My dear friend, may God take away the depression that has been drawing near to your soul these days, leaving you feeling strange and deeply low. Those are your words; you told me yourself. I understand because I read your message and saw your heart as you described it and opened it to me. And now, here in these holy places, I thought I must not pass you by. I pray... I pray that joy will come. Do what you can, too. Pray: wish something good for yourself. That is what your prayer means. Prayer is a movement out of the mire. It lets us see our soul in the light of Christ and refuse to settle for the darkness that sometimes overwhelms us. It is the soul stirring and saying, “No. I see myself as a child of God, a child of the Father, the great Father who cares for everything, the God of abundance who holds the keys to joy and happiness. I will not settle for melancholy and depression.” If you look for the cause of that depression, and it is not physical or hereditary, and not plainly a neurological condition that may need medication, then it may come from a wound, a betrayal, or something unfulfilled in your soul. There is something you want and cannot have, something you long for and feel would make you well if you had it. “I am depressed,” someone says, “because the person I love left me, abandoned me, insulted me, betrayed me, and went away. That is why I have fallen into such deep depression.” You feel something is missing, and that if you had it, you would not feel this way. But there is a step you can take within your own soul. Try saying, “What if I could have what I long for? I do not mean the thing itself, but the feelings it gave me.” Say someone left you, hurt you, betrayed you, abandoned you, and now you have sunk into deeper depression. Let me ask: when that person was with you, what did you feel? Did you feel fulfilled, your soul full and your heart happy, eager for life, ready to struggle and rejoice? Everything had meaning for you. You looked around and took joy in everything. That person brought beautiful feelings and experiences to life within you. Now they have gone, and those beautiful things seem to have fallen away with them. So I wonder, and I offer this only as a thought: could you bring those feelings of fullness, beauty, goodness, tenderness, and happiness to life within yourself again, even in that person’s absence? Perhaps that person was the occasion that awakened joy in you, but the joy itself is within you. The person has gone, and with them the occasion that stirred your happiness. Could something else awaken it? The capacity for happiness is still within you. It was not that person’s physical body, weighing seventy, eighty, or ninety kilos, that made you happy. It was not a body of molecules and cells. What was it, then? Happiness arose within you through your encounter with that person, through that circumstance. Prayer helps you feel directly, without depending on the help of human circumstances, that fullness, joy, happiness, and meaning in life, and love. It helps you come alive and feel your soul watered from a source beyond this world. Think of the ascetics you hear about and read about in the writings of the Fathers and the elders. You say, “That man radiated happiness.” The brothers would visit him and always find joy on his face. His face was always cheerful. A young man once told me, “Father, I was so happy when I saw New York. I went to Manhattan. It was incredible, magnificent, impressive!” His journey to New York brought out joy in him. Someone else goes to Disneyland, another to Florida, another somewhere else. These are occasions for joy. Strong feelings rise from the soul through buildings, people, good food, lights, dancing, clothes, shopping, all these things. I am not condemning them. I want to tell you something else: the ascetic can know the joy that another person found in Manhattan, in shopping, walking around, staying out late, and dancing, even without those things. And I would say the ascetic’s joy is deeper, because it lasts. As soon as you reach the airport and board the plane home, a sadness may come over you: “Oh, it’s over.” But the ascetic has found a little something within his soul that he can turn to, and joy rises again. Happiness rises again. “Ah, there it is: joy again. I do not need to see skyscrapers or climb a tower or travel there. I am happy because I know another secret.” The secret is to find where that joy lives within you. Its source is in the heart. Christ is the source of joy. Learn to let Christ come alive in you. You are the one who stifles His life in your soul and keeps Him from showing you all the beautiful things He has to give. Until you discover this secret, you will keep suffering and waiting for a trip, an outing, or a relationship. While it lasts, you may feel... good. But when it begins to slip away, you will be beside yourself. You may not even feel at ease while you have it, because you will wonder, “Will it last forever?” You have someone you love and take joy in them, but you are also afraid of losing them. You think, “Things are good now, but for how long? What if they leave me tomorrow, betray me, die, fall ill, or move away?” Then you cannot even enjoy the time you have. You see others enjoying themselves and feel jealous: “Look, they have what I don’t. Why?” You grow angry, compare yourself with others, feel jealous and insecure, and wonder whether your joy will still be there in a little while. Often the joy we feel depends on something else; it clings to something and draws its life from it, like a plant taking in water. So I wonder whether you can discover a secret. You told me, “When that person looked into my eyes, I came back to life.” So there was a kind of resurrection within you. Could you experience that coming back to life without that person looking into your eyes? Look into your own eyes in the mirror and say, “My God, thank You for my worth, for the beauty of my soul, for the beauty of my existence, for my unique place in this world.” There is no one exactly like you. You are a unique creature, a unique person. So am I. So is the person beside us. The person passing by you now, the one who lives in the apartment above you, the one you pass on the road as you drive: each of us is entirely unique. If you take even that to heart, you can say, “I do not need someone to keep telling me I am beautiful or good or important before I can feel my worth and come alive. And if I lose them, I need not fall apart.” Think of the people you love and the joy you felt when one of them was near you: “I’m glad you’re here. I enjoy your company. I receive good things from you.” But I also tell myself, “Even without this person, or this thing, or that thing, I will not collapse. I will endure. I have found within myself how to renew my hope, remember my worth and God’s love, and pray. I feel at peace with myself.” Yes, that person no longer loves me. They have gone away or betrayed me. But God loves me, and I can be at peace with myself. I can dream, pray, and imagine a beautiful, strong, joyful future. All is not lost. I will manage. I will still be able to do things in life without the circumstances I once thought I needed. It is hard because I had become so attached. Breaking that attachment hurts; it feels as though I am bleeding. One person may have clung to another, or I may have clung to a situation. Think of being dismissed from a job. You may depend on it financially, but also for your sense of worth. You ask, “What am I worth now that I no longer have that job?” Why would you be worth any less? Was that job what gave you worth? You have always had worth. But you identified yourself with it so completely, and held on so tightly, that you said, “You and I are one.” “My job is everything to me. I am my job.” But you are more than your job. God gives you a chance to see that. It is as if He says, “Let Me take your job away for a while, so you can see the other gifts you have. You thought that job was what sustained you.” I am telling you that you are underestimating yourself. God says, “My child, you are worth much more.” That is why I mentioned the ascetics, who have nothing. If you take something one of them owns, he can say, “Take it.” His joy does not depend on that thing. “I have a nice little thing in my room, perhaps a pen I use for writing. I write with it, but you may take it. If you steal it, what of it?” There was an ascetic who ran after some thieves, not to catch them, but to give them something they had forgotten. “Take this too, friends,” he said. “You forgot it.” They were astonished. “We’ve never seen anything like this. Other people call the police, and this man runs after us to give us more.” That ascetic could be happy without what they had taken. I know this is very difficult. That is why I am not telling you to overcome your depression and melancholy today, or even tomorrow. It takes time. It may take months or even years. But during the life we have, it is worth coming to understand a few things, with all the pain that understanding may bring. It hurts to learn the lessons Christ teaches us through life’s blows and through these painful detachments. It is like putting an adhesive bandage on your arm and then pulling it off. “Oh,” you say, “I can’t pull it off!” Your skin and the hairs beneath it hurt as it comes away. But it has to happen. That is how you may come to say, “This is what life has taught me: there is a great source of joy within me. The grace of Christ is within me, His strength and His presence. When I receive Holy Communion, I receive Christ within me. When I pray, I reach out to Him. When I call on His name, I speak to Him. When I ask for His grace, He shelters me and sends angels.” For now, these may sound like mere words. But the time will come when I live them, if I am willing to respond to what life asks of me. I might refuse. God may keep sending me lessons, while I say, “I don’t want to learn this. I want to cry. I want to despair. I want to kill myself,” as someone may say. Yet even through the pain of God loosening something you have clung to in your heart, you may discover the riches hidden within you. The purpose is not to destroy you or make you suffer. It does hurt, but causing pain is not the purpose. The purpose is for you to go forward. He says, “Keep going. Do not remain here. See what can come of this.” What good does it do to keep commenting, judging, condemning, and looking back? What do we do from here? “But you know, it wasn’t my fault. What kind of person could do that? I can’t take it in. I can’t believe what they did to me.” All right, then live in the past, live among your memories, keep looking backward as your soul grows old, and leave undone the steps you need to take to move forward. As if all the lights were on and this were a performance. When love dies, the Resurrection knows nothing of it. Fireworks. Your eyes shine like the Bosphorus, like ships at night passing through the Bosphorus. I say it again: pray. Picture yourself in the grace of God. See yourself—that is what I mean by having a vision. See yourself dressed, not in black, but in white, holding an armful of flowers. Picture yourself close to Christ, receiving His regard, His hand in yours. What does that mean? It means Christ touches you. He lays His hand on you and takes this trouble from you. You change. You become a different person and rise to a new level in your relationship with God, with yourself, and with others. Through your pain you become a beautiful person, yes, but you have to come through it. Do you understand? So pray, and read a book now and then. Watch your logismoi, those intrusive thoughts. Do not let yourself sink into them all the time; that is where it all begins. Change those thoughts. That is why the Saints tell us to pray and keep saying the name of Christ: the Jesus Prayer, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.’ Sometimes certain Saints would change the words and no longer say, ‘Have mercy on me.’ Once you feel that He has shown you mercy, it can seem contradictory to keep saying it. It is like asking you, ‘Give me something to eat,’ and then, after you give it to me, going on saying, ‘Give me something to eat, give me something to eat.’ You would say, ‘Haven’t I given it to you?’ Then the prayer changes, and you say, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, thank You for Your mercy. Lord Jesus Christ, You are showing me mercy.’ ‘I received mercy,’ says the Apostle Paul. ‘But I received mercy.’ I was the person I was, he says, but God showed me mercy. And now he feels... After a while, he feels that mercy has been given to him: he has received what he asked for. Try to feel that Christ is giving you what you ask. You are always complaining, demanding, begging: ‘Come on, give it to me, give it to me.’ All right, when will you receive it? Christ does give it to you, but you have grown used to refusing it. You have grown used to misery, resistance, and this air of depression. You cannot believe that you might rejoice and say so. Think of the words, ‘My Jesus, my light.’ You are no longer asking; you are living it. You are saying, ‘Christ is my light.’ When you say, ‘My Christ, my light,’ you are acknowledging that right now you are in the light of Christ, in His love. ‘My Jesus, my very breath.’ Say it in that hopeful way. I am not asking for something; I am experiencing what I already have but have failed to recognize. I am trying to bring my soul to life. I am bringing into the present what I think is very, very far away and absent. It is not far away. Christ is here, right before you. Your sorrow and exhaustion hold you back. Your heartache wears down your soul, and you cannot recognize Christ beside you. ‘Nobody called me yesterday,’ someone says, ‘and I sank into depression.’ Because nobody called you? Suppose everyone in the world called you. Would that give you great worth? At some point the calls would stop. At eleven at night, or one or two in the morning, they would end. What then? Would you feel worthless and empty again, like an outcast, because nobody was calling? You want to keep hearing... The words ‘You matter’ and ‘I love you.’ Yes, but seek to hear them from God. He says them all the time. People cannot say them all the time. One night, when I had jet lag after coming back from America, as I once told you, my eyes suddenly opened at two in the morning and I lay awake all night. I turned on the radio. There was a warm, very human program where listeners called in to talk about what they felt, what they were thinking, or some difficulty they had. It was not a Church station. Around half past three, someone called and said, ‘I’ve been trying all night to get through and speak to you.’ ‘Yes,’ the host said, ‘what would you like? Tell us something.’ ‘No...’ ‘I don’t want anything. I just wanted to feel that I was speaking with you, that I was connecting with someone.’ And I thought, look what a person will do. He is thirsty—thirsty to feel valued and recognized, for a little love and warmth, even over the radio. He thought, ‘I’ll sit here and wait.’ He kept calling all night, and at half past three he finally got through and they spoke for a little while. This need is so great: a thirst, a hunger for happiness and love. That is why you feel depressed: this hunger has not been satisfied. You try to satisfy it with cheese puffs, chips, and chocolates. They fill you for a little while, but then you want more, and then more again. In the end you gain weight, feel sad and confused, and are still hungry. So you eat again, gain more weight, and regret it, because you are eating the wrong food. You are seeking the joy your soul longs for in the wrong place. That is why I believe prayer will help you greatly, provided you pray with eagerness, hope, and joy. Prayer is not depression. Prayer means thinking about how Christ thinks of you. Then all the springs inside you change automatically—the springs of your mind. It is like opening up a television set and seeing what is inside: little screws, parts, wires, and so on. Through prayer, that whole arrangement changes—the structure of your thinking. In prayer, you make this mistake, and so do I. You do not try to see how Christ feels about you or what He wants for you. Instead, you try to make Christ think about you the way you think about yourself, with an unhealthy view of who you are. You say, ‘Christ, look how miserable I am. Come and agree that I am miserable. Come and weep with me in my misery.’ ‘You tell me I’m miserable too.’ You want the One who brings healing and light to enter your darkness and become dark and melancholy with you? It has to go the other way. That is the movement of prayer: to see yourself in the light in which Christ sees you, so that your depression and melancholy can lift. If you ask Christ, ‘Lord, how do You see me?’ He will not say, ‘I see someone disappointed, a failure, good for nothing, an outcast, without hope, whose life is over.’ No. He will say, ‘I see a wide plain of opportunities ahead. I see gifts coming into your life in the years to come—so many gifts. My child, I see light, grace, help, people, and possibilities for you. Yes, today you feel melancholy, but I, Christ, see what lies ahead.’ ‘I do not see only today; I also see what is coming, what follows, and tomorrow. Do you want to enter into My eyes and My mind and do what I do—to see your soul as I do, in the vastness of what lies ahead, in the boundless?’ And you say, ‘No, I want to look at it so narrowly and...’ ‘I want to see it only as it is today, and dwell a little on yesterday’s sorrows too.’ But Christ says to you, ‘Look ahead. Things are coming.’ That is prayer, and it is difficult. That is why we do not see miracles in prayer: what we are doing is not really prayer. Instead of turning toward God, we turn backward. Instead of offering a prayer, we weep. A prayer is a heartfelt wish. When you ask someone for a blessing, you feel strength rising within you as they offer it: ‘Receive this blessing. May this miracle happen; may this gift be given.’ That is what a heartfelt prayer means. But you are not praying; you are sinking. You are getting stuck in the mud, going down to your neck, and saying, ‘I’ll go deeper still.’ That is neither a heartfelt prayer nor prayer at all. You are not looking ahead toward God or reaching out to Him with strength. You would rather keep tending the mournful flowers of your life, flowers that have withered and passed away, saying, ‘That is where I want to stay.’ And He tells you, ‘New flowers are coming.’ I pray that God will illumine you so that you can see it. I can picture a smile on your face now, because you have begun to understand what we have been saying. You have begun to see the mistake you have made for so long. My first prayer to God is that He help you recognize it. You have looked for the meaning of joy and happiness in the wrong place. You have unfairly undervalued yourself, and the way you have tried to solve this problem has made it worse. Once you understand these things, you are on a good path. You are ready to take the next step with courage and say, ‘I had the wrong idea about my life, and now I am changing. Yes, I am changing from this day forward. With Christ’s help I can do it. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can do all things. I have strength. I am strong—through Christ who strengthens me.’ It is through the help of Christ, who is within me and strengthens me, that I have this strength. The priest comes out... In the Church, as we sing the Trisagion Hymn, ‘Holy God,’ he says, ‘With strength,’ and the chanters answer, ‘Yes, with strength,’ and begin to sing the third and final ‘Holy God’ with strength. That strength can fill your soul, if your soul is open to receive it. O Lord of hosts, be with us... Thank you so much. You strengthen me too, and your beautiful music lifts my sorrow, like David comforting Saul when he was melancholy. Do you remember that story? No, I’m not asking Vasilis—Vasilis remembers it. I’m asking you. The Old Testament says that when Saul was melancholy, David played his harp and comforted him. Music helps, and Vasilis Chatzinikolaou helps us with his beautiful music. He lifts the depression from our hearts and brings us a sweet, wistful sadness—one that inspires us, rather than leaving us miserable and hopeless. He handles the sound for this program, and I thank him very much. Thank you, too, for the congratulations you sent him about his music and the CDs you bought, the... “The Blues of My Soul” and “Blues Echoplagio,” along with his other CDs, are indeed beautiful and worthwhile. The program’s email address is atheata.perasmata. Well, Vasilis, we’ve smiled again, and that dazed feeling has left our souls. I feel that many of our listeners—and you, listening right now—are already a little better and looking at your life with a little more hope, and... I repeat: if your depression is not a purely physical, neurological, or hereditary condition—if it is, you are a hero or heroine, admirable for struggling with it with patient endurance—if it has to do with... But even then, you can draw on what we’ve been talking about today: prayer, hope, God’s love, and the words, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” And that, for those who love God, all things work together for good. Just as you have said to yourself thousands of times... Sad things, until they became part of your experience and stuck to you because you heard them so often. Who did you hear them from? Yourself, your mother, your father, the people around you. “You’ll make a fool of yourself. You’re useless. You’ll never amount to anything. Who would even look at you? We don’t care about you. Go away, you idiot.” That’s what they said to a child at school. Over and over. I heard it and thought: the way they treat this little child, hearing that every day at school—how often does he hear it there? And he hasn’t told anyone at home. Then, after a while, I learned that his parents spoke to him like that too. So his classmates kept calling him an idiot, for one reason or another—because of football, basketball, his schoolwork, or something else. His parents said it too. And then he began saying it to himself. “I’m the sort of person who will never make it. I’m no good. I’m useless. Everyone insults me.” It’s hard to escape that darkness. You have to let Christ bring in the light. I was also saying that reading helps a great deal. And listen carefully, because what I’m about to say might surprise you: I don’t mean only spiritual books in the narrow sense. I mean literature too. When you read literature, you see life in all its variety and richness. Life is so rich. There is a wealth of feelings, experiences, and situations, and you realize that you are one person among many. This helps me enormously. I read all sorts of novels. You can even go to a bookshop on your own and browse. Books portray life. You see how other people have lived through trials, problems, illness, wars, divorce, loneliness—anything at all. And you think, “Look, I’m not alone. There are others.” Then you feel a bond with the rest of humanity, and you begin to let go and say... “I’m like everyone else. Why should I be the one person who never has to go through anything? Who am I?” And you relax, and that helps. Of course, someone else might say, “When I’m having melancholy thoughts and struggling with depression, I don’t want to read anything. It makes me feel worse.” All right. I don’t know. It depends on how you take it at that moment, what mood you’re in when you pick up the book, and how you enter its story. And of course I didn’t mean a book that would make you... Even more melancholy because it praises melancholy and depression. I mean a book that speaks of life and gives you the will to live. There are books with beautiful stories about people who overcome hardship, who stand back up after earthquakes and disasters. Those are the books I mean. Spiritual books, yes—but you already know those because you’re part of the Church. You can gain something from other books too. That’s my view. And find ways that work for you to talk with someone and spend time together. Get a little sleep; that helps a great deal. Let your nervous system settle. When you’re thinking too much, go out for a walk. Walking helps. Walk around your neighborhood. Go outside and take a stroll. Take the side streets and keep going. One woman said to me, “They’ll think I’m crazy.” It doesn’t matter. You don’t say you’re crazy. With all those thoughts going through your head, let them think what they like. Don’t worry so much about what people will say. Go outside. Walking can help your soul heal. A spiritual father once gave this advice to a young man I knew. I asked him, “What does your spiritual father tell you to do about this temptation you’re going through?” He answered, “Walk.” His struggle had nothing to do with his weight. He wasn’t told to walk to burn calories. He was told to walk to clear his head of gloomy thoughts. That really struck me. He told me this back in 1990. That was the advice a spiritual father gave a young man, and walking really struck me as good advice. Especially if your neighborhood has... I mean, if you live in Patissia or Kypseli, where can you go for a walk? You might even get robbed. But if your neighborhood has a few trees, gardens, or a park nearby, walk a little. Think of something pleasant. Get outside. And let me say something more practical: have a little sweet treat. No, sweets can be part of it too. Just a little, though, or you may feel guilty afterward and feel worse. Or have a good meal. Of course, sometimes depression leaves you unable to eat. You don’t want anything; you lose your appetite. Others have the opposite experience: their appetite grows, and they can’t stop. Out come the potato chips, then the box of Ferrero chocolates, and they eat every one without knowing when to stop. No, I don’t mean going to extremes. I mean being able to say, “This afternoon I’ll have something nice to eat.” These are small comforts for the soul. I know they don’t sound very spiritual; forgive me for that. But sometimes even a little chocolate helps. I saw something like this on the Holy Mountain. Someone was troubled, and an elder brought out some fresh watermelon and cut him a piece. The visitor was telling him about his troubles, and the elder said, “Wait here. I’ll bring you some watermelon. You’ll see how good it is.” The man said, “Father, I’m telling you about my troubles.” What did he want? He wanted the elder he had come to see to become melancholy with him. But the elder said, “Let’s change the scene for a moment.” “I’ll give him something bright and lovely,” the elder thought. So he gave him a piece of deep red watermelon, bringing a little color and happiness into his world. He said, “Here, my child, have some fruit, some watermelon. Set your troubles aside for a moment. There are beautiful things in life too. Isn’t this watermelon lovely? Isn’t it from God? Eat it and enjoy its sweetness.” That sweetness can help you feel different. So the man ate his watermelon, picked out the seeds, spat them out, and for a while his mind was elsewhere. Then the elder said, “Have you eaten your watermelon? Good. That’s what I was trying to tell you. Now we can talk about your troubles too. Don’t worry.” Nothing terrible is going to happen. You’ll live, and you’ll get through it, like everyone else. What makes you so different? “My problem is the biggest in the world.” That’s how I always feel. When something happens to me, I think the whole universe is falling apart. Then I look around, and everyone else is happy. I wonder how they can be happy when I have such a huge problem. My dear friend, it’s simply because you are not the whole world. Life goes on without you, without me, without any one of us. Step outside yourself a little. Look at things more kindly, more calmly, and, in the end, more humbly. Wherever we go, we come back to humility: humility, love, prayer, kindness, simplicity. So have a nice meal, a little treat, some fruit. Take a walk, go out for a while, make a phone call. Watch a good film and take your mind off things. Someone else says, “I don’t want anything. Leave me alone. I can’t bear to listen to anything.” Well, if you can’t bear to listen, you still have to do something if you want help for your soul. At the very least, I’m telling you to sleep and rest. It helps your nervous system settle down, and you may wake up feeling a little better. Of course, starting to drink until you’re dizzy won’t help. If you turn to that as a refuge, you haven’t overcome the problem. A glass of wine, or another drink you enjoy, is fine. How are you now? A little better? I know, you may be right. A mother with many children might say, “Let me tell you what it’s like with a family like mine. With everything I have to do all day, I don’t have time to be depressed or melancholy.” I understand. You’re right, dear lady. And you’re right too, my dear friend. With all your running around, your expenses, your children, and everything you do, you don’t have time. But there are people whose lives leave room for sadness, people carrying sorrows. We must respect them too, hold them in our thoughts, pray for them from the heart, and try to feel what they feel. They are here among us. It is also true that having something to do can help. When your life is full and you can create something, especially when you feel you are offering something to others, it helps you. I know an elderly lady who still visits institutions. She shops, buys meat from the butcher, and takes it to poor families and care homes. She’s old enough to live in a care home herself, yet she goes to visit them. An acquaintance of mine from the Holy Mountain used to joke with an elderly man, “Well, care home, where are you going?” The old man would go out walking in the gardens there on the Holy Mountain, and the other man called him “care home” because he was so elderly. Now, that lady creates something by giving to others. God seems to have made us so that when we create, we feel joy. Even if you make an omelet—and some people can’t even do that—you can say, “How lovely! I made a wonderful omelet.” Once someone came to my house when I had nothing for us to eat. I’d made myself an omelet earlier, so I said, “I’ll make you an amazing omelet.” Just saying it made me happy, as though I’d offered him something remarkable. What I had made earlier had brought me joy. Learn to cook a little meal. Learn to go and help someone who needs you. You might show someone how to fix their computer, give them a bit of advice on how to do it. That gives you a sense of worth. You say, “I was useful today. I helped someone. Something I said made someone happy. Good. I’m not fit for the scrap heap. I’m not completely useless. Even if I feel useless, I can show someone how to fix a computer.” That gives you... Our time is up. Don’t expect these broadcasts to solve your problems; you will have to solve them yourself. The broadcast succeeds when you stop listening to it. Remember that. This broadcast has succeeded when you no longer need it and no longer listen to it. You can say, “I don’t need it anymore. I don’t want anything. I know Christ is here, the Church is here, and the Mysteries are here. Now am I going to listen to what someone says, as if I don’t know these things? Am I going to live by broadcasts?” Life is something you must walk through yourself; it is your own road. What did our Christ say? “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Christ is the way. You will walk with Christ, through Christ, and toward Christ. He is the road, the destination, the purpose, and your companion along the way. He is everything. Strengthen your soul. That is why we published the book Strengthen Your Soul, a volume containing the written texts of eight broadcasts, and Love Forever. Those two books contain our broadcasts, along with an MP3 CD. I wanted to stress this: when you learn to love, stand on your own feet, and love Christ, you can love other people without depending on them as though you would die without them. You need them, yes, but then your back begins to grow wings... You can fly. You can speak to God yourself, and you can feel well because you hear Christ saying, “You’re doing well, my child. Well done.” Even if I don’t say it to you, even if no one says it, that’s all right. I cannot add anything that you do not already have, however much time I spend with you. And no one can add anything to me that I do not already have. Since we were baptized, since we have God’s love and the Mysteries, since we receive Holy Communion, go to Confession, and continue our spiritual struggle, we lack nothing. What we lack is awareness of these gifts and a way to bring them to light. They are already within us. The grace of Holy Baptism is within us, but we have yet to reveal its power, its dazzling radiance, its greatness. We have yet to experience the happiness and balance it gives us. Then someone spends a little time with us, and we say, “How wonderful you’ve made me feel!” But that feeling is yours. That person drew it out from within you. They brought out what was already there. And... When you fall in love, you are not really falling in love with the other person; you are revealing something of yourself. The beauty hidden within you comes out, and you say, “What an amazing person!” That person has awakened something in you. Of course, stay with them. Keep loving them and nurture your relationship. Just keep your perspective and remember what we’ve said today. Well, I’ve talked your ear off and tired you out. Forgive me. Sometimes, when you’re struggling, having people talk at you and give you advice is another burden. But... But fortunately, the broadcast has a button: you can turn it off or wait for the next broadcast, when things will change. There are earlier and later broadcasts, too. I hope you have a good week and keep smiling. Come on, smile, smile, everyone! The Lord is taking our picture; he photographs us every moment. Smile. It doesn’t matter whether your eyes are closed or open. Just don’t lose the smile in your soul. As for everything else... Always feel that your soul stands before your Creator, a God of very, very great love. May God give you strength. The God of joy and happiness, and our Most Holy Theotokos. “Rejoice, through whom joy will shine forth. Rejoice, through whom the curse will cease.” May the Theotokos give you joy. Say to her, “Rejoice, O Bride Unwedded.” May she, too, give you joy and take every sadness and depression from your soul. May you always be well. The broadcast is repeated, and in a few days it will also be available on our website. You can look for it there; all the broadcasts are saved. So don’t worry if you’re at work when it airs and can’t listen. You can hear it another time that suits you. Vasilis, thank you very much. And thank you for your warm smile, your love, and your support. Have a good week, my dear friends. God be with us, and we’ll speak again. Goodbye.