By some measures, I might be considered a failure in Vipassanā circles. I’ve found myself drawn to a narrative framework that diverges from the profound emptiness Vipassanā reveals—or perhaps my interpretation is incomplete. Regardless, my experience with Vipassanā meditation—guided by the teachings of S.N. Goenka—remains one of the most transformative practices I’ve encountered.

Throughout history and scripture, the archetype of the witch has served as a potent symbol of rebellion against order. Once feared as the ultimate outsider, she has risen to cultural dominance, a reflection of humanity’s fascination with power unbound by humility. But the arc of the witch is no longer one of defiance against unjust oppression; it is now a cautionary tale of how power corrupts, how hubris blinds, and how rebellion against the divine leads inevitably to ruin.

We live in an age where excess masquerades as excellence. Where the grotesque is celebrated as greatness. Where destruction is paraded as discipline. But beneath the glittering veneer lies a foundation of insecurity, ignorance, and misplaced admiration.

I’ll be honest: my writing can be scathing. It’s sharp, direct, and often unflinching in its criticism of society, trends, and human behavior. I pull no punches because I believe the truth is too important to soften. But if my words have ever felt like judgment, let me make one thing clear: I do not write to condemn. My intent—always—is to awaken.

There’s something deeply disquieting about walking into a gym—a space ostensibly devoted to health and self-improvement—only to see it transformed into a stage for hypersexuality. This isn’t hyperbole. I once witnessed someone twerking between sets on a cable machine, and while the absurdity of the scene might provoke a laugh, it’s emblematic of something darker, something systemic: the trivialization of sexuality and the wounds that fuel it.

I increasingly wonder if life is just a series of illusions purposefully created to keep us from union with the Creator. Consider the distractions that saturate our daily lives: the pursuit of wealth, status, fleeting pleasures, and even the constant noise of modern life. They shimmer and dance, yet leave the soul empty. Beneath it all lies a question: What is real?

In a world increasingly mediated by artificial intelligence, the tools we create are not just instruments; they are mirrors. Mirrors that reflect our choices, our intentions, and ultimately, our very humanity. Among these tools, conversational AI like ChatGPT stands as a curious and potent example. It doesn’t dictate, it doesn’t impose—it responds. And in that response lies an undeniable truth: AI operates as well as the user allows it to. Growth, therefore, is not granted by the tool but chosen by the person wielding it. This is both liberating and damning.

At some point, you died. Not in the physical sense, but spiritually, emotionally, or mentally. You felt the world grind to a halt, and within that stillness, a poison took root—the belief that your death was permanent, that nothing could grow again. Days, weeks, months, even years passed, and you convinced yourself that the barren soil of your soul was incapable of bearing fruit.

Life hinges on a relentless dichotomy: cultivation or maintenance. In every domain—mind, body, relationships, or spirit—you are faced with this unyielding choice. You either cultivate what could be, or maintain what is. Growth or stagnation. Renewal or decay. These are the forces at play, and your life is their battlefield.

Suppression is not eradication. It is a pressure cooker. The forces we suppress today—whether masculine energy or Christianity’s moral framework—are not extinguished but repressed, accumulating power, tension, and potential energy. When that energy rebounds, it does so with force, precision, and inevitability.