Matthias, my youngest son, always says to me after something beautiful moments happens:

“Mami, life goes by so fast, way too fast.”

We wake up, we rush, we eat, we produce, and then we go to sleep. In this constant hurry, we very rarely give ourselves a real pause — to sit and truly enjoy a cup of coffee without watching the clock or checking the phone.

When was the last time you stopped to listen to the silence, to really look at what’s around you, to just feel?

Not to react. Not to solve. Just to observe.

This matters because everything around us touches us. Sometimes we notice it, sometimes we don’t; sometimes we don’t even want it to get inside us. And yet — a word, a song, an absence — it all quietly accumulates in our heart almost without us realizing.

A while ago this sentence came to me:

“What if crying actually helps rinse the soul?”

Not as weakness — but as an act of vulnerability.

Rinsing the soul means making room for everything we carry inside, letting go of what is heavy, what hurts, what exhausts us.

It’s not cleaning in order to forget.

It’s cleaning in order to begin again.

It’s crying when crying is what’s needed.

Because tears are the most human thing we have. They are how the body says: there is pain here, there is frustration here, there is an unfulfilled dream here.

Sometimes tears are the only way we can say:

“This matters to me. This hurts. This is heavy.”

And sometimes that’s exactly what we need: just to cry.

It’s a way — even if only for a few minutes — of truly connecting with ourselves.

It isn’t easy. No one ever taught us how to do it without feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable.

Rinsing the soul is an act of self-love.