable action that repeats itself in endless cycles. It is the infinite loop that holds us captive on the perpetual rollercoaster of our lives.
Day 9
Hark! A ravenous yearning consumes my soul to flee—to quit this life, these faces, and, most cruelly, myself.
But how, pray tell, shall I escape this very consciousness that chains me? How may I quench the fierce fire of life within, merely to shun the discomfort of the brutal, raw confrontation that Nature doth bestow?
The actions of others wound, their thoughts a whispered critique, a judgment most sharp. How shall one abscond from this relentless clamour without first forsaking one's own self?
And should I take flight, whither shall my path lead?
What thought shall occupy my frantic mind if I am, indeed, running from the very vessel that harbours thought? I possess no answers, only this raw, aching need: to flee all things, to flee every soul, to flee myself.
Day 10
Today, on World Mental Health Day, the true work is in the soil. The mind is our most fertile ground; what blossoms within it—roses or weeds—depends solely on the gardener. Maintaining this garden, shaping it for both beauty and efficiency, is a full-time task.
Yet, much of what we judge to be our own thought is merely an installed program, a silent update that separates us from original thought. Unless we learn to cultivate our own ground, we will forever belong to the collective hysteria—the Society that dictates the standard and labels us according to it.
The next time the system deems you crazy, inept, or inadequate, stop analyzing what might be wrong with you. Observe those around you: perhaps the answer lies in the collective hysteria, and not in your singularity.
Day 11
Today, I find my balance; enough of the surrounding madness. I dress with quiet elegance and wander the open fields. I do not require the gaze of others; I only need to feel aligned with my own personality. In society, I often feel invisible, but never in the solitude of the landscape—there, I stand out.
This is one of those rare days when I feel profoundly conscious, entirely present, and possess the clear capacity to decide easily upon every challenge that confronts me. Today is a magnificent day to simply be alive.
Day 12
It's church service today, but I will not go.
I never do. If I seek God, it is not on a fixed schedule, amidst a crowd that only interferes with my vital energy.
I prefer the quiet, with no one around, where the Divine manifests in a single breach of light that cuts through the stained-glass window.
There, my soul becomes crystal clear, transparent, and serene.
I pray to the Creator and to myself to become a better person. Yet, the only answer I receive is an ever-deepening solitude, which drives me further from the crowds I have always feared. And so, I serenely accept it: the price of purification and clarity is, at times, isolation.
Day 13
I live in a constant, honest confrontation with my own plurality. There are days when I feel bipolar, tripolar or even quadripolar. This is no fantasy; it is the inhabited inner stage of my mind.
I feel the voices in my head: internal characters that awaken and intervene as the moment demands.
They confuse me with an excess of options, blocking me with uncertainties that resolve nothing. Are they the echoes of previous lives? Are they the voices of my ancestors? Or merely illusions in my way of thinking?
Yet, amidst this chorus, I look into the mirror and find the one certainty: the face looking back is simply Me.
Day 14
A sudden breach of light illuminated my face and warmed my heart, instantly driving away the worry and fears that assail me. The shifting climate profoundly affects the spirit, particularly during October—a month of psychological turbulence. I feel it in my very skin and soul, a genuine rollercoaster of emotion. Were I not so intimately acquainted with myself, I might risk defining this state as bi-polar.
While the sun holds court, a fragile peace settles in my soul—a peace I already dread losing by the close of this day.
I seize the power of this light to finally address everything I procrastinate on during the inevitable low moments; today, I clean the attic of my mind.
My singular wish for all the days that follow: May the sun continue to shine, unimpeded, majestic, and utterly purifying.
Day 15
Insomnia.
The nights are long, and sleep is either short or non-existent. I feel perpetually vigilant. Worry assaults me, granting no rest. During the day, my brain crawls in a haze, leaving me fundamentally absent.
I seem to live in a perpetual limbo between full consciousness and utter numbness.
At moments, I lose the distinction of reality; lucidity, drifting, and presence become blurred, undefined, with no end in sight.
I yearn for a single night of deep, profound sleep, followed by a day marked by absolute clarity.
Day 16
Autumn does not destroy color; it merely reorganizes it. We believe we see chaos in the falling leaf, but it is only the system recycling itself, preparing the ground for the next truth. We live in an era obsessed with 'action' and 'noise'—and we have lost the ability to observe our own defoliation. We are frightened by the void, by the pause.
But the void is not the absence of life; it is the absence of interference.
Real growth is silent and subterranean. It is in the silence between the gusts of wind that our true root resides—the only structure that will not bend to the hysteria of the season. Wisdom lies in accepting the coming winter and using the void to rest and recalibrate our axis, rather than fearing the absence of sound.
Day 17
A profound imperative seized my spirit today: the ardent need to immortalize this transient form. I shall not consent to pass from this mortal realm without leaving a resonant, indelible mark of my tenure.
Thus, I present myself to the village master of the portrait, who, with the utmost fastidiousness and respectful care, transfers this fleeting figure to the enduring canvas.
These sittings are consecrated hours of deep contemplation, serene meditation, and solemn self-reckoning—an experience I heartily commend to every soul seeking definition in this life.
For though time may eventually erase the knowledge of our names, the subsequent ages shall look upon the enduring testament and bear certainty that we once existed, and that in this fleeting reality, we did brilliantly shine.
Day 18
Today, my spirit wearies of protocol, of etiquette, of good manners—or whatever convoluted constructs those who invented them held in their minds.
Today, I choose to defy the social pattern, not to merely shock, but to profoundly liberate myself.
In this act of emancipation, I hope to awaken the attention of others who, too, question the very same rigid tapestry of convention. I concede that norms are essential for the tapestry of society to hold, yet when we find ourselves prisoners to these very strictures, we are inevitably compelled to interrogate our individual liberty.
Thus, today I shall run counter to the flow, shattering conventions and delighting in the unexpected outcomes that may unfurl before me.
Day 19
I insist upon forging a path separate from the common route. I concede the inevitable loss of companions upon this journey—a heavy price I have willingly assumed to avoid the vapidity and hysteria of the collective.
Solitude does not alarm me; quite the opposite. Why should I desire to stand amidst those with whom I share no essential resonance?
Being alone has never rendered me abandoned, lost, anxious, or desolate; it merely deepens the awareness of who I truly am.
I refuse to mirror the crowd simply for the comfort of acceptance; such a compromise violates my most fundamental principles. I will not sell my soul. I shall forever remain faithful to my essence, and for this, I beg the understanding of my acquaintances: if you wish for friendship with me, it must be granted for the genuine being that I am.
Day 20
With my hands and feet rooted in the soil, I felt an overwhelming, primal need to commune with the earth today. I tended to my green space, renewing weary blooms, pulling tenacious weeds, and actively transferring my stagnant energy into the waiting nature, absorbing in return the potent, grounding vitality of the earth itself.
It was a necessary, yet often postponed, visual and energetic recycling.
It is truly remarkable how the simple act of contact with the soil awakens us; the vibrant colors, the rich scents, and the coarse textures that engage every one of our forgotten senses. Today was a day well spent, a testament to the fact that we must sometimes allow ourselves to be stained by the earth simply to feel whole and profoundly clean.
Day 21
My bath.
The simplicity of this act—pouring water into an ancient receptacle—conceals both its urgency and its profound tragedy. Hygiene, understood today merely as a mundane duty, was once a primal ritual of soul purification, a daily baptism that we have forgotten.
I enter this gloom not only to wash away the day's dust, but the psychological grime that October has accumulated: the burden of words, the touch of worries, the venom of restless souls. The body craves warmth, but the spirit demands ablution. The water runs in a thin thread, a sound of meditation, and with every falling drop, I imagine the mind's residues being drained away.
To recover this forgotten meaning is an act of spiritual resistance. It is to close my eyes and allow the water, the primordial matter, to return me to my most essential and limpid form. May this ritual teach me that true purity is not found on the surface, but in the renewal that resides in the deep.
Day 22
Day 22 carries a mystical pulse—a universal resonance that silently confirms the very trajectory of our souls. It marks the precise confluence of an ending cycle and the inevitable dawn of a new one. A unique frequency passes through us, invisible yet utterly transformative, illuminating our being and stirring the dormant essence within.
This is the exact point of re-equilibrium, where the self of the present moment aligns with the eternal self.
Therefore, quiet your being. Seek the deep silence, and listen as your soul speaks directly to your heart.
Day 23
Today, the day belongs unequivocally to me.
I shed the rigid shell of daily routine and surrender myself entirely to thought and deep reflection, free from the interruption of the self-imposed tasks that keep my domestic life in full and necessary function.
Today, I read, I rest, and I consciously pause to simply be.
There is no room for guilt, nor is there a place for anxiety.
I employ the stillness to observe and profoundly absorb every offering the surrounding nature bestows upon me. This is a crucial moment of reconnection with myself and with the natural world, allowing me to realign my biological rhythms exactly as the Creator first intended.
Today, the day is mine.
Day 24
This morning, I woke possessed by the profound imperative of self-portraiture. I know that my figure has already been consecrated to eternity upon the canvas by the hand of a virtuous artist, yet today I claim the authority to etch myself into existence—not through the vision of a third party, but through the uncompromising, pure truth of my own gaze.
I commit myself to the discipline of monochrome, a register where the very soul is laid bare, for in this impression, Light is the sole witness, the ultimate revelation. I demand to be distinguished from the engulfing shadow of anonymity; I yearn to persist in vitality far beyond the frail, mortal vessel I inhabit.
Today, I shall execute my own immortalization, leaving an incontrovertible testament that I did exist, and I did shine.
Day 25
Today, I cherish my self-portrait, the singular light that emerges from the darkness. It is the timeless register of who I am, what I was, and what I shall forever remain: myself. A record that will surely outlive my passing, ensuring my presence endures within the minds of my beloved descendants, sustained by the image I hold of myself.
This monochrome effigy is my silent promise and my sworn testament. While the flesh may inevitably decay to dust, this particular arrangement of light and shadow shall persist, bearing witness to the very depths of my spirit.
They shall know that I was not merely a fleeting shadow upon the family tree, but an unwavering presence, defiantly challenging oblivion. Within this frame, I transcend the simple confines of a name and become legacy—a visual echo destined to guide the eyes of those who follow, reminding them that true existence resides in the courage of being seen.
Day 26
The Scrutiny
Today, I utterly challenge the narrative. I defy any who would vouch for the stories they parrot without ever subjecting them to question.
I defy those who blindly follow the findings of scientific studies without first asking: Who paid for this knowledge?
I defy all those lingering in the educational system, compelled to regurgitate the same tired subject matter taught a hundred years ago. I challenge the very historians to prove that the vast majority of their content is not, in its essence, a carefully crafted fiction. I even challenge those who transcribed, translated, inverted, and re-penned the sacred Scripture, thus steadily distancing us from the Creator.
I challenge the very controllers of this reality to reveal themselves as they are, and not as they are described. Today, I sever my binding connection to the mental program installed since my earliest consciousness. I free myself from that control by way of the narrative.
Day 27
Today, the day had no color. The landscape revealed itself as a mirror to the inner world: sand beneath a sky threatening to collapse at any moment. I sit in the vast, desolate stillness, not to rest, but to finally confront the storm—not the one brewing in the dark clouds above, but the one churning relentlessly in my chest.
In this solitude of the dunes, where there are no landmarks and no refuge, the only remaining structure is the naked truth. The weight of the fabric I wear is the burden of convention, of expectations that insist on shackling the spirit, but the wind speaks a different language.
Life sometimes demands this posture: to face the darkest horizon, to refuse to yield a single step to the threat of chaos, and to find firmness at the very root of one’s being. The fear is there, but the only way to overcome it is to acknowledge it and sit alongside it, beneath the changing sky.
Day 28
Today, the day had no color. The landscape revealed itself as a mirror to the inner world: sand beneath a sky threatening to collapse at any moment. I sit in the vast, desolate stillness, not to rest, but to finally confront the storm—not the one brewing in the dark clouds above, but the one churning relentlessly in my chest.
In this solitude of the dunes, where there are no landmarks and no refuge, the only remaining structure is the naked truth. The weight of the fabric I wear is the burden of convention, of expectations that insist on shackling the spirit, but the wind speaks a different language.
Life sometimes demands this posture: to face the darkest horizon, to refuse to yield a single step to the threat of chaos, and to find firmness at the very root of one’s being. The fear is there, but the only way to overcome it is to acknowledge it and sit alongside it, beneath the changing sky.
.
Day 29
October always descends as a heavy month, and perhaps this is the very reason I chose to chronicle these days—in the profound hope of altering the established pattern.
This has historically been the month when the most sombre company attempts to overrule my will, subtly diverting my destiny hour by hour, day by day. Misfortunes seem to succeed one another, serving only to remind me that I must perpetually elevate my consciousness so that the light of my very being might repel these ill spirits.
I undertake this task daily, yet I cannot escape the chilling sensation that the darkness touches the soul during our most vulnerable moments, those times when our guard falters. I live this month in a state of vigilance, prepared to contend with the worst, ready to subsist entirely upon the spiritual integrity granted to me by the Creator.
Day 30
The very air is heavy. A profound, abnormal energetic density settles upon the world. These are the days of reckoning, the hours when utmost caution must govern what we think, how we look, and even the simple manner in which we eat and drink.
Every care is insufficient. I sense presences; I am seized by a chilling apprehension. Time moves slowly, as though the world itself has stalled. The daylight is too faint, a pallid glow that weighs upon the mind and depresses the spirit.
I long to reach the end of these oppressive days, which cloud my vision and hold my hope captive. My thoughts are hazy, sluggish, and utterly devoid of cheer. I yearn for more light, light for all who remain here, and Light for all those who have already departed.
Day 31
Today is the day the world celebrates the Halloween, yet I choose to retreat into the light. The energy of this day—its noise and its representations—is something I do not welcome; it is a frequency that compels me toward the stillness of my own chamber.
While the exterior adorns itself with the mask of its non-essence, I, in the profound silence of my dwelling, recline in the penumbra of this day’s end. This stillness mirrors the ultimate truth of October: the solemn closing of the cycle, the moment to seal the doors. This is not a refuge forged by apprehension, but rather an imperative of spiritual preservation.
I seek the deepest silence so that my consciousness remains undisturbed by the world’s performance. Today, vigilance is my sole companion, and the wait for November is my only purpose. I allow the appearances to fade and the stillness to settle, ensuring that the new cycle finds me whole and recollected.
Day 32
(November 1st)
The Weight of Continuation.
Today, the calendar tells us the page has turned, yet the soul recognizes the deceit. The heavy curtain of October insists on smothering this new dawn. November 1st: All Souls’ Day. It is a day less of memory and more of a performance by the restless souls, whose frequencies, now unleashed, collide with our plane.
Sometimes, the greatest wisdom is withdrawal. I do not seek direct confrontation with this creeping weight, for I know the risk it carries. The solution is not to fight the external shadows, but to create an internal structure of light they cannot penetrate.
I fold my hands not in supplication, but in containment. On this day, my breath becomes a ritual: I seek the absolute stillness and silence of my essence, transforming worry into focus. The only energy I allow myself to attract is that of stoic peace. I pray for the light of my ancestors, that they may continue in peace wherever they are. May the storm of memory and the threshold pass, finding my soul firm and untouched.
Day 33
Diary of an October: Day 33 (November 2nd)
The Echo of the ‘Pão por Deus’.
The forced stillness of Day 1 dissolves into a day of historical echoes. Today, children run with cheerful baskets, enacting a ritual that, in its current form, barely recalls its brutal origin: the “Pão por Deus” (Bread for God’s Sake).
This day is not merely the continuation of the previous month’s weight; it is the reminder of past suffering, etched into the collective memory. I see the faces of yesteryear, soiled with dirt and coal, their feet bare on the cold ground, where the begged bread was literally the only barrier against extreme hunger.
The purity of the children’s eyes, confronted with the harshness of existence. Today’s simple request is yesterday’s cry for survival. This image haunts me: the awareness that, behind our current abundance, lies the trace of lives where charity was the thin line separating life from death.
May this day, which still carries the heavy burden of necessity, teach us the real difference between the lightness of consumption and the gravity of compassion. May our abundance always be an act of memory.