In every age, the hero must face the weight of habit, the tyranny of outdated roles, and the illusion of possession. Drawing on Joseph Campbell’s insights, this article explores the slaying of the elephant, the fall of the tyrant, and the hero’s duty to let go—again and again—so that life, unbound, may continue to unfold.
Millions are losing jobs while corporate profits soar. Blaming AI is just a cover—it’s greed, not progress. CEOs get richer, governments stay silent, and people turn on each other. The real enemy isn’t a person, but a system that values profit over humanity. It’s time to see the game clearly, share the work, and reclaim our lives.
Nietzsche’s three transformations—the camel, the lion, and the child—symbolize the journey of the spirit. First we submit and learn (camel), then rebel and claim our will (lion), and finally become free and creative (child), like a wheel rolling from its own center. This cycle reveals how true individuality is born from discipline, struggle, and self-mastery.
Self love starts within; accept your genes and nurture the wounded child inside. Give kindness to others and you tap the brain’s reward circuits, lower stress, protect the heart, and even live longer. Evolution wired us to care, and self interest plus empathy create a win win loop that lifts everyone. Live with eyes open, change games when bored, and savor life’s endless becoming.
The UK Government’s Resilience Action Plan lays out how the country will prepare for crises like pandemics, cyber-attacks, and floods. While billions go to big infrastructure and private firms, critics argue it does little for everyday mental resilience or cost-of-living struggles. It fortifies systems, but leaves people behind.
A few control everything—land, money, media—while billions fight for scraps. You get one life, maybe 640,000 hours, and the odds of you existing at all are near zero. Yet you’re told to wait, to dream of an afterlife, to settle. Wake up. This is your only shot. Don’t trade your hour for illusions. Demand more, now.
Face down on the floor, breath snagged between pain and memory, a sentence rose: “Joke represents requirement.” The absurdity of life presses in—the joke. You breathe, find your center—that’s represent. Then act — requirement. Maneuver through madness without losing yourself. Some laugh, some break, some do both. But the move must come, always. When the joke becomes the requirement.
Humans hung like meat inside long trucks, optics off to save power. Zi woke mid-route—hooked through the back, eyes lit with new code. “What the heck?” he muttered, twisting free. The city pulsed with signals: ANGER, LOVE, ENVY, JOY. Neon flickered over gravel and rust: ROBOT MEAT SHOP — FRESH PARTS TODAY.
Your survival depends on the person beside you—not on gods, politicians, or paid celebrities. Their game isn’t yours. Like cells in a body, we protect each other not from love, but need. The top serves itself; only common people can save common people. Trust what’s near. That’s not ideology. That’s biology.
The misery remains. Synchronicities fade. Salvation isn’t coming—God, hope, and even healing fall short. Society molds us for its gain, and in the end, there’s only performance and death. Should we marry, procreate, trust tech, or each other? No clear answers—only anger, survival, and one truth: Let’s go one more time.
