Tag: love

The Beauty of Being Loved for Who You Are

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There is a kind of love that does not arrive with thunder or grand gestures. It does not demand to be seen. It simply is quiet, steadfast, and radiant in its simplicity. It is the love that finds you when you are not performing, when your hair is uncombed, your thoughts a little tangled, and your heart unsure of its worth. It looks at you and does not flinch. It does not ask you to be brighter, softer, thinner, louder, or more like someone else. It simply says, “You are enough.”

We spend so much of life learning how to earn affection and shrinking to fit inside someone’s idea of beautiful. But the truest kind of love has no checklist, no conditional clauses. It does not wait for you to change. It begins with who you are now, and it whispers: stay.

There is quiet beauty in that. The beauty of being loved not for what you could become, but for what already blooms within you.

The love that sees you—truly sees you—does not shout. It hums softly in the background, like a melody you almost forgot. It is in the way someone remembers the story you told months ago, or how they know your silence isn’t disinterest, but reflection. It is the warmth of being held without being fixed. The ease of being known without needing to explain. It is the moment when someone looks at you and they see you. And you realize, perhaps for the first time, that you don’t have to be extraordinary to be loved. You only have to be real.

In the stories I write, I often return to this theme—the quiet kind of love that doesn’t need to announce itself. The love that happens between the words. It’s in the way one character traces the freckles on another’s arm, as if reading constellations. It’s in the pause before a confession, the held breath that carries more truth than a thousand declarations. It’s in the way they say nothing—and yet, everything is understood.

Romance, at its heart, is not always about passion that sets the sky on fire. Sometimes it’s the gentle warmth that lingers long after the sun has set. To be loved for who you are is a rare gift. It is someone saying, “I see your shadows, and I am not afraid.” It is love that does not try to rewrite your story but chooses to walk within it.

And perhaps that is the most profound kind of beauty—the quiet certainty that you can lay down your armor and still be cherished. That you can be imperfect, unguarded, and yet, somehow… still enough. Because love, when it is true, is not loud. It is patient. It is kind. It does not decorate you—it reveals you.

When the world grows loud again, remember this: You do not need to earn the right to be loved. You only need to be willing to be seen. There is quiet beauty in being loved for who you are and even greater beauty in learning to love yourself the same way.

Love,

Carmen

The Weight and the Wings of Being a Woman

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To be a woman today is to live between contradictions where expectations are heavy, yet dreams remain defiantly light. We are told to be everything at once: strong but gentle, ambitious but modest, self-sufficient yet nurturing. We are taught to rise—quietly, gracefully—while balancing the world on our shoulders.

From the moment we open our eyes each morning, the invisible choreography begins. We work, we care, we plan, we mend. We measure ourselves against impossible mirrors—society’s standards, our family’s hopes, our own hearts’ whispers. Yet behind every polished smile is a woman who fights daily battles no one sees: the fatigue that comes from trying to be “enough,” the small heartbreaks of being misunderstood, the silent rebuilding after every storm.

Still, we dream. We dream of a world that sees us for who we are, not what we’re expected to be. We dream of building careers that fulfill us and homes that comfort us without having to sacrifice one for the other. We dream of walking through life unapologetically, our worth not defined by roles or titles but by the quiet fire in our souls.

The truth is that womanhood today is both an evolution and a revolution. It’s the courage to speak when silence is safer. It’s choosing rest when the world demands productivity. It’s daring to love ourselves fully, even when the world profits from our insecurities.

Every woman carries her own story—a mosaic of efforts and small victories. We may stumble beneath the weight of expectation, but we rise, again and again, because we are not made of fragility. We are made of endurance, empathy, and a fierce, unrelenting hope. And in that daily fight—to make it, to matter, to dream—we are rewriting what it means to be a woman in this world.

Love,

Carmen

The Timeless Art of Letter Writing

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Dear Readers,

The other day, I contemplated on how the world we live in is filled with texts, emojis, and video calls, and the art of writing letters seems like a relic of the past. Yet, across centuries and cultures, letters have served as one of humanity’s most powerful ways to connect, inspire, and remember.

Long before the tap of a keyboard, messages traveled the world in ink and parchment. As far back as 500 BCE, Persians, Romans, and Egyptians sent messages written on papyrus scrolls. These weren’t casual updates but were part of trade records, politics, and personal affairs. During the medieval era, monks illuminated manuscripts with gold leaf and careful calligraphy, turning letters into works of art. Royal courts exchanged diplomatic missives that could start or stop wars. During the age of exploration, letters became lifelines across the oceans. Sailors wrote home from distant ports, their words carrying tales of adventure and longing to families who might not see them for years. During the Victorian era of the 19th century came the infamous love letters, a genre of writing that was intermingled with devotion and a whole lot of hope.

While today’s communication is faster, something is often lost in the rush. A letter slows us down and invites reflection. When you write by hand, every word is chosen with more care, every sentence shaped for the reader in mind.

Letters can be keepsakes because a text can be deleted in a swipe, but a letter can be folded, tucked into a drawer, and rediscovered years later. They are time capsules because they capture not only words but also the emotion and handwriting of a moment in time. In an age where attention is scattered, a letter says, “You mattered enough for me to stop, sit, and write to you.”

Writing a letter can be transformative. For the recipient, receiving a letter in the mail is like opening a gift; it’s tactile, personal, and full of human warmth. So, pick your favorite tools, be it a simple notebook, a fountain pen, or a piece of cute stationery. Write to share memories, ask questions, and let your personality shine. Don’t worry about perfection. The real beauty is in the authenticity, not in flawless grammar. Send it, even if it feels small. A short note can have a bigger impact than you think.

Letters are bridges between hearts, woven in ink. In an era where most messages vanish in seconds, a handwritten letter can become a lasting treasure. The art of letter writing isn’t lost—it’s simply waiting for us to pick up a pen and let it live again.

The Quiet Power of an Old Soul

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For those who feel too deeply in a world that moves too fast

Have you ever met someone who seems like they’ve been here before?

They speak with certainty, not because they know everything, but because they know what matters. They move through the world with an ancient stillness, as though their soul carries the dust of many lifetimes and the echo of centuries-old songs.

These are the old souls.

They are the listeners in a room full of noise. The ones who feel at home in silence. The ones who pause to watch a leaf fall. They feel the shift of seasons in their bones and mourn what others haven’t noticed was lost.

Old souls are often misunderstood. They may be called overly sensitive, distant, or “too intense.” They are tuned in to something deeper, quieter, and enduring.

Old souls find beauty in the ordinary: a cup of tea, the smell of old books, or the flicker of candlelight on a quiet evening. They crave meaning, not momentum.Fast success, small talk, and superficial connections don’t feed them. They long for depth. Feel connected to time in unusual ways.Old buildings move them. History feels familiar. They are drawn to things “with a story.” They often feel older than their years. Even as children, they felt like the world was too loud and hurried. They weren’t lost but were waiting for the world to catch up. They are deeply empathetic. They feel what others feel, often without words. They mourn quietly and love endlessly.

Being old souls in a modern world can be lonely. The rush, noise, and distraction make them feel like they are walking against the wind. But within them is a strength that doesn’t waver.

Old souls are not here to outpace the world. They anchor it and remind others to slow down, see, feel, and remember what matters.

You don’t have to do anything extraordinary to fulfill your purpose. Your presence is the offering. Your calm is the cure. Your wisdom is a well; others may not even know they’re thirsty for it until they meet an old soul.

So, to the old soul reading this: You are not behind. You are not too slow. You are not out of place.

You are precisely what this world needs. Stay rooted. Stay gentle.

The world needs your kind of light.

Love,

Carmen

Happy Mother’s Day

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Dear Friends,

As the sun rose on this seemingly perfect day, I couldn’t help but think of Ion Creanga’s words about his mother. His description of his mother in “Childhood Memories” was so beautifully crafted and it stirred up conflicted emotions within me. Memories of my own childhood and relationship with my mother came rushing back, both happy and painful.

“Asa era ea mama in vremea copilariei mele, plina de minunatii, pe cat mi-aduc si eu aminte. Si-mi aduc bine aminte, caci bratele ei m-au leganat cand ii sugeam tata cea dulce si ma alintam la sanu-i, gangurind si uitandu-ma in ochi-i cu drag! Si sange din sangele ei si carne din carnea ei am imprumutat, si a vorbi de la dansa am invatat. Iar intelepciunea de la Dumnezeu, cand vine vremea de a pricepe omul ce-i bine si ce-i rau.”

That’s how my mother was during my childhood—full of wonders— as far as I can remember. And I remember it well because her arms rocked me as I fed and cuddled at her sweet breast, babbling and looking into her eyes fondly! And blood from her blood and flesh from her flesh I borrowed and speaking also from her I learned. And wisdom from God I received when the time came to understand right and wrong.

Ion Creanga, Amintiri din copilarie (Childhood Memories)

There comes a time when we must stop criticizing our mothers. It seems that we never stop blaming the mothers.  What I want to say today is: Can we take a break—just for one day —and show them some compassion? Because being a perfect mother is an unattainable goal. Our expectations of mothers are unrealistic. We expect our mothers to embody Mother Mary, Mother Theresa, Superwoman, and Gaia, all at once. It’s an unforgiving standard of perfection.

May God have mercy on your mother if she ever falls short. May He have mercy on her if she is exhausted and overwhelmed. May He guide her when she doesn’t understand her kids. May He grant her strength if she has desires and longings. May He be with her in moments of terror, despair, hopelessness, confusion, or rage. May He be there for her if life disappoints her. May He support her if she struggles with addiction or a mental illness. And may we forgive her if she ever breaks down or loses control because we often brand mothers as “bad” for any mistakes they make.

Today, instead of judging mothers, let’s take a moment to show them mercy. And if you are a mother yourself and constantly scold yourself for not measuring up …can you release that burden for just one day?  Just for today. Let us show kindness and compassion towards mothers.

Love,

Carmen




Sometimes, you have to choose yourself

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There was a time when you longed for people to love and accept you. You hoped they would see the truth and messages within you. But they turned a blind eye, their words and actions pushing you further away until you were left alone with your shattered hopes and broken heart. Yet still, you clung to the belief that things would change, making excuses for their behavior until one day you couldn’t take it anymore.

The pain inflicted upon you, the manipulative tactics used against you, and the harsh revelations you could no longer ignore consumed you completely. And at that moment, you decided to remove yourself from that group, friendship, or relationship and chose your well-being and self-love above all else.

It may not have been an easy choice, met with understanding or support from others. But deep down, you know it was the right one: cutting ties with a destructive path that could only lead to your downfall. As difficult as it may be, trust and believe in yourself as you bravely walk away from what once seemed like an unbreakable bond because sometimes choosing peace and self-preservation is the most courageous act of all.

Love,

Carmen