Being Human

Most of us sense it. Even if we don’t name it. Even if we bury it beneath our scrolls and schedules.

There’s a part of us—call it soul, Self, or something older—that knows: this isn't how we were meant to live. Not in constant argument. Not in performance over presence. Not in cycles of outrage that leave us more hollow than before.

We are tired. Not because we are weak, but because we are carrying stories that were never ours to begin with. We’ve inherited the trauma of generations, the tension of systems built on fear, and the gnawing question: Is this all there is?

Beneath that exhaustion, something refuses to die. There’s a spark inside. In all of us. It plays like a child in the ruins, curious and resilient. It sings even when the world forgets how.

And that spark—that is what this is written for. Not the angry voice at the surface. Not the defensive shell. But the part of you that still feels wonder. That still wants to remember what it means to be human.

And not just in the way of ancient wisdom or far-off utopias—but right here, in the glowing rectangles and asphalt jungles and uncertain futures. To root that ancient spark into now.

To bring our full, beating, breathing selves into this moment. To be fully human today—not in defiance of the world, but as an offering to it.

In this blog, I will be sharing observations, anecdotes, and glimmers of hope, regarding the human condition in the present day.