The reason why Theory of the Heart feels so different from my previous works is because Netra was created from a more distanced perspective, the observer. It was abstract, more about theories, layered meanings, and spiritual observation. Almost like watching the world from above. Everything was interconnected, but through symbols and metaphors.

Theory of the Heart shifts into something more raw, more direct. It’s not just about seeing anymore, it’s about feeling. It’s like moving from spiritual dissociation into full embodiment. Where Netra held the gaze, this one takes that gaze and asks: Now that you’ve seen, what will you do?

I realized along my journey that I was moving away from myself emotionally. I forgot how to truly live, how to be in my body. This chapter became about facing the mirrors of life with fewer filters. Becoming the feeling instead of just witnessing it. It was confronting. But necessary. Like finally breathing through the pain instead of escaping it. A real return.

To act is to live the truth you’ve seen. You can read thousands of books, watch endless videos, discuss everything with people who say the same things, but none of it matters until you act.

Action is the bridge between knowing and becoming. It’s not about perfection or clarity. It’s about choosing discipline for the sake of your alignment. It's deciding to meditate, to move your body, to release people who drain your energy. In a world wired for distraction and dopamine, action is rebellion. But also surrender.

It’s a form of self-love that goes beyond feeling, it’s devotion. To act is to face all mirrors with your heart open, not because you’re fearless, but because you’re ready. It’s the courage to transform knowing into becoming.

I think many of us seek emotional safety from the past, like a child still reaching for reassurance. In adult life, this turns into seeking safety through partners, tribes, communities. It’s natural. But sometimes the offering we give isn’t about love, it’s about need. And if that need is rooted in disconnection from the self, the gift becomes something else: a plea, a mirror, even a mask.

This ambiguity is always present in my work. I’ve felt a deep neediness for years. And I discovered that it came from abandoning myself daily. So when I gave from that place, the gift wasn’t clean, it was a cry for reconnection. And that’s okay. That’s human.

But the balance, the alchemy, comes through doing the work. You give, you act, and you reflect. Through that cycle, you discover the edges of your own needs. How much can you give without losing yourself? And when you lose yourself, was the offering real? Or was it a form of survival?

In my process, it's just like art. You create something totally out of balance, but the fact that you still chose to show up and make it, that’s what matters. Those moments are necessary. They’re not failures. They’re honest. And they become part of your evolution.

I’ve explored this a lot lately. I asked several people in my family to recall specific events, and each memory was completely different. That showed me how memory isn’t just what happened ,it’s a reflection of your emotional state at the time, and how it changed through your journey.

For me, memory isn’t in the past. It’s active. It’s here. And it evolves with your awareness. If you hold onto a memory, you are choosing to stay in relationship with it. And at some point, you have to ask: is this still true for me? Or has it transformed?

Bashar speaks of timelines and parallel versions of self, and that resonates. Each memory is like a branch you can return to, reframe, or release. The key is knowing that you have the power to do so. That’s liberation.

It’s difficult. Especially when you realize how exposed you become. When you live through the heart, you’re not just sharing love. You’re sharing truth. Even when it’s messy. Even when it makes people uncomfortable.

The heart doesn’t hide. It reveals. And when you show up with that kind of openness, you will be pushed away by some. But also, you will receive the most honest reflections. And that is sacred. The artist's job is not to please, but to reveal. To be a vessel for truth.

Living through the heart means accepting control and intellect as part of the world, but not letting them rule you. You allow them, without identifying with them. It’s a spiritual discipline: to stay open, even in a world that rewards armor.

It comes down to mastery and surrender. Like ancient practice. You study the form, repeat the movement, refine your craft, then you let it go. The work is not yours. You are the channel. If the excitement is there, it's already aligned. You don’t need to control the outcome.

For me, that looks like waking up every day and creating. Practicing. Releasing. Some days the work flows, other days it feels chaotic. But both are part of the path. Perfection is not the goal. Presence is.

Some of my most “flawed” pieces are the ones that carry the most truth. Because they weren’t created from a need to be good, they were created from a need to be real.

If I say it’s hard, I make it harder. So I won’t say that. I’ll say: it takes practice. It takes presence. And it takes real self-love.

Giving without needing to be seen is freedom. It’s love without strings. It’s expression without expectation. But it only works when the giving comes from fullness, not lack. When it’s not trying to fill a void, but simply share the overflow.

That’s why self-connection matters so much. Years of grief work, embodiment, and solitude taught me how to love without needing validation. Doesn’t mean I never fall into old patterns, I still get triggered. But I act from my center now. And that’s where the giving becomes pure.

In letting go, of people, of outcomes, of stories, you gain the freedom to create, to love, to live. And from that place, you’re unstoppable.

There is definitely an underlying narrative. These are not random expressions. They’re six stages of an emotional and spiritual transformation. Each work represents a layer of the human experience I’ve gone through, and still go through.

The Giver

It often starts here. Giving. Showing up. As a child, as a lover, as a seeker. The act of giving, even when it hurts. Not knowing what will return. Just the willingness to offer.

Distorted Memories

When giving isn’t met, or when we feel unseen, memories start to distort. Our emotions reshape the past. What was once clear becomes blurred by pain, assumptions, or fantasy.

Betrayal of the Sacred Spine

You begin to realize: I gave not from love, but from need. And in that act, I betrayed myself. My inner child. My spine. But even this betrayal is part of the balance. It breaks you open to find new alignment.

Selfseen

This is the turning point. You see yourself fully, all identities, all masks. And that brings grief. Because you realize how long you’ve been abandoning yourself.

Zoals de ziener zoekend tracht, en zo zijn pijn verzacht

We seek people who reflect our vision, hoping they’ll heal the pain. But true healing starts with full acceptance of what is. Not resisting, but witnessing.

The Perceptionist

This is the solution. You shift perspective. You realize you are all of it. Every version. Every memory. Every mirror. And from that place, you don’t need to hold so tightly anymore.

This project is a mirror. Netra was more about the mirror, but the eye itself could be a refuge, a place to rest in observation. But Theory of the HeART holds no such comfort. It reflects. It reveals. It asks you to face yourself.

I hope the viewer sees themselves in it. Not just the beauty, but the contradictions, the wounds, the acts of courage. I hope they feel called to go deeper. To live more honestly. To become their own refuge.

The next stage is integration. Living in balance with everything I've seen and felt. Not just acting, but sustaining that action with care. With structure. With body.

This means more physical practices. More grounding. Starting new relationships, creating from a place of embodiment. Less intellectual, more experiential.

I think the next chapter will be rooted in the earth. Less about the concept, more about the life. About living truthfully, every day, even when it’s quiet. Even when no one’s watching.