In an age where information overwhelms and beliefs divide, we often forget that connection – not correctness – is what keeps us human. This reflection explores fear, longevity, belief, and the delicate art of letting go.

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“Drowning in a Sea of Misinformation? Take My Hand.”

by Shelly Moore Caron

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Perhaps there is no greater delusion as human beings than our desire for longevity. Life is full of turmoil and struggle with brief blips of bliss – quick bursts of joy to carry us through the rest.

Perhaps this desire is reserved mostly for those with means, or for those who deeply fear the unknown. Perhaps what we call a love of life is often fueled by a fear of facing whatever comes next.

Perhaps the desire to live longer stems from deep selfishness – or fear. Consider the weight of an extended lifetime and the toll it takes on the planet, on resources, and on the people we ask to keep us alive.

Perhaps we’ve become so mentally, spiritually, and physically divided that we can no longer see the natural rhythm of life. We interfere with everything, forgetting that existence never needed our interference – and our interferences are really little more than flea bites along the skin of reality.

Perhaps it is not the length of life that matters, but the quality.

Perhaps some lifetimes are meant to be short, others long. Perhaps no life is ever truly “cut short.” Maybe each lifetime simply meets its goal, and the electromagnetic tether that held the soul in the body releases when it’s completed.

Perhaps our fear of death clings tightly to that tether, creating tension, manifesting as strife and dis-ease as we desperately hold on.

Then again… perhaps there’s no tether.

Perhaps there’s no freedom at all.

Perhaps while energy cannot be destroyed, the energy of who we are within these flesh suits might not be substantial enough to hold form outside them. Perhaps when we expire, so too does the mind – not the brain, which decays alongside the body – but the voice behind the eyelids, the place where thought becomes creation, dissipates.

Perhaps in an age overflowing with information – conflicting, overwhelming, and weaponized – we’ve grown desperately thirsty for truth. We try to satiate that thirst with easy “knowledge,” forgetting that most knowledge was presented first as fact by inherently flawed humans.

Perhaps our desire to be correct has surpassed our desire to connect.

Perhaps connection, our oldest survival instinct, has been stomped flat by millennia of barely surviving. Maybe that instinct burrowed deep into every thought we have, including how (and whether) we choose to connect.

Perhaps it’s time we admit this isn’t working. The quality of a life is infinitely more important than the quantity of years.

Perhaps we can begin to rewire our instincts by reminding ourselves that deeds, connections, thoughts, and actions matter far more than the tallying of rotations around the sun.

Perhaps creating a healthy earthly vessel for your soul is important – but creating ripples of positivity, inspiration, love, hope, and transformation is far more important. Pretend your thoughts and actions are pebbles you toss into stagnant waters, stirring movement in the sea of life.

Perhaps everything you’ve learned along your way this lifetime is right.

Perhaps it’s all very, very wrong.

Perhaps there are grains of truth buried within deserts of misinformation – and perhaps for every grain of truth, there are ten billion lies… or vice versa. If we commit to any single grain, we risk closing ourselves to truth entirely.

Perhaps we were never meant to have so much sand thrown in our faces, so we cling – drowning, grasping for anything – and when we find a belief, we cling harder. It gives us respite. A breath. Belief is an act of self-preservation.

Perhaps it’s time to let go. Let the sandy waters wash over you, but do not breathe them in. Watch beliefs come and go. Watch as others cling to their own grains. Do not judge – they are fighting for breath, too.

Perhaps this is how we evolve – by remembering we are the only species able to learn from the past and imagine the future.

Perhaps it is time to take the red pill – while acknowledging the blue was never wrong, just different.

Perhaps it’s time to value connection over correction, to live like we finally understand: we’re all in this together. We were never alone. Our beliefs isolated us, but now we know better.

And when we know better, we can progress together.

Perhaps we were put here to simply evolve.

We drown when we cling.

We ride when we release.

Let go. Connect. Evolve.

Take my hand.

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