SPECIAL ISSUE #12
CAN WE STILL SAVE OUR SOCIETY AND OUR SOULS?
I now ask myself this question regularly. I am an (almost) boundless optimist and in this case, I am struggling with the answer. I am still a person who believes and wants to believe in the good - with all my heart. In view of what is happening around the world, it may seem almost naïve to cling to this belief. I think we all agree that the world as it was in December 2019 is irrevocably lost and we have to prepare for a different (I am deliberately avoiding the word “new”) world. We have lost so much in the last two years and it will take not years but decades to come to terms with it all.
Socially and interpersonally, we have lost the most and our children will have to bear the burden of those consequences. What really terrifies me is when speaking to young people that are just beginning their lives how well the gaslighting and the one-sided narrative have turned them into good little soldiers that repeat everything they have heard in the mainstream media. Their indifference and even intolerance to any other arguments are unsettling to me. The willingness to comply with most is so frightening and how simple it is to manipulate them. They worry about the climate - not really knowing what they are talking about and absolutely unwilling to give up any luxury to actually make a real difference - but they don’t give a shake of a rat arse about what is being injected into their bodies and what the masks and useless measures have done to them. They don’t even care what the masses of masks do to our environment.
Please don’t get me wrong, I do not blame that generation in the least. It is not their fault that they grew up in a bubble that did not prepare them for real life. This generation has grown up with the seemingly perfect world of social media and simply can't imagine life without a smartphone and 24/7 distractions. This makes it more difficult for these young people to enter into, build and maintain real and long-term relationships which are essential for a stable and fulfilled life.
On the one hand, they become obtuse and on the other hand, they become more and more susceptible to mental illnesses like depression. We know that suicide rates among young people and even children have increased rapidly in the last two years. Now it has also hit my son's circle of friends and yesterday he gave his last respects to a friend who hanged himself.
Our society is getting rougher and rougher and it's getting harder and harder to survive in it. So many young people feeling unable to send out an SOS to receive the support to enable them to live their lives is a tragic testimony to our society.
Many have forgotten the meaning of SOS is - SAVE OUR SOULS!
I wrote a letter on the subject of depression a while ago and I hope that our society will still manage to improve the living conditions for the coming generations so that they can look to their future with joy and confidence. We need to heal so many broken souls in the years to come and we need to start with our inner circle and our families.
If you would like to connect with me, find out more about the Enneagram and yourself, how it can transform you and your life, I would be happy to take the time for a speed coaching call that you can reserve right here, go to my website or simply hit reply and get in touch with me directly.
🎶My Song of the Week
For more good music, go to this Spotify playlist where you can find all the songs from the Change & Evolve Letters!
📚My Poem of the Week
Is by my alltime favorite Irish poet W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)
A Dialogue Of Self And Soul
My Soul , I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
"Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is done:
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul
My Self . The consecretes blade upon my knees
Is Sato's ancient blade, still as it was,
Still razor-keen, still like a looking-glass
Unspotted by the centuries;
That flowering, silken, old embroidery, torn
From some court-lady's dress and round
The wodden scabbard bound and wound
Can, tattered, still protect, faded adorn
My Soul . Why should the imagination of a man
Long past his prime remember things that are
Emblematical of love and war?
Think of ancestral night that can,
If but imagination scorn the earth
And intellect is wandering
To this and that and t'other thing,
Deliver from the crime of death and birth.
My self . Montashigi, third of his family, fashioned it
Five hundred years ago, about it lie
Flowers from I know not what embroidery —
Heart's purple — and all these I set
For emblems of the day against the tower
Emblematical of the night,
And claim as by a soldier's right
A charter to commit the crime once more.
My Soul. Such fullness in that quarter overflows
And falls into the basin of the mind
That man is stricken deaf and dumb and blind,
For intellect no longer knows
I, Is from the I, Ought, or I knower from the I Known —
That is to say, ascends to Heaven;
Only the dead can be forgiven;
But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.
My Self . A living man is blind and drinks his drop.
What matter if the ditches are impure?
What matter if I live it all once more?
Endure that toil of growing up;
The ignominy of boyhood; the distress
Of boyhood changing into man;
The unfinished man and his pain
Brought face to face with his own clumsiness;
The finished man among his enemies? —
How in the name of Heaven can he escape
That defiling and disfigured shape
The mirror of malicious eyes
Casts upon his eyes until at last
He thinks that shape must be his shape?
And what's the good of an escape
If honour find him in the wintry blast?
I am content to live it all again
And yet again, if it be life to pitch
Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch,
A blind man battering blind men;
Or into that most fecund ditch of all,
The folly that man does
Or must suffer, if he woos
A proud woman not kindred of his soul.
I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest.
I found this beautiful little fellow, guessing one of my cats brought him in. I took him out, hoping he will be alright…
Wishing you a wonderful Saturday and would love to hear from you!