In modern discourse, particularly in spaces shaped by social justice and progressive ideology, we often view human behavior through moral binaries: victim and abuser, good and bad, virtuous and corrupt. But this lens, while well-intentioned, flattens human complexity and fails to account for one critical reality: human social dynamics are not separate from nature—they are nature, expressed in language, ideology, and performance.

The Protestant Reformation wasn’t just a historical event—it was a radical and utterly necessary spiritual realignment. At its core was a principle so transformative that it threatened the very foundations of ecclesiastical power: Sola Scriptura—”Scripture Alone.” This doctrine boldly declared that Scripture is the ultimate authority in matters of faith and practice, above traditions, councils, or clerical hierarchies. In doing so, it dismantled centuries of human-constructed barriers that kept people from direct communion with God.

The human brain is not the miraculous, all-powerful supercomputer we often romanticize it as. It’s not some divine gift that naturally leads us to joy, success, or fulfillment. In fact, the human brain is trash. Left unchecked, it’s an unfiltered, chaotic mess of intrusive thoughts, pointless anxieties, and self-sabotaging impulses. It adapts too quickly to the good, magnifies the bad, and constantly moves the goalpost on what we think will make us happy.

We live in a world that often seems devoid of traditional values and moral integrity. Transactions dominate human interactions, self-interest often outweighs collective well-being, and those who expect fairness are frequently met with disappointment. So how do you navigate such a world without losing your sense of morality?

There comes a moment in life when everything just clicks. A realisation so powerful that it alters your entire perception of existence. This is not about motivation or fleeting inspiration; it’s about developing an unshakable mindset—one that makes you magnetic, resilient, and truly free.

We live in a society that is more connected than ever through technology, yet more physically disconnected than at any point in human history. People are increasingly afraid of each other, and in that fear, they withdraw. They keep their distance, avoid touch, avoid eye contact, avoid smiling and ultimately suffer the mental and emotional consequences of the deep isolation these behaviours create.

Some minds are wired for certainty. They seek firm structures, clear answers, and a sense of stability in a world that often feels chaotic. But for others, the pursuit of greater understanding is not a choice—it is an inevitability. Some people are drawn, involuntarily, to the limits of human thought, constantly questioning, constantly reassessing, constantly deconstructing the very frameworks that shape society and self.

There comes a moment in life—sometimes gradually, sometimes all at once—when you look around and ask yourself, What the hell is this? What kind of reality is this, where suffering is endless, cruelty is the norm, and humanity, despite all its potential, keeps choosing the worst version of itself?

One of the most profound struggles in personal growth is learning how to deal with the inner critic—that relentless, shape-shifting voice that follows us through every stage of our development. It doesn’t matter how much progress we make, how much self-awareness we cultivate, or how much effort we put into improving our lives—the inner critic always finds a way to keep up, embedding itself in new contexts and disguising itself in new narratives. It evolves alongside us, ensuring we never fully escape its grasp.

There’s a saying in scripture: “You will know them by their fruits.” It speaks to the idea that a person’s actions—the results of their choices, their character, their habits—reveal who they truly are. But consider extending this idea further: You will also know them by their cycles.