Luminous Whispers

Life moves so fast, carrying us through moments of joy, pain, and change. Sometimes, we find ourselves looking back, thinking about all that has happened. We remember the happy times, the people we loved, and the experiences that shaped us. Nostalgia can be sweet, like a gentle breeze that reminds us of who we once were, but is today not more important?

The past is full of memories, emotions, and lessons, and sometimes it feels impossible to let go. There’s comfort in remembering, but also a danger in holding on too tightly. We cannot go back and change what has already happened, and we cannot live in a future that hasn’t come yet. But the present moment is here, right now. What we do today matters because it shapes what is to come—and if we hold on too much to the past, we leave no space for new beginnings.

I love looking back on the past, but I’ve realized that carrying every memory—every joy, every pain—can weigh me down. How can I grow if I don’t make space for something new? It’s like finishing a book but refusing to put it down, even when the story is over. We get attached, wanting more, but in reality, sometimes we have to accept that things have ended. How can we start a new chapter if we are still holding on to the last one?

We often think reminiscing is harmless, but is it keeping us from truly living in the present? What about the people who are with us now? What about the moments happening right in front of us? Being lost in the past means we are not fully here. We think we are just remembering, but maybe we are unconsciously holding ourselves back.

Life, through its endless experiences, teaches us detachment—not as a way of forgetting, but as a way of growing. When we let go of what has already served its purpose, we make space for something new. When we stop searching for what’s already gone, we begin to see the beauty of what is here.

Today is important because it is all we truly have. The past is a memory, the future is unknown, but this moment—this breath, this feeling—is real. If we live too much in the past, we might miss the beauty of now.

But how can we truly let go of the things and memories we have held on to for so long? Often we think the things we cherished were true happiness—believing they were meant to be kept—or sometimes we can’t let go of past pain, not knowing that the very act of holding on to it makes it more painful than it has to be.

Everything we hold on to internally affects the present moment. We carry memories, fantasies, regrets, pain, as if they are reality, but they are not. They are illusions—images we keep inside our heads and in our hearts. How, then, can we truly let go and make space for the new?

It is not easy. We know that we hold on to too much and carry too much. Even when we say, “Okay, I will let go, I will live for today,” tomorrow comes, and with it the loneliness and self-forgetting… and we unknowingly feel the urge to reminisce something, just like when day turns to nights without you noticing. We feel the need to feel something, and so we bring ourselves back into the past once again!

But this is not right. We are filling our minds with the past, and the more we hold on, the deeper we become attached. The more we cherish the old, the harder it becomes to let go and begin a new day, a new life.

For example, when our loved ones pass away, all we can do is remember them. Yes, we may remember them, but we must not indulge in sadness or immerse ourselves in misery. This life, this world, is a fleeting illusion. We must accept the immutable truth that we all pass away—that everything is impermanent.

Let me share how I coped when my dear one passed away…

Just two years ago, my older sister died. We were very close; we grew up together. Before she died, she kept calling and messaging me, asking me to visit her in the hospital. But I was weak, a coward, and I preferred to distance myself, unable to face her situation. She sent me photos, and I felt deep pain and heartache because she no longer looked the same. I could see that she was truly dying.

Then came the call from my mother. My sister had surrendered. She gave up the struggle, choosing to leave this world rather than endure the agony of a body full of suffering. Her pain was so immense that death became her relief. I went to see her when her breath had already ceased. Her body was bruised from injections. I didn’t cry… I couldn’t cry. Was that really my sister? I couldn’t believe it. My sister was a fighter, full of fire and life. This lifeless body—I couldn’t see it as her.

When she died, I didn’t cry, not even at her wake (a week-long funeral as is tradition in the Philippines). All I could do was be. I couldn’t believe it; I couldn’t process the reality that she was no longer here. She left behind four children—two boys and twin girls. She died just a year after giving birth to the twins.

I told her, in my heart, that I would look after her children and that she could go peacefully.

At the last day of the wake, I finally wept. I told her that I loved her deeply and that I couldn’t believe she was truly gone. But I also knew—she was still alive, burning within my heart. I told her she had cheated me; three times she had given birth, and I looked after her and her babies. She had promised me that when I had my own first baby, she would be there for me. But how could she, when she left so early?

Later, after learning Gnosis, I visited her in the astral. I saw that she had a husband and children there. She asked me why I was there, telling me, “This is not your place.” I saw that she was happy wherever she is and whatever she needs to experience in the afterlife after a life cut short… still a mother, still continuing her own path. Sometimes, we still visit each other, and she is still my same sister, with the same fire, love and cheekiness.

In the end, did I let her go? Yes, I did. Because I understood and accepted that her life in this material world had ended.

Sometimes we must let go—not only of things or people, but also of replaying memories or un-lived desires we carry internally, and even of those we love. We must give them peace by having peace within, and attachment is not peace—attachment refuses the new.

There is a certain kind of miracle in letting go—when we resist what has happened, it persists, but if we surrender; growth, expansion and understanding are born out of it. On the other hand, attachment delays wisdom. I see clearly that what me and dear sister went through—our shared past—is only a fleeting illusion of this life. Insignifcant temporary images on the surface. What remains eternal is love. True love does not fade. It stays, and its fire continues to burn within our hearts and continues on in the stars…

I love my sister deeply. But I no longer need to remember or dwell in the past with her, because I believe she is with me—not in my mind, but here in my heart.

Most of the time, we lose our way because we look backward. Yet, there are moments when we must simply accept that not everything will unfold according to our desires. Certain events are destined, and our earthly life is but a fleeting breath. Why, then, do we choose to dwell on the past and drag it into the present—when we do not even know if tomorrow will come? Just as in my sister’s case, she only lived a mere 25 years…

If we truly let go, live for eternal love in this moment, and awaken to the reality of today, we will discover profound peace beyond what the ego can imagine when it is trapped in attachments. The burdens we carry will dissolve, for we will have cast off the chains of memory.

When the mind stops searching, when it stops wanting refuge, when it no longer goes in search of security, when it no longer craves more […], when it ignores even the memory of desire, only then will Love arrive within. — Samael Aun Weor

I cannot describe to you the essence of this liberation—it is yours alone to experience in the depths of your own Being. Today is a sacred gift from God. Today is the only certainty. We do not know if tomorrow will be granted, so the greatest offering we can make—for ourselves and for those we love—is to be fully present, fully conscious, here and now.

We must begin to live with the pure awareness of a child. A child is wholly present, fully conscious of the moment. Let us live and walk the path that leads to innocence and purity, for this is the divine purpose of our existence—the reason the Lord has preserved our life until now. The fact that we are alive, here and now, proves that it is possible.

Letting go of the past is not mere forgetting; it is the conscious refusal to remain chained to what no longer serves our awakening. To rise, we must loosen the grip of old identities and karmic weights, striving always toward the supreme goal: union with the Being. Union is never born without death of the old. Death paradoxically leads to rebirth.

May we all walk this path with courage, with clarity, and with the profound remembrance that true peace is not found in escape, but in conscious transformation.

“Let us live from instant to instant, from moment to moment. Only the present exists; the past is already gone, and the future does not yet exist. Whoever wants to transform his life must learn to live wisely.” — Samael Aun Weor