The time is 10:24 PM. January 8th, 2024.

My eyes are starting to close. The scent of sage tea fills the room, and the fireplace burns as if I had a fiery blaze roaring in my living space.

I’m listening to Reminiscence by Florian Christl on repeat, and I decided to take a break from preparing my speech.
What speech?
This Sunday, January 14th, Robin Sharma the world-renowned author is speaking for the first time in Greece. (It still feels like a dream to me.)
That same day, I’ll be giving the opening speech the one right before R. Sharma takes the stage.
The man who, without even knowing it (!), led me to found theSPEAKERS.

Right now, I’m in Kalavryta. Isolated, and in complete silence. Or at least I’m trying it’s not easy to rely on hand gestures when you’re trying to order breakfast in the morning.

Earlier today, a friend asked me,
“You went there all alone? I don’t like going anywhere alone unless it’s for work.”

Guess what?
I don’t like being alone either.
It’s not easy.
So I did everything I could to make sure I wouldn’t feel lonely.
I picked a room with a view high above the town, where the city lights glow with life and movement.
I brought along some of my favorite books twenty-five in total (they didn’t know that my suitcase was filled with pages instead of clothes)!
I packed sage, mountain tea, lemon balm. I made the space cozy. Lit the fireplace. Played music. Adjusted the lighting.
The rain tapping on the windows soothes me to sleep.
Everything is perfect. The preparation for my speech is going great.
And yet… something’s missing.
Everything is in place.
But the most important thing is absent.
The one thing that can’t be replaced.

What is it?
The flame of companionship.

My people.
The ones I love. The ones who support me not out of obligation but out of true connection.

“But if you miss them,” my friend said, “why did you leave Athens?”

Not because I enjoy being away. But because I chose to.
This time, I needed to step back. To switch off my phone. To be alone with my books, my thoughts, and my sage tea.

A friend a recent one texted me a few days ago:
“We should listen more to the birds singing in the morning and the laughter of children in the streets. Let’s love what’s worth loving and forget what needs forgetting.”

That’s why I came here.
Not to miss my people but to reconnect with what I truly am and want to feel.
The air. The rain. The gentleness. The freedom. The scent of fir trees.
The sound of the earth. The coolness of breath.
The lightheartedness. The unfiltered life. The spontaneity of the everyday.

All of that helps me see my truth again.
In Athens, I lose it sometimes.
I forget. I get swept away.
Morning. Night. Then morning again. The same cycle.
I don’t want that.

I want it to go like this:
Morning. Full stop.
Midday. Full stop.
Afternoon. Full stop.
Evening. Full stop.
And not “back to the beginning.”
I don’t want every day to be a repeat of the last.
If you’ve seen Groundhog Day, you know what I mean.

Freddie Mercury who, 33 years after his death, still ranks among the top three lead singers of all time wanted to do things differently.
To do things his way.
That’s how he wrote Bohemian Rhapsody, when everyone thought it would flop.
That’s how he changed his name. That’s how he lived freely and rebelliously.
It cost him his life.
But at least he lived the way he wanted to.

Every time I look at his portrait on my desk, it reminds me of exactly that:
To go the other way.
To do the things I’m afraid to do.
To pursue the ideas that might get me laughed at.

Because otherwise, what’s the point?

Let them laugh. Better that than have your idea ignored.

What will I say in my speech on Sunday?
Honestly, the words don’t matter as much.

What truly matters is what I’ll feel and what you’ll feel when I say them.

Words. Actions. Arguments. Perspectives. Stimuli. Directions. Opinions.
They all lead to the same destination.
They all aim at the same thing:

Emotion.

So… what will I say this Sunday?

I’ll say what Martin Luther King Jr. said, decades ago:

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

Let’s hope that day never comes.

Apostolos Koumarinos