Devil is an Angel, too

Mounted on Cherry Wood · 25 cm · Porcelain · Crystal Glaze · 24ct Gold

I used to say that the devil is just really, really sad. And that the world misunderstood the concept of a fallen angel.

In that context I believe that how we feel and be on this world is always and forever a decision. Like two different waves that exist next to each other, and we are the ones who decide which one we ride on. We choose if something makes us go dark and become a victim of a situation, or if something can teach us something. All that what is going on in the world right now might just make us ask ourselves how we will react. So for me it will be the decision to feel more. Always feel more. And boldly love this planet anyway. Because all that also teaches us that we are still union and the pain is universal and none of us have lost the ability of the heart.

The truth that frightens most... more than darkness itself... is probably that what we call darkness lives where we live. That it breathes with our breath. That it knows our name because it was born the same moment we were. The devil is not a stranger. The devil is the angel who learned to look the other way.

We carry both. Always have. The impulse to create and the impulse to destroy. The tenderness and the cruelty. The voice that says rise and the voice that says stay down, this is where you belong. They share the same throat. They share the same gold.

And this is where freedom begins, in the conscious choosing.

Every moment offers itself as a wave. You can ride the one that pulls you under or the one that carries you forward. Neither is more real than the other. Both are yours. But only one is chosen. And the choosing is everything.

There are those who stare into their shadows until the shadow becomes their entire sky. And there are those who refuse to look at all, who paint everything gold and call it healing. Both are asleep. The one who is awake sees the shadow clearly, knows its weight, knows its voice.... and chooses anyway

Are you willing to set down what is broken? Not to pretend it never was, but to stop building your house there? The misery is real. The wound is real. Identity is not what was done to you. Identity is what you do next.

The horn does not hide. It rises, golden, from the same body that could have grown wings. It says: I know what I carry. I know what I am capable of. And I choose — again and again, breath by breath, wave by wave... the direction of my own becoming.

To live with this piece is to live with the most honest mirror you will ever own. Asking yourself every day — which wave today? Which voice? Which version of yourself will you ride into the next hour?

The devil is an angel too. The question was never which one you are. The question is which one you choose to be.