fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the lesser known truths in the health and wellness world of Longevity.
When the Mind Rests: The Art of Inner Listening
There’s a moment in meditation — rare, delicate — when the mind, after so much effort and noise, finally grows quiet. It doesn’t disappear, exactly. It just loosens its grip. Thoughts drift by like clouds instead of storms, and what remains underneath feels vast and alive. In that silence, a different kind of listening begins — not to sound or thought, but to the pulse of awareness itself.
By Jonse Grade3 months ago in Longevity
Resting in Change: When Letting Go Becomes Home
Change has always made me uneasy. Even the small ones — the end of a season, the shift of a daily routine, a friend moving away — used to leave me feeling unmoored, as if something solid beneath me had quietly dissolved. I longed for stability, for something I could hold onto without fear of losing it. But life, with its patient wisdom, kept teaching me the same lesson in a thousand quiet ways: everything moves. Everything changes. And the more tightly I held on, the more life slipped through my grasp.
By Garold One3 months ago in Longevity
Quiet Confidence: The Strength Found in Softness
There was a time when I thought strength had to be loud — that it needed to announce itself in certainty, in speed, in the ability to push through. I admired people who seemed untouchable, self-assured, always moving forward. I wanted that same kind of confidence, the kind that didn’t waver. But the more I tried to build it, the more brittle I became. It was as if I’d built a shell of strength, not realizing how easily shells can crack.
By Victoria Marse3 months ago in Longevity
The Subtle Art of Enough: Contentment Without Completion
There’s a quiet kind of hunger that seems to hum beneath modern life — not for food or shelter, but for more. More success, more clarity, more growth, more proof that we’re doing enough, being enough. Even in meditation, that same subtle striving sneaks in. We sit to find peace, to become mindful, to reach some imagined point of completion. Yet the deeper I travel into practice, the more I realize: there is no finish line in awareness. There’s only the art of enough.
By Black Mark3 months ago in Longevity
The Tender Edge of Awareness: Meeting Life Without Armor
There’s a moment in meditation when awareness sharpens — not in the way a blade does, but like the surface of water catching light. Everything becomes startlingly clear: the breath, the heartbeat, the subtle hum of emotion that runs beneath thought. It’s beautiful, but it can also feel raw. When we begin to pay real attention, we start to notice just how exposed living truly is. Awareness, in its purest form, is tender.
By Marina Gomez3 months ago in Longevity
Moments Between Moments: Touching Timeless Awareness
There’s a kind of silence that lives between moments — a pause so subtle it almost escapes notice. You might feel it just after a breath ends and before the next begins, or in the stillness that follows a sound fading into nothing. It’s easy to miss, yet when you catch it, everything opens. For an instant, the world seems to stop turning. The mind releases its grip on past and future. What remains is presence — vast, intimate, and strangely familiar.
By Jonse Grade3 months ago in Longevity
The Ground Beneath Effort: Surrender as Strength
For most of my life, I believed strength was a matter of holding on — of persistence, control, and sheer will. I measured my worth in motion, in what I could achieve, in how much I could endure. Stillness, surrender, softness — these felt like opposites of strength, like luxuries reserved for people who had already “earned” their rest. But life, as it often does, had its own lessons in store.
By Victoria Marse3 months ago in Longevity
Soft Boundaries: Holding Space Without Losing Yourself
There’s a tenderness in the act of caring for others — a sweetness that reminds us of connection, belonging, and love. But if you’ve ever found yourself drained after helping, heavy with someone else’s pain, or quietly resentful after saying yes when you meant no, you know how easily that tenderness can become tangled. I’ve been there — giving more than I had to give, mistaking self-sacrifice for compassion. It took me years to learn that true kindness has boundaries, and that those boundaries can be soft without being weak.
By Black Mark3 months ago in Longevity
Listening to the Unsaid: Awareness Beyond Words
Some truths arrive without language. They appear in the spaces between words — in the quiet glance between friends, in the way the air shifts after someone speaks, in the subtle tension that lingers when something has been left unspoken. The older I get, the more I realize how much of life exists in these in-between moments, where words fall short and awareness must take their place.
By Marina Gomez3 months ago in Longevity
Roots of Ease: Grounding Through the Body’s Wisdom
There are days when the mind feels like weather — changeable, unpredictable, full of static. I can wake up already carried forward by invisible momentum, my thoughts rushing ahead before my feet even touch the floor. It’s in those moments that I feel how easy it is to live entirely from the neck up, as if the body were just a vehicle for thought instead of a home for being.
By Garold One3 months ago in Longevity
Learning to Stay: The Art of Gentle Attention
There’s a quiet courage in staying — in choosing not to flee from discomfort, not to chase distraction, not to fix what simply needs to be felt. When I first began meditating, I didn’t understand this. I thought the goal was to transcend — to rise above my thoughts, my emotions, my body. I wanted peace, not presence. But the longer I practiced, the more I realized that mindfulness isn’t about escaping what’s here; it’s about learning to stay.
By Victoria Marse3 months ago in Longevity
Roots of Calm: Grounding Through the Body’s Wisdom
There are moments when life feels unmoored — when thoughts race ahead faster than the body can follow, when worry hums beneath the skin like static, when even rest feels restless. I’ve known those days too well. They come quietly, disguised as busyness or fatigue, and before I realize it, I’ve drifted far from myself — living from the neck up, all thought and no root.
By Jonse Grade4 months ago in Longevity
