Connection is the meeting point where life becomes real. It is the way sounds, senses, people, and nature influence one another in the present moment. Connection is the link between you and everything around you, the vibration that makes an experience alive.

Take a sound as an example, it only exists because something vibrates, air carries it, and our ears receive it. Music is nothing more than a connection of sounds woven together. Nature is a living network of organisms depending on each other in ways we can barely comprehend. Even a simple moment of taste, smell, or touch is a chain of connections between the world and our senses.

When we don’t feel the connections around us, we start living in the future or the past. We imagine stories, chase expectations, replay memories. But none of that is real. The only real moment is the one where connection happens: now.

To be present is to feel life connecting itself around you.

Next time you’re in nature, let the sounds layer over each other. Listen to leaves moving, water flowing, and birds calling, not as separate noises, but as one living conversation. It means slowing down when you eat, letting the flavors rise, mix, and dissolve. It means letting music enter you, noticing how each note relies on the one before it.

This is why the past and the future lose their power when you tune into what is happening right now. They are ideas, not experiences. They do not vibrate. They do not breathe. They do not connect. Only the present does.

Connections create life, and being alive is about feeling those connections, feeling the energy they generate. Go to nature, close your eyes, feel life!

To appreciate life, appreciate connection. The more we recognize this, the more alive we become.

– Matt Delac

The Sound Of Silence (English version)

I heard you once,
now I want to see you.
I heard you twice,
now I talk like you.

You heard me once,
You turned to silence.
You heard me twice
You kept the silence still.

I have seen enough
to know desire is patient,
Yet you do not fall,
not even when the night leans in.

Hours later, I wondered
what any of it meant.
A look, a pause, a breath,
nothing that can be claimed.

You move through my thoughts
like light passing a window.
Here for a moment,
Gone before I can name it.

So let the story stay unfinished.
I wish I were speechless
Instead, I am still searching
for the shape of your lips.

– Matt Delac

Le Bruit Du Silence (French version)

Je t’ai entendu une fois,
maintenant je veux te voir.
Je t’ai entendu deux fois. 
Maintenant je parle comme toi.

Tu m’as entendu une fois,
Tu es restée silencieuse.
Tu m’as entendu deux fois
Et tu as continué ton silence.

J’en ai vu assez
pour savoir que le désir est patient,
Pourtant tu ne cèdes pas,
Même quand la nuit tombe.

Quelques heures plus tard, je me suis demandé
Ce que tout cela signifiait.
Un regard, une pause, un souffle,
Rien qui puisse être revendiqué.

Tu traverses mes pensées
Comme la lumière qui passe à travers une fenêtre.
Présente un instant,
Disparue avant que je puisse la nommer.

Alors laissons l’histoire inachevée.
J’aimerais être sans voix,
Mais au lieu de cela, je cherche encore
La forme de tes lèvres.

– Matt Delac

A life of freedom, design, and control. I live in Lisbon, I run a successful company that empowers women to learn how to code, I’m fit, healthy, and constantly improving myself. I have a beautiful home, I travel often, and I’m surrounded by art, music, and creativity.

But I’m still single.

And recently, I decided to ask myself the question I’ve avoided for years: why?

The uncomfortable truth

The truth hit me harder than I expected – not because it was dramatic, but because it was simple.

I’ve built my world so perfectly that there’s no space left for someone else to enter it.

Everything in my life has been designed to work exactly the way I want it to. My home, my schedule, my goals, even my skincare routine – all optimized. That kind of control feels good. It creates peace. But love doesn’t grow in perfect order; it grows in chaos. It needs space, unpredictability, and surrender.

And that’s where I struggle.

The armor of excellence

For most of my life, I thought that being a better man – more disciplined, successful, confident – would make me more lovable. But excellence can become a kind of armor.

When you’re used to achieving everything through control, you start believing love works the same way – that if you “get it right,” the right person will appear. But love isn’t earned through mastery; it’s received through openness.

That’s the part I’ve resisted. Vulnerability. Letting someone see me – not just the version I’ve built, but the man underneath: the one who doubts, who misses connection, who gets lonely sometimes.

What I’ve learned

The more I reflect, the more I realize that staying single hasn’t been an accident. It’s been a form of self-protection.

I’ve created a life that’s so self-sufficient that I never have to depend on anyone. That’s safe – but it’s also isolating. Because deep down, I don’t just want someone to admire my life. I want someone to share it. To build something together that’s messy, unpredictable, and human.

And that means doing something uncomfortable: letting go of control.

The shift

Here’s what I’m learning now:

• Leave room for surprise. Not everything needs to be scheduled or optimized. Spontaneity is the oxygen of love.

• Lead with feeling, not perfection. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s truth without armor.

• Be present, not impressive. Women don’t fall in love with your résumé – they fall in love with how they feel around you.

• Create emotional space. Not just physical room in your life, but mental and emotional openness.

What I want next

I’m not chasing “the one.” I’m learning to recognize her when she appears – the woman with whom I can feel peace in the silence, laughter in the chaos, and warmth without effort.

I don’t want someone to complete me. I want someone to co-create with me – a partner, not a guest.

And maybe the reason it took me so many years to learn this is because I needed to build everything else first. So that when I finally meet her, I’ll know what truly matters isn’t perfection – it’s presence.

– Matt Delac

With music, for example, I’ll sit down at the piano or guitar and stumble through a piece again and again. Some days it feels clumsy, while others are smoother. Then I’ll step away, sleep, and when I come back, the impossible suddenly feels natural. My fingers flow more easily. Something has shifted, not because of brute effort in the moment, but because my body and mind adapted while I wasn’t looking.

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” - Aristotle

This process is familiar in weightlifting: you push the muscle to the point of breakdown, then growth happens during recovery. But I’ve come to see it as a universal principle of life. Practice is half the story. The other half is stepping away long enough for your system to catch up and build something more substantial than before.

For years, I thought success meant relentless work. As an entrepreneur building companies like SheCodes, I was constantly in motion, always doing. It got me far, but it also left little space for recovery. Only later, after taking breaks, traveling, or even just sleeping more, did I realize how much adaptation happens in the quiet. My company grew, but I grew most when I allowed myself to pause.

Now, as I dive into new skills such as music production, photography, writing, or languages, I notice the same pattern. The hours of practice matter, but what transforms me are the gaps in between. Time off the instrument is when my ear sharpens. Time away from the camera is when my eye begins to see. Time disconnected from work is when the bigger vision reveals itself.

Adaptation is not just about skill - it’s about capacity. An idea often arrives just out of reach, shimmering in the distance. We chase it, stumble toward it, return to it again and again. Each time, our capacity stretches to meet it. This is how music takes form, how businesses are born, how people evolve.

I’ve come to believe this cycle (practice, pause, adapt) isn’t only a personal process. It’s life itself, expressing its will through us. Ideas don’t really belong to us; they pass through us. Our job is to listen, to practice, to stretch ourselves enough to hold them. And then to let the silence do its work.

We adapt because life asks us to. And if we choose to participate, the result is more than progress on a skill or a business; it’s our small part in the ongoing creation of something greater than ourselves.

Matt Delac

I entered another reality. A reality designed to create, to sing, to dance, to express.

And in that world, music, time, and space were just concepts.

There was no beginning or end to a song, no structure, no performance.

There was no time. No space.

Everything was infinite. The further you looked, the more there was.

Just like the universe, it is limitless and unfolding. In that space, there was no judgment. It was a non-judgmental world.

No “good” or “bad.” I could sing whatever I felt. Move however I wanted.

Just be.

It felt amazing.

It was peace.

It was freedom.

What is freedom?

It’s not money.

It’s not five villas and 50 cars.

Those things may provide access to flight tickets, food, and shelter, but they aren’t freedom.

Owning too much can even get in the way. Because freedom is not about having, it’s about allowing.

It’s the ability to do what you feel, in the moment.

To move from truth.

To be without shame.

Then came the moment that surprised me most.

I hugged myself.

Not mentally. Physically.

And I cried, I cried a lot!

Not from pain, but from recognition.

From the feeling of giving myself something I’ve always looked for outside:

Love. Wholeness. Permission.

It wasn’t ego-driven. It wasn’t performative.

It was authentic self-love.

Gentle. Comforting. True.

And now I finally believe in it, not in a narcissistic way, but in a way that says:

“You are already enough. You don’t need to be fixed to be loved.”

That hug… was something I’ll never forget.

What now?

I feel different. I feel light.

Not high. Not overwhelmed.

Just… ready.

Ready to open a new chapter in my life.

To explore.

To connect.

To accept myself fully, flaws and all.

To live freely.

To enjoy what life brings.

To open my eyes and just be.

Special thanks

To my therapist Ana, who, coincidentally, celebrated her birthday today. You have allowed me to be myself, encouraged me since the day we met, and helped me find my new path in life. Thank you and happy birthday!

To my good friends Greg, Alex, and Rasmus for picking me up after all my sessions and helping me turn these experiences into something meaningful.

To Ksusha, who has been by my side all these weeks and witnessed this transformation. Thank you for always being here.

To Silvia, for reading all my posts since I started this journey 3 weeks ago, and encouraging me to write more.

Last but not least, to my beautiful mother for listening to my learnings and sharing her precious wisdom with me.

It’s been a gift to discover this new path with all of you ❤️ Thank you so much.

— Matt Delac

This time, it wasn’t about visions or symbols in the usual sense. It was quieter, almost like a whisper through the body.

I entered a K-hole (for the first time, I believe). But what stayed with me was not the intensity. It was the simplicity.

At some point, I kept repeating a phrase with these words out loud, not like a thought, but like a knowing:

Open your eyes and just be.

Not in a poetic way. Not as a philosophy. But as something to do.

I then realized that other philosophers I truly respect had the same insights:

“The ultimate truth is so simple. It is to just be.” – Eckhart Tolle

“We’re so busy being somebody that we forget to just be.” – Ram Dass

“You do not have to prove yourself. Just be.” – Yung Pueblo

The True Reality

I then saw stars behind a veil of clouds. And I realized the clouds were my thoughts, my projections, my fears, my noise. The stars were always there, still, silent, and real.

The insight was simple:

“If I focus too much on the wrong reality, the clouds, I’ll never see the stars.

But if I just be still… the clouds might pass and will see the true reality.”

It was a picture of reality I hadn’t quite seen before: The True Reality behind reality.

I felt at peace, and it felt amazing.

What I felt today wasn’t something I “reached.” It was already there, underneath.

Peace isn’t a reward. It’s a default.

It lives behind the clouds. It shows up when I stop reaching, performing, and narrating.

And the crazy thing is:

Peace is not boring. It’s energizing.

It makes you feel light. It’s freedom from internal friction. I’ve realized that peace doesn’t come from solving everything.

It comes from not needing everything to be solved right now.

And it’s not passive. It’s a skill. A state. A muscle you build by doing less, seeing more, and not reacting to every cloud that drifts across your sky.

So what now?

I don’t need to add more. I don’t need to fix anything. Now, I just need to remember:

Open your eyes and just be.

I felt it, and it felt great!

And I don’t want to live in the clouds anymore. I want to see the stars.

“The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”

―Alan Wilson Watts

And now, I realize there are some truths I’m starting to live with… that most people still run from, or never get the chance to hear. This isn’t about being better. It’s just about being honest.

1. Most people are chasing a future that never arrives

Success, validation, control, recognition, it’s always around the corner.

But I’ve seen that real peace doesn’t live in arrival. It lives in the present. It’s quiet. Grounded. And already here.

“Desire is a contract you make with yourself to be unhappy until you get what you want.”

Naval Ravikant

2. The voice in your head isn’t you

For most of my life, I let The Driver steer. Focused, fast, controlling, always ahead of the moment.

But I’ve met another part of myself, calmer, slower, more curious. And now I see: the loudest voice isn’t always the truest.

“There is nothing more important to true growth than realizing that you are not the voice of the mind, you are the one who hears it.”

Michael A. Singer

3. Beauty doesn’t need to be earned

It’s not a reward. It’s a signal. When I’m present, relaxed, and not trying to get anything from the moment…

I notice beauty everywhere: Light. Geometry. The shape of a silence. It doesn’t need explanation. Only permission to be felt.

“Beauty is not something you buy; instead, beauty is what you become.”

John O’Donohue

4. Death isn’t what I thought it was

I had a vision recently of dying in nature. And instead of fear, I felt peace.

Not as an escape. But as a return. And now I feel less rushed. Less scared.

Because I know the end isn’t an ending, it’s part of the same rhythm.

“Death is like taking off a tight shoe.”

Ram Dass

5. Overthinking is a symptom of disconnection

I used to think more meant understanding more.

Now, it’s hard to overthink. Not because I’ve given up, but because I’ve let go.

The answers I trust now don’t come from the top of my mind. They come from somewhere quieter, lower, slower.

“Thinking has become a disease. Disease happens when things get out of balance. The mind is a superb instrument if used rightly. Used wrongly, it becomes very destructive.”

Eckhart Tolle

6. Generosity isn’t sacrifice, it’s alignment

I hosted my birthday last week. I didn’t want to be celebrated. I wanted to create a moment of care for others.

And it felt better than any gift. Giving without needing to be seen gave me a strange kind of self-respect. I didn’t lose energy. I gained peace.

“You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”

Kahlil Gibran

7. Most people are still living inside someone else’s voice

That harsh inner critic? For me, it was my father’s voice, repackaged.

Most people never stop to ask: “Whose voice am I obeying?” But when you do… things soften.

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.”

James Baldwin

8. Silence isn’t empty

It’s full. Alive. It’s where things make sense without explanation. And it’s where I finally feel at home.

“Listen to the silence. It has so much to say.”

Rumi

I’m not saying I’ve figured life out. I haven’t. But I’ve stopped running.

And now, I’m learning how to walk, slowly, gently, with my eyes open. And it feels good to finally see.

- Matt Delac

One of them is always thinking ahead—about outcomes, expectations, what might go wrong, and what needs to be optimized. This voice doesn’t rest. It plans. It predicts. It builds. I call this one The Driver.

The other voice lives here, now. It notices light. It feels rhythmic. It doesn’t need a reason to pause—it pauses because something inside says, “this matters.” That voice is quieter, slower, and closer to who I was before I learned to prove myself. I call it Tuk Tuk Matt.

The Driver lives in the future. Tuk Tuk Matt lives in the present.

The Driver is probably the voice of my father, or what I internalized from him. He pushed, not out of cruelty, but out of fear. He wanted me to be strong. And for a while, it worked. I built. I performed. I earned. But something got lost: my ability to feel beauty as it’s happening. Not to recognize it, or analyze it, but just to let it move through me.

Tuk Tuk Matt doesn’t need to explain beauty.

He just feels it. He also loves geometry, but not for the numbers or the symmetry he can calculate. He loves it because it brings peace. It reminds him that something deeper is holding everything in place.

The Driver sees geometry and says, “That’s efficient. That’s correct. That’s balanced.” Tuk Tuk Matt sees geometry and exhales.

And lately… they’re starting to get along.

The Driver used to run the show. He was loud, urgent, always one step ahead. But something is shifting. Now, when I see beauty, I let Tuk Tuk Matt speak first. And The Driver listens.

One brings structure. The other brings meaning.

One protects. The other connects. They don’t fight anymore. They ride together, one steering, the other watching the light fall through the trees.

– Matt Delac

Most people hear the word ego and instantly think of arrogance, narcissism, or inflated self-importance. But as some people suggest, ego isn’t the enemy: it’s just a part of us. The real issue isn’t whether you have an ego (you do), but whether it’s balanced. I now see ego as a tool that you should balance based on your life's needs.

“The moment you become aware of the ego in you, it is strictly no longer the ego but just an old, conditioned mind-pattern.”

— Eckhart Tolle

So, what is ego exactly?

Your ego is your sense of self, the story you tell yourself about who you are. It helps you define your identity, make informed decisions, set boundaries, and navigate the world effectively. It’s what allows you to say, “This is me.”

But like anything powerful, ego needs to be managed. Too much, and you become blind to your flaws, driven by image, needing control. Too little, and you shrink, lose confidence, and let others define you.

I realize how much my ego had controlled me in the past few years, and it would sometimes make me feel miserable.

Signs of an Inflated Ego

• You feel the need to prove your worth constantly

• You take criticism personally or get defensive

• You over-identify with success or status

• You dominate conversations instead of listening

• You rarely say “I don’t know” or “I was wrong.”

Signs of a Weak Ego

• You doubt your value even when others believe in you

• You apologize for your presence or hold back your voice

• You seek constant external validation

• You avoid risks because you’re afraid to fail

What Does a Balanced Ego Look Like?

• Grounded confidence. You believe in yourself without needing to prove anything.

• Openness. You welcome feedback without collapsing or getting defensive.

• Authenticity. You’re not trying to impress; you’re trying to express.

• Calm power. You can let go of control, be vulnerable, and still feel strong.

Ego balance is about owning your value without inflating it. It’s about being able to say “I matter” without needing others to matter less. It’s a quiet strength. A centered presence. A way of being that feels both powerful and peaceful.

And when do you feel that balance? It’s not loud. It’s not needy. It just feels right.

Before I could name my feelings, before I understood words like “beauty” or “meaning,” I understood geometry.

Not through math class. Through feeling.

There was something about the curve of an object, the balance between shapes, the way a design held itself upright with no effort, that always made sense to me. Geometry was quiet, but it spoke clearly.

Why geometry calms me

There’s a kind of stillness in geometry that’s hard to explain.

When I see symmetry, proportion, or harmonious structure, something inside me relaxes. It’s like my nervous system recognizes a pattern it trusts.

A clean arc. A perfect circle. A golden ratio.

Not dramatic. Not loud. But perfectly placed.

And in a world full of noise, that kind of quiet order feels like safety.

It’s not just visual, it’s emotional.

For me, geometry isn’t about precision. It’s about coherence. It’s the difference between chaos and clarity. Between things falling apart and things holding together, without trying too hard.

It reminds me that the world doesn’t need to be controlled, just understood at the right level. That some things aren’t meant to be improved, just witnessed in balance.

Geometry in movement, sound, and form

What I’ve come to realize is that geometry isn’t limited to lines on a page. It lives in the body, in sound, in flow.

In Qi Gong, every movement is part of a larger arc, circular energy, spiraling intention, weight shifting in perfect balance. It’s like drawing shapes in space with your breath.

In art, especially sacred or minimalist design, geometry brings order to chaos; it’s the frame through which beauty can breathe.

Even in electronic music, the repetition of rhythm, layering of patterns, and precise use of space all mirror geometric structures. Good tracks feel like invisible architecture—something symmetrical but alive, something you don’t just hear but feel with your whole nervous system.

Whether it’s motion, composition, or vibration, geometry is the structure beneath beauty, waiting to be felt.

I see it in tree branches. In music. In silence.

- Matt Delac

And in that stillness, I saw beauty. Not beauty as in “wow, that’s impressive.” But beauty as in “this is exactly what it is, and that’s enough.”

What does that even mean?

Usually, I approach the world with a kind of subtle tension. Even in nature, or in silence, there’s this voice in my head evaluating, translating, interpreting.

What does this mean? What can I learn from it? Is this useful? Profound? Worth sharing?

That part of me has helped me achieve a great deal in life. But it’s also the part that makes me miss the actual moment. It replaces presence with processing.

Yesterday, for the first time in a long time…

I just looked. I didn’t measure or name anything.

I let the light filter through the trees without asking why. I let the sound of music exist without labeling them “relaxing.” I let the world be. The unspeakable world as they say.

And in that stillness, I felt a strange kind of warmth, like the world was inviting me back into it, not to do anything, but just to feel it. It was beautiful. Not because it was aesthetic. But because it was true.

Feeling over figuring

This might sound subtle, but it changes everything:

When we stop trying to figure out if something is meaningful, we create the space to feel that it already is.

No effort. No interpretation. Just direct experience. That’s what beauty really is, I think, truth that doesn’t ask to be understood.

What Taoism taught me about this

Taoism has this quiet wisdom about beauty:

That true beauty comes from things simply being what they are, without trying to be anything else.

A crooked tree is beautiful because it’s authentically crooked. A river is beautiful because it flows without asking permission.

The Tao says: “When the world knows beauty as beauty, ugliness arises.”

That line struck me. Because the moment we start judging, we start comparing. And the moment we compare, we leave the present.

But when we stop naming everything, we start feeling it.

That’s when beauty appears, not because we chased it, but because we finally stopped chasing everything else.

A note to myself

You don’t need to process everything.

You don’t need to explain every insight.

You don’t need to wring wisdom out of every quiet moment.

Sometimes it’s enough to stand in the light,

watch the leaves move,

and let yourself feel what you feel.

That’s where beauty lives.

That’s where life actually happens.

And that’s what I’m trying to trust more, day by day.

- Matt Delac

The first pushed me to be sharp, fast, and productive. It is obsessed with winning. It wakes up with a plan, checks five things at once, and believes that value comes from doing, building, and proving. It’s helped me achieve a lot, but lately, it’s also been exhausting me.

The second voice is quieter. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t need to impress anyone. It wants to explore, discover, and embrace new experiences. It shows up like a warm breeze on a hot day. I often ignore this one.

During my session, this voice was represented by a wise and warm Indian man on his Tuk Tuk, telling me to join him and this world of exploration and peace. I call this voice Tuk Tuk Matt. Here’s a representation of this voice:

Tuk Tuk Matt isn’t trying to get anywhere fast

He’s that part of me that remembers:

“Life isn’t a race. You’re allowed to move slow. You’re allowed to breathe.”

He wears soft orange clothes. He smiles at strangers.

He drives a tuk-tuk, not a fast car, not because he can’t afford one, but because he’s not in a hurry anymore.

The voice I usually listen to?

Let’s be honest: it’s the driver's voice.

The builder. The grinder. The one who needs to get better, grow faster, think deeper, and optimize everything.

It’s also the voice that says:

• “You’re falling behind.”

• “You should be doing more.”

• “Don’t stop, people will forget you.”

And it’s the one that keeps opening new tabs, refreshing Slack, asking ChatGPT one more question (😅), hoping that clarity or peace will come from more input.

But that voice doesn’t bring peace. It just loops over and over.

So what does Tuk Tuk Matt say?

• “You already know enough for today.”

• “Take the scenic route.”

• “The pressure you feel isn’t truth.”

• “Sit down. Breathe. You’re allowed to rest.”

And when I listen to him, even for a minute, something amazing happens: I feel free.

Not because I escaped anything, but because I stopped trying to be anything more than human.

Why I’m writing this

Because I’m starting to understand that success didn’t make me whole. And more input doesn’t lead to more peace.

What I really want now is clarity, quiet strength, and inner direction, and that only comes when I make space for the second voice.

So I’m learning to listen. To pause. To go offline. To let Tuk Tuk Matt drive sometimes. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the real journey begins.

If you’re feeling burned out, scattered, or like you’re always chasing something, maybe it’s not because you’re lost. Maybe it’s just because you haven’t heard your own quieter voice in a long time. Let’s give him the wheel for a while.

- 🛺 Matt Delac

From the outside, I have a life most people would admire. Freedom, financial success, beautiful things, and meaningful work. But quietly, I’ve been noticing something more profound: a growing sense that the old ways of living no longer feel aligned. Like something real is stirring underneath all the noise.

At first, I didn’t have a name for it.

Then I started reading and reflecting more. That’s when I came across something that resonated: awakening or, as Buddha called it, enlightenment.

Did Buddha Really Exist?

Yes. Siddhartha Gautama, better known as the Buddha, was a real person who lived around 2,500 years ago in what is now Nepal and India. He was born a prince, but walked away from his palace life in search of something more profound. After years of meditation, fasting, and inner work, he experienced what he called enlightenment, a profound realization of truth beyond the ego, beyond illusion.

He then spent his life teaching others how to access that same inner clarity.

But it turns out Buddhism isn’t the only tradition with this idea. In fact, nearly every culture in human history has described this shift.

Different Names, Same Shift

• In Hinduism, it’s called Moksha, liberation from illusion and unity with the divine.

• In Taoism, it’s aligning with the Tao, the effortless flow of nature.

• In Christian mysticism, it’s union with God, letting go of ego, and surrendering to divine presence.

• In Sufism, it’s called Fana, the annihilation of the self, and Baqa, living through divine love.

• In Indigenous traditions, it’s a felt sense of oneness with Earth, spirit, and ancestors.

Even modern psychology has its version: ego death, flow, or self-actualization.

Different words. Different contexts. But the same core experience.

It’s not religious. It’s human.

The 3 Stages of Awakening

What I’ve learned is that this process tends to unfold in three phases:

1. Disillusionment – The Cracking Open

The old story starts falling apart. What used to motivate you: money, attention, speed, success, starts to feel empty. You begin questioning everything.

👉 That was me over the past couple of years. Even as I succeeded, I started asking: Is this it?

2. Awakening – The Shift Begins

You start feeling life differently. Less driven by pressure. More drawn to presence, simplicity, and creativity. You’re no longer trying to escape; you’re trying to feel.

👉 This is where I am now. I’m noticing more and feeling more. Slowing down. Making music. Letting go of things that no longer feel true.

3. Integration – Living Awake

Eventually, this shift becomes who you are. You stop striving for meaning and start living from it. You act with clarity. You feel peaceful, even in chaos. You no longer need to prove anything. You live by truth, not performance. Peace and presence are your baseline, not your goal. Your actions are aligned, your identity is fluid, and your boundaries are clear.

👉 I’m not there yet, but I can feel it calling. This is what I believe true enlightenment is.

So What Now?

I’ve started a simple daily practice: journaling, fully immersing myself in music, walking, and savoring silence.

I’m making space, not for answers, but for honesty. I’m not chasing the next big thing. I’m listening for what’s real. I need to keep listening.

- Matt Delac

During my very first session today, and as the ketamine took effect, I experienced something incredible. I began to feel myself slowly dissolving, my body, my thoughts, even my identity, blurring into something larger, quieter. It wasn’t frightening. It was peaceful.

I saw myself dying, not in fear or pain, but in the embrace of nature.

That’s right, I don’t think I would ever say this, but I saw myself dying, not in fear or pain, but in the embrace of nature.

There was no resistance, just a sense of surrender, like being carried by a current I could trust.

I watched as I was buried in the earth, and it wasn’t morbid, it was beautiful. Nature wasn’t taking me away. It was taking me back. The soil, the trees, the air, all seemed to welcome me like a long-lost part of themselves. I wasn’t dying. I was returning.

This is what I saw:

In that moment, I realized something profound:

Nature is not separate from us, it is us.

There was love in the roots, in the wind, in the silence. A kind of unconditional, wordless love. One that didn’t need me to earn or achieve it. Just to be.

And then I saw the conflict:

• Time demands speed, productivity, and achievement.

• Nature moves in cycles of stillness and presence.

There’s a tension there, a tension I carry inside me. My ego wants to keep building, doing, proving. But this experience showed me something deeper:

The next chapter of my life is not about building more. It’s about giving more.

About returning to what matters. About loving without pressure. About contributing, not from a place of ego, but from a place of being deeply human.

- Matt Delac

🎶 A song from my latest album that I listened to right before it happened:

And in many ways, I’ve reached that point. I live where I want. I drive the car I used to dream about. I work when I want to. I’ve built something I’m proud of. I’ve helped people – thousands of women learn how to code and change their lives. And yet, I find myself asking the question:

And now what?

This isn’t a dramatic question. It’s not depression or a crisis. It’s just… real. There’s this quiet space after the climb where the air gets thin. Where the external rewards start to mean less, and the internal questions get louder.

What actually brings me joy?

What kind of relationships do I want?

What’s worth waking up for – now that I don’t have to?

I’m sharing this because most of us grow up thinking that financial success will bring happiness. And it does, to an extent. But I’ve learned something I wish I had understood earlier:

Success doesn’t fill the silence inside.

Only meaning does. Only connection. Only truth.

So now I’m searching – not for more things, but for more life.

More beauty. More peace. More presence. More purpose.

And maybe that’s where real success begins.

- Matt Delac

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I created this album during a period when I was seeking more calmness and clarity in my life. Each track carries a mood, a texture, a moment. It’s music to play while journaling, walking, driving at night, or just being with yourself.

I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope it gives you something, even if it’s just a breath.

You can listen to it below. Let me know what it makes you feel.

Tathata, one of my favorite tracks:

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