As most of you know by now I am from southern Spain. Here tradition is a word that is not thrown around like any other word. We are talking centuries of deep local (catholic for the most part) traditions mixed in with the superstitious nature of the Spanish southerner.

Holy week is celebrated on the week of the first full moon after the spring equinox from what we call ¨Palm Sunday until Resurrection Sunday¨. During this week the streets are full of music, passion and devotion from the locals. Images of known Biblical figures, mostly Jesus and Mary in key moments are accompanied by legions of quite intimidating penitents with candles,flags and emblems.This penitents accompany the images for hours from early in the day until the evening envelops the streets representing repentance and the mortification of their suffering to cleanse their sins, in imitation to the passion of Christ.

Disclaimer: I know most readers here will be scandalized by the aesthetics as they are quite similar to the KKK robes. But it has nothing to do with it whatsoever. These traditions were in Spain before The US was even declared independent from the UK.

Images are tied to brotherhoods, which also carry out throughout the year works of social charity and aid the people most in need and marginalized. I wanted to write this because I wasn't always the biggest fan of Holy Week, in many cases I tried to get away from it as I didn't feel connected to it and there is a big performative aspect to it. Especially in Malaga where the penitents carrying the main thrones with images go out with their faces uncovered, which in many cases will turn a brotherhood into a caste like system where people fight over the best position so as to be seen on the streets…Yes really!

Through the years and as I matured alongside my faith I was lucky enough to meet a priest who was leading the formative studies for a re-emerging brotherhood: "El Mutilado" or quite literally "The Mutilated"(due to the damaged leg resulting from the burn of the convents during the spanish civil war) now named the Christ of the clemency. In this brotherhood there is a different approach to other brotherhoods as to how the penitence is done and they also offer some really deep and insightful formation which I value a lot. It´s been 4 years already since I am a brother and after living abroad for so long I finally could go out and complete my act of penitence with the rest of the brotherhood and accompany Christ.

It is 15:30 on Passion Saturday. I make my way through the streets of Malaga on my way to the Church of the Sacred Heart. Meet some fellow brothers on the way there, I don't talk that much. Some of them are reminiscing about other years and commenting on the course the procession is taking this year, it tends to be a touchy subject. It's going to take us 6 hours to complete the full course. As we make our way into the church there it is standing on the throne, the crucified, on the side of the church the virgin of the divine providence is waiting for its year to take into the streets and watching the swiftness in which the brothers change into their robes.

I make my way into confession, a total of 3 priests are there attending everyone with their spiritual needs. I can't believe I mistook the gloves I took into church. They were supposed to be black and I took the white ones. Thank God the big brother (in this case sister) was there with emergency ones. As I set myself in the pew with all the fellow brothers the preparatory mass begins. The ritual takes place behind closed doors as the streets of Malaga are already full, waiting outside for the band to play the first notes and the march to begin.

We put our masks on, take our respective banner and as the doors open, the "guide cross" held by an acolyte takes the first step outside. Sobriety, passion and beauty start their dance and the streets go silent as the march keeps their pace. Here and there the throne is brought down to give room to the carriers to rest and the band to gasp for air.

Behind the mask I see people, friends and acquaintances. They can't recognize me unless I give them a sign. In this march we are all equal in the eyes of the beholder.

Tourists' faces melt. They take a corner and are suddenly faced with hundreds of years of tradition…Some of them see a religious parade, others fall into Christ's gaze, but both for a moment, fall silent and are met with the eternal.The music stops and they speak to each other in awe.They haven't seen anything like it. We keep our march and in every other street you see the same pattern repeat.

I retreat into my inside when we make it to the cathedral and the night falls. Pain is very much a constant at this point, here and there I take a look back and see the crucified. He made that sacrifice for me. "I can do this little effort in comparison too". I am carrying my grandpas ring, sometimes I pray an our father for him, I offer the pain, the silence, wait and the small inconveniences to all the souls in purgatory and keep a firm posture until we finally cross the church doors again after 6 hours.

We close the doors in complete darkness and chant, in that moment we all become one. Some words are spoken from the big sister and the lights come back on. I lift my mask and finally can breathe again, we hug each other and as people start making it home some of us stay and help get things back in order.

The crucified still there is moved to one of the sides in front of the virgin and we take a final picture before walking home in a silence and peace similar to the one you feel after reaching the top of a mountain. A peace that you only rarely feel in this life.

Holy week is an experience for the participant and the spectator, a tradition that if framed well can bring many fruits, but if not could lose all meaning and just be another parade. Devoid of meaning.

Lately I find myself consuming too much self improvement content on various platforms. I have always been interested in self-help and what not. What I noticed though is how much the algorithm picks up on your interests and throws you so many posts and videos about self improvement that in the end it's almost anxiety inducing.

I realized I want to be better, but not better at the expense of not enjoying the simple things or giving myself time to rest. Right now I kind of feel guilty if I spend an afternoon playing BO1 zombies with my friends or take time off. I want to go back to feeling at ease when resting like when I was young and didn't have any other responsibilities.

Adulthood and success is framed in a productivity basis instead of a happiness or meaning basis. I am relearning play, creativity and ease. I believe this path will get me somewhere I will be happy with in a couple years. I do realize I need to BUILD this future but, at a pace where I enjoy the building.

I fear I might fall behind my peers. I fear not being good enough. But my biggest fear is not having lived.

This post is extremely personal.

My whole life until I was about 18 has been pretty much an easy answer to the question; Why am I here?

I had clear in my mind and soul that I was going to be a pro triathlete, dedicate my whole life to it and bet big on it. My whole identity since childhood was built around this. I remember bringing to school trophies I would win and get recognition for being the athlete in class. Long story short I ended up deciding I would move to the US and take advantage of a scholarship offer there. Just as I had everything set COVID hit. COVID hit but had no mercy on my immune system. I developed a rare autoimmune condition called ITP which basically destroys your blood platelets. This meant spending my 18th year summer in the hospital and having to renounce from one day to the other my future plans and what was my passion.

I was beyond devastated. I think I have never felt so hopeless in my life. Having to deal with a condition so random and cruel when I had only taken care of my body meticulously and had so many plans and purpose for my future was brutal on my psyche. I had to deal with taking experimental drugs, tests and finally doctors landed on a subcutaneous shot that basically sends my platelet production into overdrive. Facing mortality at such a young age and in such a slow paced manner gave me time to reflect on what I had done so far, accept that life might just not be the same anymore and adapt to my new conditions. I think there is where my old self died.

In a macabre and ironic way, as sometimes life is, one of the very first days I got out of the hospital I watched a friend die in a very dramatic way, his family was also there to witness it. Experiencing this took me down to a place of humility. His death reminded me that even though I had a major setback, I still was alive. That day I promised myself I would take every chance I got to experience life. Because as cliche as it sounds, one day it's over. And all those things you go through in a 3 month hospitalisation come back at you like a punch in the gut in the form of regrets, things unsaid, chances missed and loss of potential.

So I put my best energy into life from then. I have been blessed enough to encounter and re-encounter friends, say the things from the heart I kept before, grow as a person. Experience nature as I could have never dreamed of with some of the best people I have met so far, make mistakes and not regret making them. God, how beautiful life is with its trials.

Now at 23 I am still healing from wounds, trying to get to know myself better. I know eventually I will find my place in the world and that my story is still to be written. But some days it's hard to wake up or look in the mirror while lost. What is it now that I came to do here? God if you're out there you know well I have fired more bullets than I can count, and I feel like soon comfort and responsibilities might squander my time to leave something meaningful behind.

Thanks for reading this. I hope you have a great day and life is kind to you as well. Because all of these experiences are lessons and we are still here.

As I keep building features the site feels more complete, these days are very busy and keeping up with the site is proving to be challenging but I know I can handle it and also enjoy reading all the flowers planted here. I am now trying to think of a way to add more meaning to this corner of the internet, I have some ideas just have to figure out how to put them into reality.

I am really looking forward to this weekend to hopefully go on a hike near where I live, there is so much greenery now and I know soon here in southern Spain it will be gone until next "Winter".

Happy you are here reading, have a great week!

Writing this from a hotel. I have to travel a lot for work and it has made the amount of flowers coming in a bit overwhelming especially since I had to tweak some backend for it yesterday late at night.

Overall I feel like lots of people are liking this idea and leaving very meaningful thoughts behind. Most are genuinely moving and to have the privilege to host them here forever is such a responsibility that I can only say thank you for supporting it and giving your feedback. All of this has given me some hope that I can bring something valuable in a creative way to the world and I have something to show for in my life aside from academic or other personal achievements, which in most cases only added value to my own life.

Lately I have been thinking a lot on how we spend all of our lives working. Most of the work we do has no further transcendence or your "signature" and lets not talk about people appreciating the work you do. How everything falls behind a corporate entity and you are just a number as soon as you hit the grave.

What really has been in my mind after building Grassfields is what my future children and grandkids will think of me once I am not here. Where can they go to find out who their grandpa was, what he thought, did and stood behind.

I wish I could do the same for my grandpa, to know him better. I remember spending hours asking him for stories from his childhood and for me there was not a topic more interesting than this. My grandpa grew up poor after the war and managed to build a small local business that is still being run by my uncle. All the hardships he faced are now inspiration for so many people in my family. In my case I was lucky enough to be born comfortable but still get lessons of discipline and resilience from him.

Anyways this post is getting a bit long and I will have the time to share some more context about me and my story. So far I am happy you are here, and wish you a great day.