You lift your head, you’re on your way, but really just to be walking, to be out of doors. That’s it, that’s all, and you’re there. Outdoors is our element: the exact sensation of living there.

Believe in whatever if you want believe in 'Jesus' the guy who probably doesn't exist.- If he is so powerful and magical as in the bible is said why he didn't save us with clapping hands or something like this and ... Tadatada here we are saved?? He is alive and everything is alive!- How for god sake the bad people go in heaven??You kill and you go heaven why??You don't have a thing to communicate so you go in heaven to talk about your travel?- If the stuff about 'Jesus' are true logically we should have the ability to go out of the body, which will mean that there is soul, which can't be hold by any thing which will go as far as I know (...Please don't say 'Oh, oh I don't like that Idea..' <--- it's logical, if you think in the same way you will find that what is it, believe or not... 'To go outside of the body and the body to be without a body the soul to be outside...' <--- you said soul exist didn't you??So now you complain, under soul there are a lot stuff to be put concluded which will mean to be put in the logical order.

During my life journey I've discovered an interesting thing once you stop seeking outside you discover what already resides within.

By stepping outside your comfort zone to do something peculiar, you confirm that you can do more than you've done. Move out!

This time, there’s no question of freeing yourself from artifice to taste simple joys. Instead there is the promise of meeting a freedom head-on as an outer limit of the self and of the human, an internal overflowing of a rebellious Nature that goes beyond you. Walking can provoke these excesses: surfeits of fatigue that make the mind wander, abundances of beauty that turn the soul over, excesses of drunkenness on the peaks, the high passes (where the body explodes). Walking ends by awakening this rebellious, archaic part of us: our appetites become rough and uncompromising, our impulses inspired. Because walking puts us on the vertical axis of life: swept along by the torrent that rushes just beneath us. What I mean is that by walking you are not going to meet yourself. By walking, you escape from the very idea of identity, the temptation to be someone, to have a name and a history. Being someone is all very well for smart parties where everyone is telling their story, it’s all very well for psychologists’ consulting rooms. But isn’t being someone also a social obligation which trails in its wake – for one has to be faithful to the self-portrait – a stupid and burdensome fiction? The freedom in walking lies in not being anyone; for the walking body has no history, it is just an eddy in the stream of immemorial life.

Every moment is a crossroad in time. Consider that, as above so below and as inside so outside and live accordingly.

Beauty is subjective and should not be limited to only what we see on the outside.

There is no window to look outside.There is no window to look within.Open the doors.

No matter what happens in the outside world, as long as you have faith in yourself, no darkness can touch you!

None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here: two legs suffice, and big eyes to see with. Walk alone, across mountains or through forests. You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery. You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. When you walk, the world has neither present nor future: nothing but the cycle of mornings and evenings. Always the same thing to do all day: walk. But the walker who marvels while walking (the blue of the rocks in a July evening light, the silvery green of olive leaves at noon, the violet morning hills) has no past, no plans, no experience. He has within him the eternal child. While walking I am but a simple gaze.