The Dreamer's Pen

Sometimes I just sit. I don’t do anything. I let the world move around me and I just watch. In those moments, the questions hit me like stones in a pond and they ripple endlessly: what are we doing here? Why are we really here? Why does it feel like everything we do is designed to measure us, compare us, rank us, and monetize us?

I look around and it’s almost unbearable. It feels like almost everyone is obsessed with achievement. Win, win, win. If someone else falls, if someone else is hurt along the way, it doesn’t seem to matter. Step over, step on, push aside, because winning justifies it all. I watch, and I can’t understand. What is the point? Can’t we just get along? Can’t we work together, support each other and create something meaningful without crushing people beneath us? But no. Every year, it feels like it’s worse. More pressure. More comparison. More obsession with being seen, being validated, being “successful.” Social media doesn’t help. It doesn’t just amplify this – it distorts it. Every feed is full of people shouting: “look at me, look at me, buy this, try this, do this, see what I can do, see what I have.” I just… I can’t get it. I don’t understand. I don’t want it.

Everywhere I look – ugh everything has a logo. Everywhere I look, the same brands of designer purses, the same luxury cars, the same watches, and the same shoes. They are supposed to mean something. They are supposed to prove that you are successful, that you are worthy, and that you belong. It is everywhere. One big, constant, unrelenting advertisement for socioeconomic status.

“I’m poor. I’m rich. I have a lot of money. You don’t. I’m successful. You’re worthless.”

Everywhere I turn, the message is the same. And I think, is this really all we’ve become? Are we really just walking billboards for logos, constantly judging each other based on what we can buy, what we can display, and what we can show?

Honestly, sometimes it makes me want to scream. Not because I want to hurt anyone, but because it’s so loud, so constant, and so inescapable. I think about the world that could exist if we weren’t all so trapped in this obsession. I think about the lives we could live if we didn’t have to prove ourselves at every moment and if we didn’t have to compete just to feel alive. I think about how lonely it is and how empty it feels to see people obsessed with status while the small, quiet, real, and beautiful parts of life are being ignored.

Sometimes I look out the window. Sometimes I just stare. I see the squirrels darting across the yard and the cute little juncos hopping along the fence. And they don’t care about money. They don’t care about status. They don’t care about being seen. They just exist. They are alive and they are free. And somehow they are happy. And I think: that’s what I want. That’s what humans used to be. That’s what life could be if we remembered what mattered. And then I look around at everything else, the buildings, the screens, the endless logos, the social media feeds, the brands, and the advertisements and I feel exhausted. I feel frustrated. I feel… sad.

However, there’s this tension in me. On one hand, the pull of society, the rules, the frameworks, and the expectations. The need to survive, to belong, and to be secure. And on the other hand, this deep, aching longing to step away from it all. To teach. To learn. To wander. To write. To breathe. To watch the world and just… exist. To notice. To pay attention. To feel. To create. To connect.I think maybe that’s the point. Maybe the questions themselves are the point. Maybe the restlessness, the confusion, and the sense of being out of place… maybe that’s what it means to be awake.

I try to imagine answers. Maybe the answer is quiet. Maybe it’s in the small things. Maybe it’s in noticing the wind in the trees, the way sunlight falls across the floor, and the way a mind opens when it understands something for the first time. Maybe it’s in teaching, in sharing, and in nurturing. Maybe the real wealth isn’t money, or brands, or followers, or trophies. Maybe it’s depth. Maybe it’s presence. Maybe it’s awareness. Maybe it’s real connection.

I wonder… are there people who feel this way? Who watch the world spin and feel it’s broken, but who don’t want to abandon it entirely? Who want to live but live differently? Who want to resist quietly, in their own way? And I hope so. Because maybe, if enough of us do, even just quietly, the world will shift. Even just a little.

I don’t have the answers. Not really. And sometimes that feels hopeless. Sometimes it feels terrifying. But I also think maybe it’s okay. Maybe the point isn’t to solve the riddle, but to keep asking it, to keep noticing, and to keep choosing authenticity, depth, connection, even when it feels small, even when it feels futile, even when it’s invisible.

So I teach. I write. I walk. I breathe. I watch. I notice. I feel. I create. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s what being here is really about. Maybe that’s the point.

The world is loud, chaotic, and obsessed with status, consumption, and winning. But the world is also quiet, and subtle, and full of small miracles, if you’re paying attention. And maybe the purpose of being here, at least for those of us who feel too deeply, is to notice. To exist fully, to question, to care, to connect, to create, to love, and to resist in the only way that matters: by living our lives truly, deeply, authentically, even when it’s lonely