Survival …

We live in a world where everything is deeply interconnected—though not always in ways we immediately notice. A single, seemingly insignificant action in one corner of the globe can ripple outward and cause profound change elsewhere.

Yet so often, we’re trapped in our own heads, running on autopilot, unaware of what’s truly unfolding around us. Our thoughts loop, our reactions flare up, and we lose touch with the bigger picture.

Personally, I’ve always carried a high level of anxiety. I react to everything—constantly. Even the faintest whisper in another room can spark an internal storm. It’s exhausting. But it’s also how I’ve learned to survive.

We all find our own ways of getting through. Some people manage to thrive, while others just barely hold on. And as we race to fix the visible problems outside of ourselves, we tend to ignore the more important ones within.

Strangely, this whole train of thought began while I was trying to figure out what to do about an ant problem in the house. I wanted to handle it in a way that felt right—not through extermination, but through coexistence. Finding a solution that works for both sides. A good outcome, rather than just another reflexive reaction.

It reminded me of weeds. We can either douse them in chemicals—harming the soil, ourselves, and everything that touches it—or we can shift our view and see them as nature’s messengers, even medicine. Dandelions, for instance, are incredibly healing. It’s all about perspective.

Real solutions often live down unexpected side roads. But even then, the question becomes: a solution agreeable to who? Are we just copying what others would do? Is it even a problem to begin with—or is it something we’re meant to learn from?

One of the more subtle traps we fall into when dealing with problems is the urge to label them. We think if we name something, we’ve tamed it. We call people narcissists or psychopaths at the first sign of difficulty—as if assigning a label somehow resolves the discomfort.

Sure, there are people who genuinely fall into those categories, but the terms are now tossed around like confetti, and it only adds to the division. We limit our understanding, all while pretending we’ve gained some clarity. But in reality, we’re just distancing ourselves from complexity—and from each other.

Sometimes what looks like a problem is really an invitation. An opportunity to shift. To grow. The key lies in how much fear or anxiety we allow to stay in the driver’s seat. If we can create some distance between ourselves and our reactive patterns, better, more compassionate solutions tend to appear.

I could wrap this up by saying society is the problem—but that would be missing the point.

Societies evolve. They’re temporary, malleable. Many of the fear-based systems we’ve lived through—our parents included—were born not from some grand conspiracy, but from a lack of insight into our own inner conditions. We look out, rarely in. Our paths feel scripted from birth to death.

But I don’t see this as something to be solved by intellectuals or influencers. Not by the ones with letters behind their names or millions of subscribers. This is a deeper issue. One that each of us can explore on our own, in our own way—if we’re brave enough to question, to feel, to be, instead of simply serve a role someone else wrote for us.

Thanks for reading.