Live a Good Life

Live a Good Life

Live a good life. If there are Gods — and they are just — they will not ask how many prayers you recited, nor how strictly you followed rituals. They will welcome you by the virtues you carried silently each day: the kindness you showed when no one was watching, the courage you summoned when the path was dark, the honesty you held when deception tempted you. If there are Gods and they are unjust, why should we bow to them? And if there are no Gods at all, then your body returns to dust — but the life you lived, the love you gave, and the hope you inspired will live on in the hearts and stories of those you touched.

I think often about my childhood — those early days before the world tried to shape me with rules and answers. In that innocence, God was not a name or a law. God was a presence — an invitation whispered in the quiet moments between thoughts. It was the voice calling softly, “Come dance with me.” Not from a temple or a book, but from the simple joy and pain of being alive.

That invitation to dance — to move with life, with love, with the eternal rhythm beneath existence — is at the heart of everything. It is a call we all hear, if only we listen.

The concept of One God — the singular, unifying force behind all things — may surprise many when I say it didn’t begin with the well-known faiths of today. It began millennia ago in ancient Persia, where my ancestors walked the earth. Zoroastrianism, one of the world’s earliest known monotheistic religions, planted this seed.

Zarathustra — or Zoroaster — was a prophet who changed everything with his message. It was beautifully simple and yet profound:

Good thoughts. Good words. Good deeds.

This triad forms the foundation of spiritual life. Every moment begins in the mind — our thoughts shape our words, which shape our actions. And our actions build the legacy of our lives. This is the real formula for spirituality, not the complex rules that often divide us.

From the dusty roads of Persia came Cyrus the Great, a ruler unlike any other — a king who honored justice, freedom, and respect for all people. His empire was vast, but his heart was revolutionary: he freed slaves, allowed conquered peoples to worship freely, and established one of the earliest declarations of human rights. It was a living embodiment of Zoroaster’s teachings — that true power lies not in domination, but in goodness.

Yet, over centuries, men took the sacred and twisted it. They built walls — physical, political, and spiritual — to divide us by creed and tribe. They claimed exclusive rights to the divine, turning spirituality into a battlefield.

But beyond those walls, the eternal truth remains. I’ve seen it in the quiet moments — in the exhausted smile of a mother, in the courage of a stranger lending a hand, in the music that fills the silence of a lonely night.

Rumi and Hafez, those Persian mystics and poets, understood this deeply. Hafez once said:

“I am a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath moves through.
Listen to the music.”

That music — that breath — is God’s pulse flowing through each of us, urging us to live, to love, to dance. It is not distant, but within — inseparable from our very being.

Where is God? Look inside. Hear the voice that never ends:

Come dance with me.

This dance is not about blind obedience or rigid rules; it is about embracing life’s messiness with courage and grace. It is about patience — the greatest bravery of all. Patience is not passive waiting; it is the wisdom to see the rose beyond the thorn, the dawn beyond the darkest night. It is knowing that transformation, healing, and growth cannot be rushed.

I remember times in my life when patience was all I had. Moments of solitude, where pain was a midwife — painful, yes, but necessary to give birth to new strength. Like a boy becoming a man, I learned that wisdom cannot exist without love. True filth is not outside us, but inside — in bitterness, in hate, in fear.

Patience means trusting the unseen outcome, walking the path even when the destination is shrouded in mist. The lovers of God — the seekers of truth — never run out of patience, for they understand the rhythm of life and spirit. Like the crescent moon, patiently growing into fullness, so must we grow.

So live well. Love deeply. Walk your path with kindness, courage, and patience. Whether just Gods await or none at all, your story matters. Your light matters. The dance continues — forever.