I woke suddenly in the early hours, not from a dream I can remember, but with a deep, heavy ache in my chest. Not personal grief — something broader. A sadness that felt collective. A knowing that whispered:
“We must wake up.”
What are we doing to each other?
As humans, we can be so arrogantly certain — clinging to our beliefs, our religions, our opinions — to the point that we silence, intimidate, even destroy those who see things differently. We kill in the name of ideas we can’t prove. We defend our egos at the expense of our humanity.
And for what?
We are standing on a fragile line. Surrounded by potential, yet ruled by fear. Speaking of love, yet acting from pain. What will become of us, truly, if we do not become more conscious?
More self-aware.
More curious.
More honest with ourselves.
We cannot evolve without self-awareness. We cannot heal if we’re too afraid to look within. And we cannot create a future worth living in if we keep mistaking control for truth.
Maybe that’s why I woke up.
Because some part of me, some ancient knowing, knows that the world needs more people who are awake.
If you feel it too — the ache, the heaviness, the call — maybe you’ve been stirred by something deeper. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where our hope lives: in those who feel the weight of the world and choose to rise anyway.
Do you feel it too?