Day 10: provando e riprovando
We have quickly reached Double figures.
And today i am Still hypnotized by the moon.
Today was physically exhausting: by 4 or 5pm I had nothing left and had to crawl into bed until 7. My body demanded stillness. Fatigue is heavy.
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Today was Pride in Doncaster. And All day, the word freedom kept circling me. What it means for people, in many ways. Freedom as adventure. As the ability to inhabit your authentic self. To choose who you are, who you love, where you belong. Freedom as safety. As an ethical, moral, philosophical, and physical act.
Freedom as a shift in the mind’s eye: the way you look at the horizon and know it’s not the end, just the beginning of something unseen.
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By bath time, I opened Carlo Rovelli’s White Holes, a book I bought partly for its cover, partly because I’m in the middle of finding my own horizon.
Rovelli writes about black holes, white holes, and the strange, luminous thresholds where what we know ends and the unknown begins.
A horizon is a border, but it’s also a bridge.
We walk along it, back and forth, searching for the gap. We carry some things with us: knowledge, maps, truths we trust.
and we leave other things behind: ideas that no longer serve, beliefs that hold us back. Too much baggage and we can’t move forward; too much letting go and we lose the tools we need to navigate.
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Freedom works the same way.
It’s not just release: it’s an active choosing. A balancing act between what we carry and what we surrender. It’s lingering at the edges of what we understand, daring to imagine the leap.
White holes - the theoretical opposites of black holes - don’t swallow light; they give it away. They spill matter and brightness outwards, endlessly. They are the universe’s refusal to collapse inwards, the cosmic insistence on giving. They literally bounce back.
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Tonight the moon feels like one of them: perfect for manifesting. A mirror for the people in my life who are white holes themselves, flinging their light into my dark moments, pouring out warmth, ideas, care, possibility. I’m so grateful for every one of them.
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Maybe that’s the deepest freedom:
to be our own white hole,
to give without emptying,
to expand the horizon until it breaks.