Ideologies shape the world—for better or worse. They seep into our politics, economies, cultures, and personal lives, influencing how we see ourselves and others. But in a world saturated with competing narratives, many dripping with vindictiveness, how do you separate the meaningful from the misguided? How do you judge an ideology for what it truly is, rather than what it pretends to be?
Imagine a society where nothing is sacred, nothing permanent, and nothing worth suffering for. A culture where relationships, commitments, and even people are disposable—tossed aside like last year’s phone or a pair of old shoes. That’s where we are now. Welcome to the wasteland we built with our own hands.
There is a growing temptation in modern thought to reject the idea of patterns, archetypes, and systematic understandings of the world. Many today clamor for a world of unfettered individualism, unbound by tradition, norms, or structure. They see patterns as constraints—barriers that stifle creativity and confine freedom. To those people, I offer a simple warning: you are playing with fire, and destruction is the inevitable result.
Anthropocentrism is the spine of every story humanity has ever written. It’s the unspoken assumption that underlies every narrative, every philosophy, every culture. Humanity at the center. Humanity as the meaning-maker. Whether we’re carving myths into stone tablets or streaming films on Netflix, the same theme prevails: us. Our struggles, our triumphs, our survival.
Life is messy. It’s not a revelation, but it’s a truth most people go out of their way to not think about. They pretend their messes don’t exist or, worse, judge others for theirs, as if their own path to “cleanliness” didn’t involve stumbling through chaos. The reality is this: life is either a process of purification or defilement, and neither one is as tidy as we’d like it to be.
The battle raging in the world is not out there. It is not in the systems, the governments, or the endless headlines of atrocity and chaos. These are merely reflections, shadows cast by something far more intimate: the war within our own hearts. The external world is the manifestation of the content of our souls—a theater in which our fears, desires, and failures play out on a grand and often devastating scale.
Modernity loves comfort. It thrives on the ideal of effortlessness, a curated reality where everything is secularised, smoothed, and—above all—convenient. We surround ourselves with technologies and ideologies designed to make our lives less demanding, less engaging and less meaningful. But in doing so, we’ve hollowed out one of the most essential aspects of existence: the struggle to transcend ourselves. Nowhere is this more evident than in our relationship—or lack thereof—with God.
Dear Humanity,
Temptation is not a fleeting experience—it is a reality, persistent and often overwhelming. It can strike when we least expect it, like a sudden gust of wind testing the strength of a ship’s sails. For many, the fight against temptation is a lonely battle, fought with clenched fists and white-knuckled resolve. But for those who have leaned on the power of prayer, the struggle takes on a different form—one where surrender becomes the greatest weapon and God’s grace, the ultimate victory.
The will to power is not a fleeting thought or a passing moment of temptation. It’s a force that reveals the deepest recesses of our character. It exposes who we are and challenges who we hope to become. You’ve felt this force before—perhaps a vision of yourself wielding power, charm, and the ability to bend others to your will. The allure is undeniable. But the cost? Catastrophic.