True Wealth: Turning Disaster Into Blessing

Good news. The number of wealthy people around the world has increased, reaching three thousand billionaires as of March 2025. The United States leads with nine hundred and two billionaires, most of them concentrated in the information technology sector. China and India follow with five hundred and twelve and two hundred and five billionaires.

Economists and financial experts welcome this development. The rise of wealthy individuals in several countries signals that the global economy is recovering compared to the COVID era of 2020. These billionaires are people who worked relentlessly throughout their lives, distributing their assets across stocks and bonds, and now finally enjoying the results of years of effort.

Yes, being rich is undeniably comfortable. Plenty of money, luxury goods, big houses, fancy cars, overseas vacations. What their lives looked like before they became super wealthy, how hard they worked, and what they sacrificed to reach the peak of their careers is something we can never know for sure. It is like a mountain that looks stunning from afar but appears very different when seen up close.

Beyond the steep cliffs and rocky terrain, the true face of a mountain is far from smooth or as pretty as the photos of Instagrammable tourist spots. Believe it or not, the most valuable part of a mountain is its forests and natural vegetation. Aside from the pride of reaching the summit, there is almost nothing that keeps us lingering there.

Illustration: private collection

Honoring nature is not infidel

Sadly, urban civilization often finds itself treating trees as a threat. Incidents of fallen trees causing casualties and damage happen everywhere. Bad weather, storms, or heavy rain can turn a once trusted protector into a danger when its large trunk collapses and destroys vehicles, buildings, or homes.

Armenian Folk Beliefs regard trees as sacred, (as sacred as springs of water in Hindu). Followers of this belief mark certain trees with strips of cloth to signal their presence to others. As more people tie cloth to a tree, it discourages outsiders from cutting it down.

From a monotheistic theological perspective, this practice is considered misguided because it elevates worldly objects, like trees, to the same level as the Creator. Trees can fall, and none of them defend themselves or demonstrate divine power when humans slash through forests like orcs.

This became evident when Armenia faced social and economic collapse after the dissolution of the Soviet Union in late 1991. Without the cheap gas they once depended on, Armenians burned their furniture to stay warm during harsh winters. When all their furniture was gone, they turned to the forests and began cutting down trees for firewood.

The consequences were predictable. The aftermath of deforestation is the same everywhere in the world. Floods and landslides followed the loss of sacred forests. Countless lives and property were lost, leaving deep and lasting sorrow.

Regret is not enough

Although the country is still relatively young, Armenians quickly realized the mistakes of the past. Reforestation efforts are now widespread in this CSTO member state, carried out by NGOs and diaspora communities educated abroad. Armenians have come to appreciate the wisdom in their ancestors’ teachings about honoring the wilderness.

Restoring the forest is not only seen as environmental conservation. It is also an effort to preserve Armenian cultural heritage as the soul of the nation and the bridge between past, present, and future. For them, restoring forests is not about chasing profit from the tourism industry. Restoring forests means restoring sacred natural sites to rebuild spirituality and reconnect with nature. That is what matters.

Although deforestation and its impacts have not been completely eliminated, the awareness of sacred places is a meaningful step forward. None of this would be possible if Armenians remained trapped in endless regret over past mistakes. (dswas).

Why Gratitude Isn’t Always Simple

Some analysts think the war in Ukraine is heading into its last moments. The United States, one of Ukraine’s biggest donors, has already handed President Volodymyr Zelensky a peace proposal. People who follow politics closely say parts of it lean in Russia’s favor. Donald Trump even told Zelensky to accept the deal or risk losing American support.

From January 2022, about a month before the invasion, to mid 2025, the European Union sent around 167 billion euros in aid to Ukraine. The US sent about 115.4 billion euros in the same period. A good chunk of that isn’t cash but military equipment and financial support. US auditors say the country has allocated around 175 billion dollars to Ukraine, including funds to support US military personnel stationed there.

Even with all that, no one seems completely sure how much money actually reached Ukraine. Corruption scandals around Zelensky’s inner circle have only added to the confusion. Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian refugees in Europe and the US are rumored to be heading home, as host countries struggle with their own economic problems and cut back on support.

A little history behind “thank you”

In Russian, спасибо (spasibo) is “thank you.” The word actually comes from an older phrase, spasi bog, which means “may the gods save you.” Spasi means “to save,” and bog means “gods.” The phrase started as part of a prayer from the Native Slavic belief system before it became something people said every day.

Illustration: private collection

The idea behind spasibog is simple. When someone gives you something that helps you or brings joy, you wish something good for them in return. Over time the expression shifted from a prayer to a polite phrase, but the deeper message stayed the same.

In Slavic culture, gratitude isn’t meant to stop at words. You show it through action, including gratitude toward nature and ancestors. One tradition still practiced today is pouring a little beer or vodka before drinking, almost like sharing it with the ancestors. It reminds me of my Balinese friends (most of them were Hindus) in college who did something very similar. Their habit spread fast among our non-Hindu friends because the meaning behind it was beautiful.

Saying thanks in a world like this

Now we’re in a situation where many Ukrainian refugees might be sent home even though they’re not sure what kind of safety or stability waits for them. Before the war, Ukraine already had social assistance programs, though far from perfect by European standards.

Imagine if all the humanitarian aid the government received were used as social support. Life in Ukraine might be much better than it is now. If Russia had never invaded, Ukraine might never have received billions in aid to begin with. It’s strange to think about, but sometimes disaster really does bring unexpected blessings.

Ancient people knew this. They took time to show gratitude because they understood how many forces shape what we receive in life. Modern society doesn’t like this idea because it sounds old fashioned or too full of rules. But ignoring the bigger picture makes it easy to forget one simple truth: money behaves like easy come easy go. What arrives quickly can disappear just as fast. When things feel easy, people forget to plan, manage, and think long term, which is the whole point of aid in the first place. (dswas)

Waiting for a Tree to Grow Over the Remains of the Past

Oleg Salenko was not widely known among football fans until he received the Golden Boot at the 1994 World Cup. When the United States hosted the tournament for the first time, two players from Eastern Europe took home FIFA’s top scorer award. Alongside Salenko was Hristo Stoichkov of Bulgaria. Both scored six goals for their national teams throughout the competition.

Born to a Ukrainian father and a Russian mother, Salenko began his international journey with the Soviet Union U-20 team in 1989. He played in the U-20 World Cup and became the tournament’s top scorer with five goals. Until last year, he remained the only footballer to be top scorer in both junior and senior World Cups. He is also the only Golden Boot winner whose national team failed to pass the group stage.

Salenko appeared in only nine international matches. Eight of them were with Russia in the World Cup, including the iconic Russia vs Cameroon match where he scored five goals in a single game, helping Russia win 6–1. His previous appearance was a friendly for Ukraine against Hungary in 1992, where Ukraine lost 1–3 in its first FIFA-recognized match. Injuries forced Salenko into early retirement at the age of 31.

Roots Pulled Apart

Why did Salenko leave Ukraine to join the Sbornaya, the Russian national team? Much like naturalized players today, Salenko could join either country because he held dual citizenship through his parents. At the time, Russia offered stronger football infrastructure than most post-Soviet countries, including Ukraine. From a career perspective, choosing Russia felt like the path with greater promise.

Long before football infrastructure gaps emerged among former communist states in the late 1990s, Russia, Ukraine, and other Slavic nations like Bulgaria, Serbia, Macedonia, and the Czech Republic shared one cultural root. Their ancestors lived in plains, forests, and wetlands. They were farmers and herders who spent much of their time outdoors. Their lifestyle shaped strong physical resilience passed down through generations. 

Illustration: private collection

That strength made early Slavs unafraid of conflicts that often ended in bloodshed. Their mythology reflects this outlook. Many Slavic tales describe shrubs and wildflowers growing from the blood or bodies of those who died for their beliefs, whether personal principles or collective interests.

Serbian folklore says white peonies turned red from the blood of Serbian soldiers who fell in the Battle of Kosovo. Black peonies grew from the blood of Roma soldiers, while blue peonies came from the blood of fighters of Turkish descent. Bulgarian myths say that lilacs grew from the blood of warriors, which is why the flower is often found near old fortresses or open fields where major battles once took place.

Russian belief holds that fireweed grows from the blood of victims of wrongdoing. A Kuban Cossack legend tells of roses growing from the blood of a young woman who took her own life after being forcibly separated from her lover.

A Past Buried, Then Growing Again

If the blood or body of someone who has died represents something lost and gone forever, then the past is the closest comparison. Everyone has a past. So do ethnic groups, nations, and entire states.

The Slavic ancestors viewed what is gone and will not return as something “beautiful,” like colorful flowers. Our past often feels like that. Beautiful to retell, yet carrying a quiet ache each time the story is remembered. In many stories, loss remains inevitable even when the people in those stories try to preserve what they cherish.

Traditional values, local wisdom, and customs are often dismissed as symbols of a bygone era. People say they should be abandoned because they do not belong in modern life and do not advance human civilization.

But through the context of Slavic ancestors, the past may never return, yet something will always grow from what has decayed. What grows is not only small shrubs or wildflowers but also a tree. One tree can be followed by two, three, ten, or a hundred, depending on how many “remains of the past” lie buried beneath the battleground of civilization. (dswas)

Why Consistency Always Wins

There’s a small proverb whispered across the mountains of the Balkans—simple, almost fragile, yet stubbornly alive through centuries:

“Drop by drop, the stone is pierced.”

(Kap po kap — kamen prodire.)

It was born not in a classroom, nor in a king’s court, but in the quiet, patient eyes of South Slavic indigenous communities—especially the Serbs—who spent their lives watching nature unfold. They understood something most of us forget: that the tiniest things, repeated long enough, can carve their mark into the world.

For them, a drop of water is never just water. It’s a symbol of persistence, a reminder that great change often begins with something small, gentle, and almost invisible. A single drop will only dampen a rock. But after days, months, years—no one can really say when—the stone gives way.

And that tiny hollow in the rock becomes a lesson passed down from grandparents to children, from everyday conversations to comforting a friend whose life feels stuck. Consistency isn't glamorous, but it works. 

Illustration: private collection

The Sacred Power of Water

In the old Indigenous Slavic faith, water is more than a physical element—it is Mokosh, the sacred feminine force of life and movement. Springs and wells were once holy sites because the water they carried embodied purity, patience, and steadfastness.

To the South Slavs, the world was a rhythm. Nature spoke in cycles. Nothing rushed, nothing forced. Progress came the way mountains rose or forests grew: slowly, silently, inevitably.

Their ancestors lived in rugged lands, surrounded by peaks and rivers. Yet even after communism, internal Balkan conflicts, and the NATO bombings that flattened Serbia, the proverb survived. Their wisdom endured where politics did not.

Because some truths are too old—and too honest—to die. 

Meanwhile, in the Lands of the “Angels”

But the story of patience becomes more interesting when we turn our eyes to the nations that once united to punish Serbia during the Balkan wars. Wrapped in the language of “protecting democracy” and “stopping war crimes,” NATO countries stepped onto the stage as heroic angels fighting the “demons” of communism.

These nations—America, Britain, France, Germany, Canada, and many others—grew into rich, powerful democracies. Some even landed on the list of the world’s happiest countries year after year.

But prosperity is not a straight line.

Economies ripple into each other. One country’s rise fuels another’s decline. And the United States, the financial engine behind the Yugoslavia campaign (and many others), eventually found itself running on fumes.

The money ran out.

And when great powers run out of money, they make phone calls.

Recently, the U.S. received massive financial injections from Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates—deals wrapped in diplomatic phrases like “bilateral cooperation,” though everyone knows the core truth:

“We need a loan.”

And when you need loans, you pay with obedience.

So what was the war for?

To create peace?

To project power?

Or simply to continue borrowing?

How to Face a Power That Confuses and Frightens

Economists love to say debt is normal—part of growth, part of development, part of the modern world. But perhaps this belief is humanity’s greatest collective illusion.

Real prosperity follows the laws of nature. It takes time. It requires rhythm. It demands patience—just like the drops that carve the stone.

Today, we celebrate shortcuts. We worship speed. We call it progress.

Yet the world feels increasingly unstable: collapsing environments, political friction, mental exhaustion, economic panic.

Investors and loans bring money fast. But fast money comes with strings—strings that tighten over time. Countries borrow. Then they must obey. Governments feel the pressure. Policies become erratic. People feel lost.

But ordinary people have one advantage: they can choose how to make sense of the chaos. They can decide which stories to embrace.

In the Balkans, many return to the old teachings. They look to the ancestors who saw the world clearly—who understood that confusion, fear, and pressure are all part of nature’s cycles.

And so, when life feels overwhelming, they remember:

A single drop can carve a mountain—if it just keeps falling.  (dswas)

Hunting Old Recipe For Happiness

Europe, the continent the world calls the happiest, is feeling restless. Not because its economies are faltering, but because more and more people from Asia, Africa, and other corners of Europe are arriving at its borders. They come with hope. They come with fear. They come looking for a life that feels safer than the one they left behind. And since the top spots on the global happiness list almost always belong to Europe, it is hard to blame anyone for trying their luck. Happiness attracts. It always has.

For centuries, Europe built wealth through industry and agriculture. The kind of wealth sturdy enough to survive the rise and fall of generations. Add to that a culture of planning ahead, careful accounting, and governments that cushion daily life with social benefits, and you get a region where money moves, security feels possible, and opportunity looks real. This is the picture that calls people from far away.

But not everyone finds the gleam they imagined. Some newcomers carry their old worlds with them, along with the ache of missing home. They cling to familiar habits, even when those habits confuse the locals. And between these two groups, tension grows in small, invisible ways.

As the number of newcomers rises, many Europeans have started looking inward, searching for something that feels like their own anchor. Some say that the countries of Europe have begun to blend into one another, leaving people unsure of where their identity truly sits. And when identity wavers, people look back. They look to the past. 

Illustration: Slavic Native Faith's symbol, kolovrat

The Most Beautiful “Palace”

In Russia, President Vladimir Putin often praises his nation’s loyalty to traditional values. In many ways, he is right. Around a million people still practice traditional belief systems that honor ancestors not as distant shadows, but as part of the living world. For them, the natural world is alive with meaning. Every stone, every tree, every sudden change in the wind carries a presence.

The rituals and ceremonies of the Slavic Native Faith are ways of saying thank you to those who lived long before the modern world took shape. These early people found the land, learned its patterns, figured out how to survive and build homes that could endure. According to research dating back to Stalin’s era, this belief system shares ancient roots with Hindu traditions, hinting at a past more connected than we usually imagine.

Today, this belief unites communities across Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Belarus, Bulgaria, the Czech Republic, Lithuania, and Estonia. They share the conviction that family is the first place where happiness takes shape. And from that belief flows another: treat others the way you would treat family, and the world becomes a little lighter.

The Weight of Misperception

Among Europe’s many ethnic groups, Slavs have carried a stubborn stigma. Their history with communism and socialism is often used as shorthand for danger or backwardness. While Western Europe shines with wealth and stability, Eastern and Central Europe are too often painted with duller colors: unsafe, untrustworthy, full of troublemakers.

But comfort is fragile. It can vanish without warning. And sometimes discomfort grows not from reality, but from how long we have stayed inside our comfort zone, unprepared for change.

As traditional European belief systems reemerge, including Slavic Native Faith, some observers respond with fear. They point to rising identity, rising pride, and quickly connect it to racism or right-wing extremism. The word “Slavic” becomes a spark that lights their suspicion.

What many of them miss is that these belief systems begin with humility. Slavic people have long recognized that the past cannot be rewritten. Someone was here before them. Something shaped their land, their luck, their language. They do not pretend to know every detail. They accept that much will remain a mystery.

So why do observers care more about the origins of Slavic Native Faith than about the intentions of the people who practice it? Only they know the answer. (dswas)

Why Too Much Can Leave You With Nothing

Brazil’s 2–3 loss to Japan in a friendly match in Tokyo last October shocked football fans everywhere. Japan has been improving lately, sure—but Brazil is a five-time World Cup champion. The defeat only deepened the slump that has followed the Samba squad since their humiliating loss to Germany on home soil in the 2014 World Cup final.

Fans were quick to link Brazil’s decline to the behavior of its football stars, who are known for partying hard whenever they hit peak performance. Neymar Jr., who made the list of the world’s top 10 richest athletes while still a teenager, was reported to have attended around 120 parties during his years in Europe with Barcelona and Paris Saint-Germain. On top of that, he has a weakness for junk food—something no serious athlete should be touching.

And long before Neymar, there was Romario. The Brazilian superstar of the ’90s was also a party addict, especially after Brazil’s 1994 World Cup victory. Romario was the star of the tournament and won the Golden Ball as the best player. The euphoria carried him away—he failed to return to Barcelona, his club at the time, on schedule and skipped training. Johan Cruyff, the coach then, was furious and promptly sold him back to a Brazilian club (Flamengo) just months after his World Cup glory.

Exploring Abundance Without Limits

Besides being home to some of the best footballers on the planet, Brazil is also known for the Amazon rainforest—named the lungs of the Earth and responsible for producing 20% of the planet’s clean oxygen. The Amazon is unmatched in biodiversity, much of which still hasn’t been identified. The Amazon River, the longest in the world, sustains countless communities along its banks.

Even with its UNESCO World Heritage status, the Amazon hasn’t been immune to the ambitions of President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva. His administration has pushed to initiate oil exploration around the Amazon region. Although the government insists the drilling will occur outside the forest and avoid conservation zones, the decision stunned many. 

Illustration: pexels.com

The shock grew when the government openly stated that the exploration is meant to tap into the country’s natural wealth to generate revenue—revenue they say is needed to fund Brazil’s transition to green energy.

While Lula’s statement appears environmentally conscious, Indigenous communities of the Amazon have been protesting the plan from 2024 until now. These are people whose ancestors have lived in the Amazon for generations, protecting the world’s largest rainforest using wisdom passed down through time. UNESCO’s acknowledgment of the forest’s “sacredness” is, in a way, recognition of their work.

Contrast this with the United States. Even though President Donald Trump loudly dismissed climate change and green energy narratives as a scam, Native American communities have fared relatively better than Indigenous Amazonians.

For example, in June 2025, the U.S. government acknowledged that it had illegally sold Potawatomi tribal conservation land in the 1800s. After two centuries under federal control, the land was finally returned to the tribe’s current generation.

Preventing The Wealth From Vanishing Without a Trace

As of April 2025, Brazil’s state-owned oil giant Petrobras still leads global oil production, surpassing countries like the neighboring United States. So the obvious question is: where did all the money go? How is it that the trillions generated haven’t been enough to support Lula’s green energy transition?

It’s a fair question—especially when Lula claims that drilling near the Amazon is simply to boost national revenue.

Abundance can disappear without a trace if it isn’t managed properly. It’s not unlike Neymar Jr. and Romario, who squandered their talent for short bursts of pleasure. Compare that with the Indigenous communities of the Amazon who, for decades, have chosen to live far from the noise of modern life so they can protect the forest.

Happiness can turn into samsara when it blinds a person—or a nation—from caring for what their ancestors left behind. Abundance can make us lose our grounding, tempting us to chase pleasure for just a little longer. But when the source of that happiness dries up, panic sets in—and people do anything to get it back as fast as possible. (dswas)

Why Is “Light” So Expensive?

“Happy Diwali” suddenly became a trending topic in the U.S. last October—because, surprise surprise, the President did it again. This time, with an official White House celebration of the Hindu, Jain, and Sikh festival of lights (October 21). Several Indian expatriates holding high positions in Donald Trump’s administration showed up, including Kash Patel, the FBI Director and a loyal Republican.

During the event, Trump also sent Diwali greetings to India’s Prime Minister, Narendra Modi—the man he loves to call a “great leader,” “fantastic guy,” “dear friend,” and so on. The irony? Just months earlier, Trump had slapped a 50% tariff on Indian exports to the U.S.

According to Trump, India “deserved” the tariff hike for being the biggest importer of Russian oil in Asia. Naturally, Modi faced a storm of criticism back home. His so-called “productive diplomacy” with Washington earlier that year turned out to be a bust.

Ilustrasi: pexels.com

The diamond industry in Surat—a major employer in India—also took a hit when the West blocked imports of Russian rough diamonds. Add to that the blacklisting of several Indian tech firms by the EU and North America for maintaining ties with Russia, and… well, you get the picture.

So yes, it was a global eyebrow-raiser (mine included) when Diwali lights suddenly glittered in the White House.

Could this mean that Donald Trump has finally “found the light” (literally, Diwali means “festival of lights”)—the one that will guide him toward his “Make America Great Again” dream?

Diversity Doesn’t Always Pay Off

We live in an age where a person’s worth is measured by whatever shiny thing they can show off—titles, wealth, praise, appearance, or any other surface-level achievement. It’s hard to imagine our ancestors were this obsessed with looking “superior.” Because if they were, most nations today would probably share the same cut-and-paste culture—obediently following the rhythm of that one “enlightened” voice that always seems eager to decide what’s right for everyone else.

Hinduism, after all, is a flexible belief system—it adapts wherever it lands. There’s no single “headquarters” dictating when or how Hindus must celebrate their festivals. Every community knows which days matter most to them and why.

This freedom to differ, however, isn’t great news for those who want to make money off religion. You can’t cash in big when people don’t all shop, decorate, and splurge at the same time. And in this age, let’s be honest—everyone’s chasing cash flow.

Despite the bad press Hinduism sometimes gets, India remains one of the easiest nations to work with—across political divides. It maintains good ties with Israel and Palestine (yes, both), was among the first to recognize Indonesia’s independence, and has kept steady friendships with Russia and Ukraine since the Soviet era.

And, fun fact: India even has a cordial relationship with Afghanistan—the land of the “Hindu Kush” mountains, literally translated as “Hindu Killer.” Ironic much?

Turning Negatives Into Positives

Somehow, Trump became convinced that the 50% tariff had “worked” and pressured Modi into reducing oil purchases from Russia. He even praised Modi for his “change of heart” and hinted he might reconsider the tariffs. India, unsurprisingly, stayed quiet on the matter—though Russian media assured everyone that Indo-Russian relations were “just fine.”

Of course, the Diwali event at the White House drew both praise and protest. Many non-Hindu Americans (thanks to misinformation online) thought it was only a Hindu thing—and took the chance to start a social media “holy war.” The hate campaign even dragged in Vice President JD Vance and his wife Usha, who happen to be an interfaith couple.

Naturally, Trump’s critics might’ve been behind the drama—because, let’s face it, every world leader has haters who can spin outrage out of thin air. These folks don’t need much—just a headline, a hashtag, and a bit of Wi-Fi.

But not everyone lets the negativity stick. The whole “survival of the fittest” thing seems to fit Hindu communities pretty well—especially those living as minorities abroad. They’ve learned to take misunderstanding and prejudice and turn it into quiet resilience. (dswas)

The Fruit of Rebellion Against the Past

While most countries are still caught up in the AI fever, one of the great minds in that very industry has turned his gaze toward water as his next source of inspiration. Bill Gates recently announced that the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, the charity under his and his ex-wife’s names, is launching an initiative aimed at maximizing the use of water for hygiene and public health in various parts of the world.

The Microsoft boss also introduced a new technology called the Omniprocessor. While we’re busy analyzing the chip war between the United States and China, the world’s biggest chip consumer is instead focusing on creating a machine that turns sewage water into clean, drinkable water—while generating steam power to run the machine itself.

Ironically, in some regions drought is spreading as a result of natural phenomena like lower rainfall intensity and the conversion of water catchment areas into housing developments. That’s exactly what’s happening in my hometown—Singosari, Malang, Indonesia. The growing population, coupled with the shrinking of water absorption zones, has caused several natural springs to dry up and stop flowing altogether.

At first, I and many locals hoped that the city’s religious foundation and values would remind people to honor water as the source of life. But that didn’t happen.

The local culture—rooted in an ancestral veneration system that later merged with Hindu teachings—was branded as heretical. Marking trees and forests with incense and flowers to prevent them from being cut down was said to be not something religious people would do.

Vandalism = “Rebellion”

Meanwhile, thousands of miles from my small town, a historic site was forever altered by an act of vandalism committed by a group of environmental activists calling themselves Just Stop Oil. The incident happened a while ago but went viral again after Ian Miles Cheong brought it up on X.

His post highlighted a British court’s decision to acquit two Just Stop Oil activists of responsibility for their actions. They were initially tried for causing permanent damage to Stonehenge, a prehistoric site in Salisbury, Wiltshire, England. According to the court, the activists had the right to protest climate change—even through acts that provoke public outrage—because that was precisely the purpose of their action.

Illustration: getimage

Just like the ruins of Hindu temples in my hometown, Stonehenge is essentially a pile of stones. Yet there will always be people who find meaning in such piles of rocks—using them as a backdrop for selfies or as a spot to witness awe-inspiring natural phenomena like sunsets or solar eclipses.

The permanent damage to Stonehenge will prevent future generations from studying their ancestors more deeply—through the stones’ characteristics, for instance, or through research into how the megaliths were erected in the first place.

The fact that human remains—of both adults and children—were found at the same site could serve as a clue to events that took place there thousands, or even millions, of years ago. Those events might explain how the local people were shaped, and why.

However, the past of nearly every civilization carries dark pages that haunt the present from time to time. Some believe the fastest and easiest way to escape this samsara is to “rebel”: to destroy, deface, or disregard any form that symbolizes or represents the past.

This kind of “rebellion” has started to become the new normal, fueled by the growing sense that humanity has lost the freedom to enjoy happiness.

The people in my hometown don’t feel guilty for destroying natural springs, because they believe there’s still groundwater left (which, according to recent studies, is no longer safe for consumption due to pollution from nearby factories). To them, Hindu civilization represents a sinful past—a “dark” era that once drew strength from its environment, leaving behind only a handful of springs that still serve the people today. (dswas)

When Silence Really Was Golden

“Silence is golden” can literally be interpreted as “silence can produce gold.” It’s not an unreasonable interpretation, because in the 18th century, silence really did produce gold. Silence, when done with intent, was even seen as a way for the elite to enjoy their leisure at the time.

The Sumerians of Mesopotamia had known about the “plant of joy,” or opium, since 3400 BC. Given their geography, it’s no surprise that Arab traders later introduced this happiness-inducing substance to mainland China. However, Ancient Chinese texts from the Tang Dynasty (617–907) record opium being used for medical purposes.

British traders of the time were looking for new ways to expand their markets. Around the same period, the British army had just conquered the Mughal Empire in India. They soon discovered that the Mughals were already familiar with opium—cultivating and consuming it among certain circles, particularly the nobility.

Britain had been trading with China since 1635, though their dealings weren’t conducted directly between British buyers and Chinese merchants. Under the Qing Dynasty’s trade system, only designated intermediaries were allowed to interact with foreign traders. 

Illustration: britannica.com

The British sold opium to these official Chinese brokers, and the silver they earned from such transactions was then used to buy Chinese silver—used as raw material for coinage. Meanwhile, Chinese traders secretly bartered silver for opium with the British, viewing the official broker system as a barrier to 'the real gold (profit)'.

Silence as a Commodity

Those who advocate for the legalization of certain addictive substances often argue, “Marijuana is God’s creation, and God made everything in this world for humans. So why are we forbidden from enjoying His creation?”

I used to be an active drug user several years ago—that’s just how my life went. The drugs I used most often were marijuana and Lexto pills (or sometimes trihexyphenidyl). I also experimented with meth and heroin.

Aside of that, I was an alcoholic for about a year and a half. Altogether, I spent roughly seven years chasing hallucinations, on and off through the years. There were breaks between my first encounter with drugs in 1999 and finally quitting for good in 2018—after discovering yoga and meditation.

My reason for trying drugs was probably the same as many other addicts out there: I wanted to escape the pain of reality. Because of love betrayed by a man. Because of a love story without a happy ending. Because of infidelity.

Not a story to be proud of :(

There’s something in opium, marijuana, and similar plants that helps quiet the restless, angry, and sorrowful voices inside us. Unlike alcohol, which tends to reveal one’s true nature and hidden truths, drugs often push users toward silence. For some heavy users, the silence they seek is a productive one—a mental stillness to explore possibilities and turn them into something tangible.

That’s why drug dealers sell their products—because there will always be people who can’t manage their emotions without turning inward too hard. They turn to drugs to calm themselves, to freeze their body and mind into stillness while their hallucinations soar sky-high.

But this isn’t always be the case in the world of drugs. Certain types are also used to help users work harder, especially in physically demanding jobs.

Whose Fault Was It?

The era of mass opium addiction in China is often depicted in late-1990s kung fu films set in historical China—one example being a sequel of Once Upon a Time in China (I forget which one) starring Jet Li and Rosamund Kwan. These films, produced in Hong Kong before its return from Britain to China, often carried strong anti-Western messages—understandably so.

Like the tangled threads of our social media timelines, it’s easy to blame Britain for deliberately addicting the Chinese people to opium in order to weaken them from within. The First Opium War—born from China’s growing dependence on the drug—was indeed won by Britain.

What many don’t know is that by the late 18th century, there was already an income imbalance between British and Chinese traders. Chinese merchants sold far more goods to the British than they bought in return (sound familiar?).

Like any savvy businesspeople, the British realized that opium was in high demand in China. They sold it because it was the only product Chinese traders were eager to buy. Since the Qing Dynasty had banned opium trade, the substance became scarce—and, naturally, its price soared. Chinese traders weren’t about to miss out on that golden opportunity. (dswas)

“There Was Never a ‘Hand of God’”

It was June 22, 1986. Argentina faced England in the quarterfinals of the 1986 World Cup at Mexico’s Azteca Stadium. The first half ended goalless — 0-0. After the break, both teams pushed hard to ramp up their attacks the moment the whistle blew again.

Just six minutes into the second half, Maradona passed the ball to Jorge Valdano from outside the penalty box. Valdano tried to create an opening, dribbling past several English defenders, but his shot landed at the feet of England midfielder Steve Hodge, who attempted to clear it back toward goalkeeper Peter Shilton.

Maradona darted forward, trying to intercept the ball. Shilton saw him coming and jumped to punch it away with his right hand. Maradona, right in front of Shilton, leaped and headed the ball — but it brushed off his left hand. The ball landed in England’s net, sparking wild celebration among Argentine fans.

The Tunisian referee, Ali Ben Nasser, allowed the goal to stand despite fierce protests from the English players who clearly saw Maradona’s hand touch the ball.

That match, which Argentina eventually won, would be remembered by football fans as one of the most controversial goals in the sport’s history. When asked about it afterward, Maradona claimed the historic goal came from his head — and the “hand of God.” At least, that’s what he said for many years.

God as the Scapegoat?

The year 1986 was just four years after the Falklands War of 1982. That year, Argentina had invaded the Falkland Islands — a small archipelago geographically located within Argentina’s maritime zone, only about 500 kilometers from the coast of Patagonia, near the border with Chile. However, the islands were still a British colony, held since the colonial era.

Illustration: pexel.com

Nearly 700 Argentine soldiers died in the ten-week conflict. Overpowered by Britain’s superior military technology, Argentina was defeated — and has never attempted to reclaim the islands again. Still, resentment burned in the hearts of the Argentine people.

For Maradona, as he revealed in his biographical documentary, the Argentina vs. England match was an opportunity for revenge. And who wouldn’t feel anger at being told they had no right to a place that so clearly lies within their own territory?

That kind of bitterness doesn’t fade with time. It persists — in many places, in many hearts — as similar injustices repeat across the world. Over time, people start doubting their ability to achieve what they deserve, as high hopes crash hard against the ground of reality.

It’s in those dark moments that people look for something to hold on to — often religion. But this lantern doesn’t always shine bright in everyone’s hands. Not because faith itself is flawed, but because some never learn how to adjust the flame so it can truly light their way.

Liberating Responsibility

Long before AI was invented to make our lives easier, humans already sought ways to escape responsibility — quick and simple. This mindset stems from the belief that responsibility is a kind of burden, samsara that keeping us from fully enjoying life.

“We, the Argentine people, didn’t really know what our military was doing. They told us we were winning the war. But in truth, it was as if England had beaten us 20-0. It was painful. The atmosphere before that match was tense, heroic even — like we were going to war against England again,” Maradona said in an interview featured in the documentary Diego Maradona.

“I knew it was my hand that made the goal. I didn’t mean to do it, but the linesman didn’t see it. The referee looked at me and said, ‘Goal.’ It felt amazing — a symbolic revenge against England.”

Football fans often link Maradona’s behavior to the concept of vivezza criolla — roughly meaning “native cunning.” The phrase refers to the tendency among South Americans to do whatever it takes to achieve a goal, even if it means bending the rules.

Maradona’s handball — any player other than the goalkeeper touching the ball with their hand — took place inside England’s penalty box. Technically, it should have resulted in a penalty for England. Maradona, a brilliant footballer with a religious background, invoked God in justifying his “illegal” goal.

But in truth, Maradona freed himself from the burden — the samsara — of that act later in life when he admitted his mistake. It wasn’t the “hand of God,” he confessed. It was the hand of Diego. (dswas)