Why would someone turn on the very person who offered them a lifeline?

 We’ve all heard the adage, “Lend a hand.” It’s etched into our collective consciousness as the epitome of human kindness, a fundamental pillar of community and compassion. See someone struggling? Reach out! Offer support! Be the hero they need! It sounds wonderful, right? Like something straight out of a feel-good movie. But here’s a rather uncomfortable truth, one that flies in the face of all those warm fuzzy feelings: people sometimes prefer not to receive open help. And believe it or not, in today’s hyper-individualistic, often privacy-obsessed world, this sentiment is becoming even more pronounced. It’s a strange paradox: we yearn for connection but often recoil from direct intervention when we’re at our most vulnerable. Think about it. There’s a quiet dignity in solving your problems, isn’t there? You experience a feeling of victory when you successfully navigate a challenging situation without requiring assistance. When someone swoops in with an outstretched hand, no matter how well-intentioned, it can sometimes feel like an unspoken judgment—a spotlight on your perceived inability. It undermines the independence and self-reliance we all strive for. We curate perfect online personas, showcasing our triumphs and hiding our struggles, only to have someone directly address our very real, uncurated need for assistance. It feels exposed. It feels… less than. Now, imagine you’ve spotted someone in genuine need. A friend is overwhelmed with work, a family member is financially strapped, and a neighbor is struggling with home repairs. Your heart goes out to them. You see a clear path to make their life easier, so you step in. You offer your time, your money, your expertise, and your connections. You roll up your sleeves and immerse yourself fully, sincerely believing that you are performing a worthwhile act. Perhaps there’s initial gratitude, a sigh of relief, and a heartfelt thank you. You feel wonderful. You’ve made a difference! Have you successfully accomplished your mission? Now, prepare yourself for some complexity. What happens a few months down the line? Alternatively, as the cynical wisdom suggests, "After a year, they will drive you insane, labeling you as the greatest evil." It sounds extreme, almost unbelievable. Why would someone turn on the very person who offered them a lifeline? Yet, it happens more often than you might think, and the reasons are as messy and complex as human nature itself. Occasionally, the initial gratitude can morph into resentment. That feeling of being "helped" can slowly eat away at their self-esteem. They might start to feel indebted, or even controlled, by your generosity. Your assisting hand, once a comfort, can become a constant reminder of a time they were weak or struggling—something they’d rather forget. It’s like a shadow that follows them, and in their desire to shake it off, they might try to push you away. Or perhaps, your help inadvertently created a new dependency. Maybe they started relying on you for things they could (or should) have learned to do themselves. When you eventually pull back or set boundaries, they might feel abandoned or even betrayed. You were there, then you weren't, and now they're stuck, though you didn't mean to. The easiest target for their frustration? They relied on you to provide solutions. Then there’s the unfortunate human tendency to shift blame. If issues persist following your intervention, who is more readily blameworthy than the individual who 'intervened'? "If only you hadn't done X," or "Your help just made Y worse." It’s an irrational defense mechanism, a way to absolve themselves of responsibility and project their lingering problems onto an external source. Even if your kindness had nothing to do with it, you are blamed for their ongoing issues. Provide assistance generously, akin to offering someone a mirror during a difficult moment with their appearance. They didn’t ask for it, and now they’re mad at you for noticing. Philosophers might say it’s about autonomy. Psychologists might call it ego defense. I refer to it as “the boomerang of goodwill”—when you extend kindness, it occasionally returns and strikes you unexpectedly.  Therefore, does such behavior mean we should all just become hermits, never offering a shred of support? Absolutely not. But it does mean we need to be somewhat savvier, perhaps more nuanced in how we offer help. Instead of just swooping in, perhaps the best approach is to empower rather than enable. Ask, "What do you think would help?" or "How can I support your efforts?" Offer a listening ear, a resource, and a temporary boost, but always ensure the person maintains control over their life. Occasionally, the most valuable help isn't the open, obvious kind. It's the quiet gesture, the subtle nudge, the connection to a different resource, or simply respecting someone's space to figure things out themselves, even if it’s painful to watch. It’s about understanding that true help isn't about making yourself the hero; it’s about fostering resilience, preserving dignity, and acknowledging the complex tapestry of human pride, vulnerability, and the sometimes-uncomfortable dance between giving and receiving. Helping hands can be challenging, but with a little wisdom, we can still extend them in ways that truly uplift, without unintentionally creating future enemies. So what’s the lesson? Help quietly. Help wisely. Help like a ninja—no cape, no credit, just stealth compassion. In the end, the best kind of help is the type that does not seek applause. 

The Pointlessness of Billionaires and Politicians

 We’ve probably all fantasized about such a scenario at some point. The world is turning upside down, and while everyone else is running around like headless chickens, you’re as cool as a cucumber, descending into your secret, fully charged, reinforced bunker. The lights come on, the air purifiers hum, and you settle in with your freeze-dried lasagna, ready to weather the end of the world in relative comfort. Sounds pretty sweet, right? Now, let's take a moment to confront the harsh realities of the situation. Is the idea of a bunker appealing to you? It’s probably the most complicated, energy-consuming, and ultimately depressing dead end in the entire survival guide. The truth is that when a global disaster occurs, there is truly no escape—at least not in a meaningful way. And a bunker, far from being your salvation, can just be a costly, very lonely tomb. Why I Think So. The critical question is: how can one gain access to a bunker and remain safe inside it? First, let’s talk about the sheer logistics and cost. Building a bunker that could actually withstand a major apocalyptic event—think nuclear war, a supervolcano, or a pandemic that could destroy the world—isn’t just digging a hole and pouring concrete in. We’re talking deep underground structures, sophisticated air filtration systems (for radiation, pathogens, ash, and whatnot), self-sustaining power sources, massive water purification plants, and enough food and supplies to last for years, possibly decades. This isn’t a DIY project for your backyard. The result is an engineering marvel that costs tens, if not hundreds of millions, and maybe even billions for really sturdy bunkers. Therefore, that dream remains unattainable for approximately 99.999% of the population. But let's say you're one of the ultra-rich who can afford it. Great! Now, what about the big moment? The "event" happens. Are you in your bunker? Are you at home? Are you at work? On vacation? If you're not physically inside, good luck getting there. The world outside will be a mess, the roads jammed, and the communications systems down. Your impenetrable fortress is useless if you can't reach it. And even if you do manage to get inside, the problems don't stop. How long do you have supplies? Experts say you'll need at least two years, ideally five, given how long it might take for the outside world to become at least somewhat habitable. That's a lot of dry food, a lot of clean water, and many air filters. And please keep in mind the medical supplies. One serious infection, one broken bone, one appendicitis, and your perfectly sealed haven turns into a very unpleasant hospice.  Human psychology emerges as the most terrifying monster of all time. For the real horror show: your own mind. Imagine being isolated from the world, sometimes for months or even years, with a handful of other people (if you're lucky enough to have company). Forget about external threats for a moment. What about internal ones? The fever of isolation is real. Even under normal circumstances, confinement can lead to intense irritability, paranoia, and depression. In an apocalyptic bunker, under immense stress and without end, these emotions will be amplified a thousandfold. Disagreements over diminishing resources, personality conflicts, boredom, and existential dread will become commonplace. Without purpose, without natural light, without simply going outside, the psychological toll will be enormous. The suicide rate will likely increase dramatically. Even if you survive the apocalypse, will you really survive?  Why There's No Escape. However, the significant issue is that bunkers offer a false promise: you cannot remain underground indefinitely. Eventually, you have to emerge. And what do you immerse yourself in? Let's say the air is breathable, the radiation has dissipated sufficiently, and the zombies have, well, decomposed. What's left? A world completely transformed. Cities are in ruins. Infrastructure is gone. The skills needed to survive in a bunker (managing complex systems, monitoring air quality) are suddenly useless. Now you have to hunt, farm, build, find clean water without a massive filtration system, and defend yourself from other, potentially desperate survivors. You've survived the apocalypse, but you haven't escaped its aftermath. You're trading one terrifying scenario for another. You have successfully dodged the initial blow, only to step into a whole new ring with new, equally deadly challenges. This time, you are beginning anew, likely weakened, socially isolated, and mentally fragile due to your forced underground vacation. What is the point of surviving if there is nothing to live for? There is no society, no culture, no community, and no purpose beyond surviving biologically. The bunker offers temporary relief from the immediate threat, but it offers no solution to the long-term, fundamental human need for connection, meaning, and a functioning world. The real survival strategy is given to you by God, the creator, energy, or nature, as you were raised to call it. Therefore, the next time you imagine yourself in a bunker, remember to breathe. Instead of daydreaming about hiding, maybe focus on building resilience now. Learn practical skills, foster strong social connections, diversify your financial stability, and generally live a life that prepares you for any challenge, not just the one you can afford to hide from. But it makes sense when you vote for politicians who truly care about people and their future. Don’t vote for politicians who prioritize defense and strengthening their military arsenal. History shows that these leaders consistently fail, but only after causing significant suffering to the population.  In the face of a real global disaster, the harsh reality remains that there is no real way out. There is no real escape to a bunker, a spaceship, or anywhere else. 

A Full Man Doesn't Believe a Hungry Man

Have you ever struggled to explain a challenging experience to someone who has never experienced anything remotely similar? Perhaps you were extremely concerned about finances, and a friend with a trust fund simply suggested, "Why don't you just save more?" Or perhaps you were battling a chronic illness, and someone perpetually healthy suggested you "just try thinking positively." In those moments, you probably felt a pang of frustration, thinking, "They just don't get it." "A full man does not believe a hungry man." It's a simple sentence, but its wisdom runs deep, touching on empathy, perspective, and the sometimes-invisible walls that separate our understanding of the world. First, let’s clarify that this proverb is not solely about someone who has eaten a large lunch and doubts the existence of someone who is literally starving.   This quote isn't just about someone with a full belly. It represents someone who enjoys a state of comfort, security, and privilege in various aspects of life. They might be financially stable, healthy, mentally sound, well-educated, or have a strong support system. They've rarely, if ever, had to truly struggle for their fundamental needs or face significant systemic barriers. Their "fullness" means they don't experience scarcity, fear, or profound lack. Conversely, the "hungry man" is someone experiencing genuine deprivation or hardship. Such destitution could be literal hunger but also includes financial insecurity, chronic illness, mental health struggles, lack of opportunities, discrimination, or living in an unstable environment. Their "hunger" signifies a deep-seated need, a constant struggle, or an awareness of limited resources that shapes their daily reality.  The core of the proverb is that it's incredibly difficult for someone living in a state of comfort  to truly grasp, or even believe, the stark realities and desperate needs of someone experiencing deprivation. Their comfortable reality makes the other's struggle seem alien, exaggerated, or even self-inflicted. This disconnect isn't necessarily because the "full man" is mean-spirited or intentionally dismissive. Often, it's a fundamental lack of shared experience. Our brains are wired to understand the world through our lens. If you've never had to worry about where your next meal comes from, it's difficult to internalize the paralyzing fear of food insecurity. If you've always had access to excellent healthcare, the concept of being unable to afford life-saving medication might seem like a distant, unbelievable horror. This lack of firsthand experience can lead to several things: Skepticism: "Is it really that bad?" Minimization: "They're just exaggerating." Blame: "They must have done something wrong to put themselves into that situation." Oversimplification: "Why don't they just obtain a better job/move/try harder?" It's easier for the comfortable mind to invent a simple explanation or dismiss the problem than to confront a reality that might be deeply uncomfortable or challenge their worldview. Imagine a multi-millionaire CEO who dismisses calls for a living wage, suggesting that minimum wage workers should rely on their own initiative. He may genuinely believe that anyone can achieve wealth if they work diligently enough, because that was his experience, perhaps forgetting inherited advantages or lucky breaks. Meanwhile, the worker struggling to pay rent and feed their family on poverty wages knows that "hard work" alone isn't always enough to overcome systemic barriers. The "full" owner simply cannot fathom the "hungry" worker's daily impossible choices. Someone who has always been robustly healthy might struggle to believe the severity of chronic pain, invisible illnesses like fibromyalgia or lupus, or the debilitating effects of long-term depression. They might offer well-intentioned but ultimately unhelpful advice like "just exercise more" or "you need a better attitude," because their own "fullness" of health prevents them from understanding the "hunger" for basic physical or mental well-being. Individuals who have never experienced racial discrimination, gender bias, or ableism might genuinely doubt the experiences of those who face these challenges daily. "Racism doesn't exist anymore," says the person who has never been judged by their skin color. "Women are treated equally," claims someone who has never faced workplace sexism.  A student from a well-funded school district with ample resources, tutors, and extracurriculars might struggle to understand why a student from an underfunded, struggling school in a different neighborhood performs differently. They might attribute it to individual effort rather than the vast disparity in opportunities among their resources, blinding them to the need for basic educational support elsewhere. Understanding "A full man does not believe a hungry man" isn't just an intriguing observation; it's crucial for building a more empathetic and just society. When individuals in positions of power, influence, or comfort fail to acknowledge the realities faced by those who are struggling, it results in "full" people frequently devising solutions for "hungry" people; however, these solutions often fall short because they do not address the root causes or true impacts of deprivation. If struggles aren't believed, they aren't addressed, allowing cycles of poverty, illness, and discrimination to continue.  It creates a chasm of misunderstanding and resentment between different groups in society. If we dismiss someone's struggle, a good first step might be to ask ourselves if our "fullness" is preventing us from truly hearing their "hunger." It challenges us to actively listen, to seek different perspectives, and to cultivate the empathy needed to bridge those understanding gaps, even when our experiences don't directly align. We can only start addressing their needs if we genuinely believe in the "hungry man." This just popped up in my mind because when I see some people looking for money to conquer other planets. Others talk about how advanced artificial intelligence is and how everything will be great. Politicians discuss rearmament and cutting spending needed to improve lives. Others kill innocent people every day. Some call for the wars to stop; others call for us to provide them some food. And the reality is that half the world still does not have access to clean water. How many people really go to bed hungry is unknown, and others throw away food they bought and didn't use. Diverse individuals hold varying perspectives.

God forbid that the blind man should see! An instructive story

The adage, "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely," is widely known. But what happens when a person suddenly gains a significant advantage, such as wealth, knowledge, or influence? Can a rapid change in circumstances, even a seemingly positive one, drive a person insane? That’s the question behind the old saying, “God forbid that the blind man should see!” It’s a succinct statement that hints at the potential dangers of instant enlightenment or wealth, suggesting that unpreparedness for such a radical change can lead to disastrous consequences. Think of it as the lottery winner who ends up broke and miserable or the celebrity caught up in the relentless glare of overnight fame. These are extreme examples, but the underlying principle holds true: a sudden and undeserved advantage can distort perception, undermine empathy, and ultimately lead to a person’s downfall. Let us examine this idea through a story about a man named Silas, who embodies the very warning implied in this proverb.

Silas was, to say the least, a nobody. He spent his life in the dusty fields of Oakhaven, a small, forgotten village nestled deep in a valley. His days were filled with grueling labor, and his nights with scant meals and irregular sleep. He was largely ignorant of the world beyond Oakhaven, his knowledge limited to the rhythm of the seasons, the price of grain, and the local gossip that circulated through the village. He was not exactly unhappy, but he lived a life of quiet desperation, a constant struggle against the gnawing emptiness of poverty and limited horizons. One day, while digging a new irrigation canal, Silas hit something hard. At first, he thought it was just another stone, but as he cleared the ground, a golden glow caught his eye. It was a chest overflowing with ancient coins, jewelry, and artifacts—a treasure trove of unimaginable value. Silas, the humble farmer, became rich instantly. He did not know how the treasure had gotten there, nor did he care. He carried the chest back to his dilapidated house, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. This was it, he thought. The chest was his escape from the hard work he had always known. Silas quickly traded his newfound wealth for a life of luxury. Fine silks replaced his worn-out clothes, and glittering rings adorned his calloused hands. He built a magnificent mansion on the outskirts of Oakhaven, overlooking the fields he had once toiled in. He hired servants to cater to his every whim and filled his days with lavish parties and extravagant entertainment. The villagers of Oakhaven were at first amazed by Silas’s transformation. They admired his newfound opulence, whispering tales of his excellent fortune. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, their admiration began to wane. You see, Silas was changing. The poverty he had known had given him a certain humility, a sense of shared hardship that connected him to his fellow villagers. But with wealth came arrogance, a sense of superiority that separated him from those he had once considered his equals. He began to look down on the people of Oakhaven, whose simple lives now seemed crude and insignificant to him. He often boasted of his wealth, reminding them of his humble beginnings, but in a condescending tone. “You won’t understand,” he would say with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You have never known better things in life.” He forgot the hunger he had once known, the aching muscles, and the constant worry about feeding his family. He forgot the camaraderie of the fields, the shared laughter, and the unspoken understanding between those who worked side by side. Silas isolated himself in his luxurious mansion. His former friends, alienated by his arrogance, stopped visiting him. His servants, though obedient, were driven by duty, not love. Wealth surrounded him, yet he felt completely alone. He also became reckless with his money. He squandered fortunes gambling, invested in dubious schemes, and indulged in every conceivable excess. He surrounded himself with sycophants who flattered his ego and encouraged his extravagant spending. Blinded by his newfound power and wealth, he failed to see the trap he was falling into. One day the inevitable happened. A series of fraudulent investments and unscrupulous associates left Silas penniless. They took his estate, dismissed his servants, and sold his fine clothes to pay off his debts. He was left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the bitter taste of regret. Silas, stripped of his wealth, returned to the old house, a humble and broken man. But the villagers, remembering his arrogance and contempt, showed him no sympathy. The villagers shunned and ostracized him, leaving him on his own. He wandered the fields he once owned, now overgrown and neglected. Every door turned him away as he begged for food. He was forced to face the consequences of his actions, the price of his forgetfulness. In the end, Silas died as he had lived—poor and forgotten. But this time he also carried the weight of regret, the knowledge that he had squandered his fortune and alienated those who once cared for him. The Moral of the Story. Silas’s story serves as a concrete example of the dangers of sudden and undeserved advantage. It illustrates how wealth, power, or even knowledge, without the accompanying wisdom and humility, can corrupt and ultimately destroy a person. The proverb, “God forbid that the blind man should see!” is not a statement against progress or improvement. It is a warning. It is a reminder that true transformation requires more than just a change in circumstances. It requires a change in character, a deepening of empathy, and a commitment to remembering one’s roots. It is about recognizing the responsibility that comes with new opportunities. It is about using our good fortune to lift others up, not to rise above them. It is about staying grounded, humble, and grateful, even when the world tells us we deserve to be different. And remember, true wealth lies not in what we have, but in what we become. Ultimately, the danger doesn't stem from blindness but rather from the arrogance that can accompany the sudden attainment of sight. It is this forgetfulness, this lack of empathy, that makes the newly sighted dangerous to themselves and to others.

Words that are never forgotten

Every nation preserves its wisdom, passed down from generation to generation. Deep truths about human nature often lie behind seemingly simple plots, remaining relevant regardless of the era. One such story is about gratitude, about bad wounds that heal, and about negative words that remain unforgettable. Can the lesson about the power of words find its place among startups, social networks, and global connectivity? Let's try to tell it again. In one of the most competitive industries—that of high technology—the young and ambitious Leo was struggling to save his startup, "Nexus AI," from certain bankruptcy. His project, an innovative artificial intelligence platform, was mired in patent litigation and facing a financial crisis that threatened to swallow it up. Just when his hopes were running out, Victor appeared on the scene—a legend in the tech world, known for his uncompromising nature and survival instinct. Victor was not just an investor but a titan whose company, Global Vision, had saved dozens of other businesses. He saw potential in Leo and his AI project. Putting aside his own ongoing projects, Victor stepped in, resolved legal cases, injected fresh capital, and created opportunities that Leo had never imagined. Victor saved Nexus AI and launched it into action. Victor, impressed by Leo’s vision, proposed a partnership, a kind of “twinning” in the corporate world. Leo agreed—how could he refuse such a force? Out of gratitude, Victor invited him to an exclusive dinner with leading business magnates, presenting him as “the next big thing.” During the evening, after having a few glasses of champagne and feeling confident, Leo leaned towards Victor, who was getting ready to hug him in approval. — Victor, everything is great, but… The presentation you gave a while ago about the history of technology was, to be honest, quite outdated. It had an odor reminiscent of mothballs from the previous century! Leo said with a slight smile, intended to sound like a good-natured joke, but instead it sounded like tactless criticism. Victor's gaze froze. He leaned down and quietly said, "Leo, now go to the microphone and tell everyone that you made a terrible mistake and that your startup is nothing without the advice of 'veterans.'" — What are you talking about, Victor! How can I say it? We are partners! Leo was scared. — Say it, or I’ll destroy everything you’ve built!— Victor's voice echoed loudly. Frightened, Leo did this: he apologized publicly, admitted that he had shown “youthful impudence,” and gave all the credit for his success to the “experience of giants.” The evening ended, and the atmosphere between them was tense. Victor turned his back on him and left. Years passed. Nexus AI became a global corporation, and Leo became a billionaire. One day, at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Leo ran into Victor again. — Nice meeting, partner! — Victor rejoiced, apparently without a trace of his former enraged words. Leo was worried at first, but when he saw that there was no trace of his public humiliation in Victor's eyes and his reputation was impeccable, he hugged his old acquaintance and asked, —How are you, Victor? Have you gotten over the unpleasant taste of my words that I gave you back then at that dinner? I publicly expressed my contrition. Victor looked at him sadly and replied, —Listen to what I'm going to tell you, Leo. Failure in a project, public humiliation, or even a financial setback can resemble a severe injury. It may hurt, it may leave a scar for a while, but eventually it heals. The market forgets, the stock bounces back, and the reputation rebuilds. But a bad word, a lightly spoken rebuke, or a tactless criticism, especially when it comes from someone you've shaken hands with—it is not forgotten. It leaves a scar not on the skin, but on trust and respect. The wisdom of the fairy tale in the age of digital echo is instructive. In a world where digital airwaves capture, share, and preserve every word forever, the significance of "bad words" intensifies: A thoughtless message, a malicious tweet, or a tactless comment on social media can have a far more lasting effect than a physical injury. While a physical injury may heal, a screenshot of your hurtful words can remain viral for years. Just as Leo’s words inflicted an emotional “wound” on Victor, so today, in the era of “cancel culture” and constant public scrutiny, a hasty judgment can destroy partnerships, friendships, and careers in a way that even serious financial losses could not. The story reminds us of the need for empathy and careful word choice, especially when communicating with people who have supported us or on whom we rely. Even “well-intentioned” criticism can be perceived as a “bad word” if delivered tactlessly or in public. Whether it's a lumberjack and a bear in an old forest or an entrepreneur and a tech mogul in a digital jungle, the basic truth remains unshakable: physical scars heal, but the wounds inflicted by words remain deep in the mind and heart, reminding us of the eternal power of words.

The only problem is the way people think

You may scratch your head, nod, or argue with your screen over this quote from my first book. Whew. Take a breath. That's quite a bold assertion, isn't it? It suggests that all the drama, all the misunderstandings, all the clashes we experience in life aren’t primarily about external events, or a lack of resources, or even just 'bad people.' Instead, it puts the spotlight squarely on our internal operating system—how our minds work, how we process information, how we form opinions, and ultimately, how we decide what's "right" or "wrong." If this quote is accurate, we should consider introspection before blaming others. When the quote says "thinking itself is a problem," it's not suggesting that intelligence is bad or that having thoughts is inherently flawed. This is far from the case. It shows our thinking's nature: our biases, the filters we use to see the world, our assumptions, and the subjective lens through which we each experience reality. We often see our thoughts as objective truth, as plain common sense. But what if that "common sense" is anything but common, completely unique to our own mental landscape? Think about it. We’re all walking around with our personal hard drives, loaded with different software, different operating systems, and vastly different data accumulated over a lifetime. Your brain isn't just about processing facts; it's about interpreting them, assigning meaning, filtering out certain details, and highlighting others, all based on a complex algorithm of past experiences, emotions, values, and beliefs. The "problem" emerges when these unique internal worlds clash.  Let’s start with an arena where differing thoughts are on full, often painful, display: the world of politics. Politicians come from a variety of backgrounds, correct? Take economic policy, for instance. One might genuinely believe that slashing taxes for corporations and the wealthy will stimulate the economy, leading to job creation and prosperity for all. They might have studies, historical precedents, and a whole philosophy built around this idea. Their thinking is rooted in a belief that incentives for the rich trickle down. Conversely, another politician may sincerely hold the belief that investing in social programs and public infrastructure and establishing a robust safety net for the less fortunate is the genuine route to achieving widespread prosperity. They might argue that putting money directly into the hands of the working class boosts demand and that a healthy, educated populace is the bedrock of a strong economy. Their perspective stems from the conviction that growth originates from the grassroots, not the top-down approach. Both arguably want a better country for their constituents. Both are probably intelligent, well-meaning individuals (at least, we hope!). What leads to the persistent gridlock, intense disagreements, and challenges in reaching common ground? It’s not necessarily that one is evil and the other good. This often occurs because their fundamental thinking, which includes core assumptions about human nature, economics, fairness, and the role of government, is diametrically opposed. They view the same societal problems from completely different perspectives, convinced that theirs is the only logical one. Their "thinking itself" becomes the problem, leading to an impasse where progress stalls. Now, let's apply the quote to our personal lives, where it truly resonates. Think about a disagreement you've had with a friend, someone you genuinely like and respect. It could be something as mundane as planning a vacation or as significant as a disagreement over a life choice. Imagine you're planning a weekend trip with a friend. You, in your infinite wisdom, believe the best way to travel is to book everything well in advance, have a detailed itinerary, and stick to it. You enjoy the security and predictability this brings. You think, "Why would anyone want to just wing it? It's a risky approach! Your friend, however, lives for spontaneity. Their ideal trip entails choosing a direction, exploring the journey, and making spontaneous decisions. They think, "Planning everything takes all the fun out of it! Where's the adventure?" Neither of you is wrong. Both ways of thinking about travel are perfectly valid. However, because your individual perspectives on what constitutes a good trip differ so greatly, you may become frustrated with each other and might even accuse one another of being "rigid" or "irresponsible." Your friend might feel constrained by your planning, while you might feel anxious about their lack of foresight. The external event (the trip) isn’t the problem; it’s the clash of your internal processing mechanisms—your unique "thought patterns"—that creates the tension.

Why We Don't See Eye-to-Eye

This incident brings us to a crucial point: "One sees through his own eyes and the others with their eyes." We often forget this simple truth. We perceive the world not as it is, but as we are. It's like everyone is wearing a different pair of bespoke sunglasses, each tinted with unique colors, filters, and prescriptions based on their life journey. Consider a simple event: two colleagues witness a heated exchange between their boss and another team member. Person A, who grew up in a strict household where any display of anger was considered unacceptable, might interpret the boss's tone as aggressive and unprofessional, concluding the boss is a bully. Person B, who grew up in a more boisterous environment where lively debates were common, might see the same exchange as merely passionate and direct, concluding the boss is just a strong leader who gets things done. The "event" is the same, but their internal interpretations, their "thinkings," lead to vastly different conclusions and feelings about the situation. This issue isn't about malicious intent; it's about the inherent subjectivity of human perception. We filter information through our existing beliefs, memories, emotions, and even our current mood. Our brains are constantly creating a coherent narrative, and sometimes, to maintain that coherence, they'll even bend reality a little to fit our preferred storyline. During this process, cognitive biases such as confirmation bias, which involves seeking out information that validates our pre-existing beliefs, become active, thereby reinforcing our own unique perspective and making it more challenging to perceive the world from another's perspective. So, if our thinking is the problem, where does this "thinking" come from? Are the reasons for these different views rooted solely in upbringing? Yes, that's a big part of it, but it's also more complicated than just your childhood. Upbringing: Your upbringing is foundational. The values instilled by your parents, the rules of your household, the way emotions were expressed (or suppressed), the type of education you received, and even the stories you were told—all of these shape your initial mental frameworks. If your upbringing taught you that asking for help is a sign of weakness, your thinking would likely lean toward self-reliance. Your perspective will put the welfare of the group first if you were taught that community support is essential. Culture and Society: Beyond your immediate family, the broader cultural context you grew up in profoundly influences your worldview. National identity, regional customs, religious beliefs, and societal norms around gender roles, success, and failure—these are deeply ingrained and shape how you interpret the world, often subconsciously. What's considered polite in one culture might be rude in another; what's considered an admirable trait here might be a flaw elsewhere. Personal Experiences: Life isn't just about what you're taught; it's about what you live through. Traumatic events, significant achievements, personal relationships (both good and bad), moments of profound insight, travel, and career paths—every single experience adds another layer to your internal operating system. Someone who experienced poverty might have a completely different perspective on money and social services than someone who has always been financially secure. Someone who was betrayed might be more guarded than someone who has always found people trustworthy. Information Diet: In the digital age, what we consume online and through media plays a massive role. The news sources we follow, the social media bubbles we inhabit, and the voices we choose to listen to—all of these feed our "thinking" and can reinforce existing biases, creating echo chambers that make it even harder to understand alternative viewpoints. Innate Temperament and Genetics: Even our basic temperament (e.g., introversion/extroversion, risk aversion, emotional sensitivity) might have a genetic component, influencing how we perceive and react to the world, further contributing to our unique "thinking." It's a complex fabric, intricately woven with numerous threads. Each element contributes to the unique way our brains build their models of reality, making it incredibly difficult to simply "agree to disagree" when our foundational thinking about a topic is so fundamentally divergent. While the quote "The only problem is the way people think" is wonderfully provocative, it's worth noting that diverse thinking isn't only a problem. In fact, it's also the wellspring of innovation, creativity, and progress. Imagine a world where everyone thought exactly alike—it would be stagnant, boring, and utterly devoid of new ideas. The clash of different perspectives can spark breakthroughs, challenge stale assumptions, and lead to more robust solutions. The "problem," then, isn't the existence of different ways of thinking but rather our inability to navigate those differences constructively. It's when our unique thinking becomes rigid, when we refuse to acknowledge the validity of other perspectives, and when we cease to be curious about why someone thinks differently that "thinking itself" becomes a genuine roadblock to understanding and harmony. So, what’s the takeaway? If our thinking is indeed the root of many problems, the solution lies not in trying to make everyone think alike (an impossible and undesirable goal) but in cultivating qualities that allow us to bridge the gaps between our internal worlds: We must comprehend our own prejudices, presumptions, and emotional stimulants. We should actively strive to put ourselves in the shoes of others and perceive the world through their distinct perspective, even for a brief moment. Instead of immediately dismissing a differing view, ask, "Why do they think that way?" "What experiences led them to this conclusion?" It's important to acknowledge that our perception of reality is not always accurate. It's crucial to develop the ability to express our ideas clearly and, above all, to actively and candidly listen to others. The quote from “Manners in the Great Kingdom” challenges us to look beyond external circumstances and study the complex, often confusing, inner workings of our own and others’ minds. It suggests that if we want to build a more understanding and cooperative world, the journey begins not with fixing “them” or “him,” but with recognizing and navigating the fascinating, complex, and sometimes problematic landscape of “how we think.”

A Modern Fable of Friendship and Finding Your Own Feast

We all know the story: a wide-eyed country mouse visits their city slicker friend, only to find the allure of fancy food overshadowed by the constant threat of danger. It's a classic tale about appreciating what you have and knowing yourself. But what if we updated this fable for the 21st century, swapping mice for humans and trading fields for WiFi?  Imagine Maya, a talented artist living a peaceful life in a small, rural town. Surrounded by rolling hills, crisp air, and a close-knit community, she finds inspiration in the simplicity of her surroundings. Her days are filled with painting landscapes, selling her art at local markets, and enjoying potlucks with her neighbors. Life isn't extravagant, but it's fulfilling. Then there's Chloe, Maya’s childhood best friend, who traded the countryside for the bright lights of the city. Chloe’s a successful tech entrepreneur, living in a sleek apartment overlooking the city skyline. She’s got the gadgets, the clothes, and the social calendar to prove she's made it. One day, Chloe calls Maya, her voice buzzing with excitement. "You absolutely have to come visit! Life here is amazing! Think rooftop parties, Michelin-star restaurants, and networking events with the coolest people. I'll treat you to everything!" Maya, feeling a little stuck in her routine and intrigued by Chloe's glamorous descriptions, accepts the invitation. She packs her bags, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling within her. The city is a sensory overload. The sheer volume of people, the constant hum of traffic, and the towering buildings leave Maya feeling disoriented. Chloe, ever the gracious host, whisks her away to a trendy restaurant, where they're presented with a menu full of dishes with names Maya can barely pronounce. "Try this truffle risotto," Chloe urges, "It's divine!" Maya takes a bite. It's rich, creamy, and undeniably delicious. But as she savors the flavor, a nagging feeling of unease begins to creep in. The restaurant is packed, the noise level is deafening, and the constant stream of waiters buzzing around makes her feel on edge. Over the next few days, Chloe puts on her best show. They attend a gallery opening that showcases avant-garde art, leaving Maya perplexed. They attend a concert where the music is so loud that it pierces Maya's bones. They also attend a networking event where Maya experiences a profound sense of alienation, surrounded by individuals conversing in a language of venture capital and start-up jargon. Chloe, caught up in the whirlwind of her city life, doesn't notice Maya's growing discomfort. She's constantly checking her phone, juggling calls, and making plans for the next big thing. While Chloe is offering Maya a taste of the "good life," she's also inadvertently exposing the underlying anxieties of a fast-paced urban existence. One evening, as they're enjoying (or rather, enduring) a fancy cocktail party, a prominent investor starts grilling Chloe about her company's performance. The pressure is palpable, and Maya watches as Chloe’s smile tightens and her usual confident demeanor falters. Just then, a rumor starts circulating about a potential scandal involving a rival company, sending a ripple of panic through the room. "Oh my god, this is insane," Maya whispers to Chloe. "Is it always like this?" Chloe sighs, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through her carefully constructed facade. “It’s…intense. You have to constantly be ‘on,’ always hustling, always networking. One wrong move and everything could fall apart.” That night, lying in the guest room of Chloe’s ultra-modern apartment, Maya can’t sleep. The city noise is a constant drone, a stark contrast to the quiet serenity she's used to. She thinks about the investor's probing questions, the hushed whispers about scandal, and Chloe's weary expression. She realizes that the "cornucopia" of city life comes with a heavy price: constant pressure, relentless competition, and a pervasive sense of insecurity. The next morning, as Chloe rushes off to a meeting, Maya makes a decision. She calls Chloe later that day. “Chloe, I really appreciate you showing me around,” Maya says, her voice sincere. “But I think I need to head back home.” Chloe sounds surprised. “But…I thought you were having a good time! We haven’t even been to all the cool spots yet!” “I was,” Maya replies, “but I realized something. This life…it’s not for me. I miss the quiet, the open spaces, and the feeling of knowing everyone in town. I miss my art studio and the smell of fresh paint. I miss the peace.” Chloe is silent for a moment. Then, she says softly, "I understand. It's not for everyone. Sometimes I wonder if it's even for me." Maya smiles. "Don't get me wrong, the truffle risotto was amazing! But I think I prefer my homemade apple pie and the company of my neighbors. The city is your feast, Chloe, but the countryside is mine.” They promise to stay in touch, and Maya heads back to her small town, a sense of profound relief washing over her. Back in her cozy art studio, surrounded by her paintings and the familiar scent of linseed oil, she feels a deep sense of contentment. The Illusion of the “Good Life”: What appears glamorous and desirable on the outside may be filled with hidden tensions and anxieties. While the big city presents opportunities and excitement, it also necessitates relentless competition and a constant drive to excel and fully embrace life. Such an environment can be stressful for many people. If you know yourself, you can always make a choice. Understanding that finding a life aligned with your values brings true happiness, rather than pursuing external recognition or material possessions, is crucial. I am confident that living in accordance with your values will bring you true joy.