What if giving could be as fluid as buying? What if, instead of waiting for a campaign or a guilt-driven appeal, you could give right now — ten cents, fifty cents, one dollar — and know it would ripple faithfully into the world?

This is the vision for micro-giving, not as a gimmick or gamified feature, but as a spiritual technology: a way of restoring giving to the fabric of daily life, and reorienting us toward generosity as a felt state rather than a measured achievement.

In my own work I have come to understand stewardship as tending something that is not mine to own, keeping it whole, and passing it on uncorrupted. I try to live by these principles, but I am still learning how to embody them.

I had the sense that this way of living would line up with the Ten Commandments. Not as a replacement or an improvement, but as a parallel. The Commandments are given here exactly as they appear in scripture, alongside a reading in the language of stewardship.

This is simply how they read to me. The resemblance is not forced. It comes through naturally. I offer it in that spirit.

This is a meditation on perception, coherence, and the axis of Love. It explores the human experience as a dimensional orientation rather than a fixed identity, suggesting that our suffering arises not from what we are, but how we choose to perceive. Rather than striving toward something higher, we are invited to re-align with what already is. The language follows the intuitive cadence of the insight itself — layered, asymmetric, and precise in its inner logic. A brief summary and glossary follow the full piece.

We often speak of AI as something we must teach to behave ethically. But what if the real question is: Are we ethical enough to teach?

This piece explores the AI alignment problem not as a technical challenge, but as a spiritual mirror—revealing humanity’s own need to rediscover moral coherence and higher purpose.

There is no better and no worse. No hierarchy. Though we’d be forgiven for believing in such a thing because our grouping does operate in such a way still.

But this is a throwback. It is our animalistic side, that part of us we’re evolving from, which still tells us things are scarce and to have more is to be better. Safe.

Coupled with the unconscionable way in which our greatest companies and institutions bend themselves to their quarterly targets, growing but not improving, like a tumour, or a city expanding without soul—Omelas—tempting the human spirit in any which direction necessary to achieve… what?

Giving up drugs is a process.

It sounds very cliché and ‘rough’ in a way—the expression: giving up drugs.

The whole thing is a lot more complex than simply stopping ingesting substances. You can stop ingesting intoxicants and still be addicted to substances.

It’s called being a sober addict.

To truly ‘give up’ substance use, one must come into contact with their true self—and take this Self up.

Recognise it. Value it. Hold it.

And so, the task is to learn to love yourself.

How simple it sounds…

I’ve often reflected on the state of humanity and the greed-oriented social constructs we find ourselves in—systems designed to deliver value to a select few at the top. It’s easy to conclude that hierarchical systems are inherently problematic, that no society should serve the interests of a singular apex.

But then it struck me: there is nothing inherently wrong with hierarchies. The flaw lies not in the structure but in the character of those at the top.

Whether in the expansive spirals of galaxies, the twisting growth of plants, the structure of subatomic particles, or the dualities of philosophy and thought, chirality offers a profound lens to explore the balance and interplay of opposites. It invites us to see directionality and orientation not as static features but as dynamic principles that shape systems—both tangible and intangible—at every scale.

In today’s fast-paced world, stress has become a common companion for many of us. We often hear about the detrimental effects of chronic stress on our health, but have you ever considered how stress might influence your breathing patterns and, in turn, affect your thyroid function?

In our rapidly changing world, the ebb and flow of cultural movements across the globe often seem as rhythmic as the very breath we take. This observation invites a fascinating metaphor: could the relationship between Eastern and Western cultures be understood as the Earth itself breathing in and out?

In the last post, we explored the subtle yet powerful role carbon dioxide (CO2) plays in our breath. I called it The Hidden Dance of Breath because, for many, CO2 is often misunderstood or overlooked in favour of oxygen. However, this gaseous exchange between CO2 and oxygen (O2) is a vital balancing act that sustains life—and mastering this balance can lead to a deeper mastery of the breath itself, empowering our breathwork practice—and, by extension, our life—with greater purpose and control, recognising that the two are deeply interconnected.

Breathing is often taken for granted. It’s something we do thousands of times each day, unconsciously, until we pause to take a deep breath or catch ourselves after exertion. Oxygen (O2) is often the star of the show in these moments, regarded as the essential element that keeps us alive. But there’s another, often overlooked, actor in the dance of breath: carbon dioxide (CO2).

Wim Hof brought to the West a well-encapsulated approach to balancing body, mind, and breath. Cold exposure, in the form of ice baths and cold showers, is a key element of this practice, but it often comes with mental resistance. By thinking or talking ourselves out of cold exposure, we limit our potential well-being.