Imagine a place inside you where everything you have buried waits—the thoughts you won’t speak, the desires too impossible to hold—pressed into the walls until even you forget them.

The habit of scarcity has been drilled into us—this idea that we must grasp,
that we must trade, 
that we must be chosen. But that is the great illusion.
The truth is, we are the ones who generate, we are the ones who circulate, we are the ones who sustain.

The question is not just what we are fighting against but what we are building—what we are willing to stand for, no matter the conditions.

The power of women is akin to the mycelial network.

We can get mad that we are not being listened to but it is still a child’s political mind that will not take responsibility for being heard, for making it attractive to the listener.

24 points to question how you think

The fundamental fear that governs human existence is not death, but exile. Death, to most, is a long anesthetic sleep. But to be cast out, to be erased from the human circle, is a slow and public undoing. We are social animals; we survive through connection.

Before reacting—before retreating into the familiar grooves of outrage or approval—let’s step back. Consider, for a moment, what it truly means to make someone great. Whether a leader or a lover, a parent or a pioneer—how does greatness actually emerge? 

We discover that the deepest rest comes not from shutting down but from being fully engaged. The only requirement? A commitment to continuous connection—never turning off, never disconnecting from life’s current.

AI is evolving at a speed most people cannot comprehend, in a way that is nearly inconceivable unless you’ve done a lot of psychedelics or had a near-death experience.

What we often call grieving is something else entirely. Just as what we call love is often hate, what we call grief is often regret. It is performance, drama, the echo of what we did not do while that person was alive.