Category Archives: Reflections

Here I pause to think out loud. From societal questions to inner transformations, these entries explore ideas, emotions, and contradictions — with no need for perfect conclusions. It’s where thought meets feeling.

An image from the movie Braveheart (1995)

#32 Is freedom in crisis?

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Freedom: the condition or right of being able or allowed to do, say, think, etc. whatever you want to, without being controlled or limited.

Freedom for basic rights

“Freeedoooom,” screams William Wallace at the end of the movie Braveheart, while English executioners tear his body apart during a prolonged torture before finally chopping off his head.
In the movie, based on a real story, Wallace fought to avenge the murder of his bride and for the freedom of Scotland.

In other parts of the world, right now, people are also fighting for freedom. Afghan women—who, up until the late 70s, had experienced steady progress in their rights, just like in many other parts of the world—saw decades of progress undone: first with the Soviet withdrawal, then with the international troop withdrawal led by the US. In both cases, a vacuum was left behind, filled by Taliban extremism, leading to violent repression of women’s rights.

The LGBTQ+ community is seeing their basic rights being repressed in Hungary (most recently a ban on the Pride parade under the guise of child protection—while neo-Nazi demonstrations are permitted—doesn’t bode well for this year’s Pride in June. Expect headlines about a harsh crackdown by the Hungarian government). This follows the Russian-style “putinization” supposedly aiming to restore or protect what some define as “conservative values.”

Ukrainians first fought to defend themselves from an invader, then were deluded by Western puppet masters into pursuing a war to defeat Russia. Now, they are being manipulated again—this time by what appears to be a Trump-Putin quasi-alliance, excluding Ukrainians from any real negotiations. Meanwhile, tens of thousands of men and women have lost—and continue to lose—their lives on the battlefields.

Investigations by international NGOs such as Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have concluded that Israel is committing acts that amount to genocide against Palestinians. The word genocide is one that makes one flinch—especially when viewed through the painful paradox of Jewish history just 80 years ago. Meanwhile, Palestinians have been systematically denied a voice in much of the Western media, where coverage often remains apathetic, reduced to daily death tolls that now consist almost entirely of civilians.

But what we’re really witnessing is a clash of ideologies and propaganda that we’re all severely subjected to, often forced to take a side in every situation, whether we want to or not. We are like cows, completely submitted to the will of governments, corporations, organizations—masters who have full control over our lives as a collective. In fact, I would go as far as to say that we do not exist collectively outside the context of these institutions. Is it bad? Is it good? No idea. Maybe it’s brought more good than harm—after all, organizing eight billion humans any other way might be impossible.

An age of confusion

From one perspective, the restriction of freedom arises from fear. Fear leads to a utopian attempt at control. And control eventually backfires, giving rise to reactionary forces and movements that can themselves become radicalized. The clearest historical example: fascism and Nazism rising in the 1920s in reaction to communism and the form it had taken at the time.

When ideology proliferates and takes over rationality and critical thinking, the soil becomes fertile for dictatorial practices. Take Western moral hypocrisy—we’ve been brainwashed for years into believing that Western governments are ethically driven, morally superior, and paradoxically “blessed” with the lessons learned from past horrors: colonialism, the Inquisition, concentration camps, gulags, and more. We’ve been convinced of this narrative so thoroughly that we can no longer distinguish good from evil in a world where everyone believes they are on the “right” side.

Need for freedom

So, if collective freedom depends so much on rules, ideologies, and cultural practices—are we at least freer on an individual level?

I would argue we are not. The main reason: our actions have consequences. No matter the society, the community, the family, or the relationship—we live by a set of rules that limit our individual actions. To be truly free, one must be willing to accept the consequences of their actions. That’s where ethics, values, and education come into play. To what extent we’ve been taught to respect (or disregard) rules and others makes a huge difference in our lives.

Expectations through changes

And that’s where expectations come in—when we enter a relationship, start a new job, or move to a new city or country—and reality smacks us in the face. A process begins: we polish our behavior and adapt our values to fit the new environment. In doing so, we also discover which values we’re unwilling to compromise.

We swing like a pendulum between extremes: sometimes excited by change, sometimes completely frustrated or suffocated by it. That’s when tolerance, experience, and empathy become essential. The ability to accommodate each other’s differences while preserving respect for our own backgrounds and values is a difficult job—but not impossible.

Everything changes in this process, leading us down new and unknown paths, which naturally freaks us out. Then we swing back to the other extreme, trying to control things to reestablish balance, calm, and order—before opening ourselves to the next wave of novelty.

If we pay attention, we’ll see this pattern not only at the individual level but also collectively. The real danger is when we freak out too much—and lose our minds.

#31 What I don’t want to write about

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This week, I tried to write a post several times, failing miserably at each attempt.

Initially, I wanted to write about my holiday in Portugal. I managed a few paragraphs and even came up with a title I really liked. It felt simple, catchy, and fitting for the overall topic I had in mind: “The importance of taking a break.” But by the time I reached paragraph five, I had already lost the plot. I was writing about anything but the importance of taking a break.

Instead, I found myself rambling about the thoughts that had accompanied me during my vacation in Portugal—things like “I’m grateful for this…”, “I found that so annoying…”, “That person was a creep”, “That other person was so nice”, and so on.

I read the whole thing out loud again, and it irritated me. I didn’t want to put anybody else through that unexciting, boring collection of random thoughts. So, I deleted it and started all over again.

My next idea was to talk about a project that I’ve had in mind for a while now: reading extracts from books that taught me valuable lessons. This time, however, the title I came up with was disastrous: “A reading project.” Just for the record, I think it’s important to come up with the title at some point during the writing process. It gives me clear direction—an answer to the quintessential writer’s question: “What do I want to write about?” But no, “A reading project” didn’t strike a chord. It was too broad, and somehow I ended up talking about childhood dreams I had long forgotten.

Today, three hours of my precious time went by between unexciting meal prepping, interrupted second-season episodes of Fleabag, chips, large cups of coffee, and random words written on WordPress. All this while the sun was shining brightly outside. And there I was, thinking, Well then, when it’s raining you can’t really complain about it.

At that point, I was ready to give up. I was starting to feel like a fraud, questioning my skills, creativity, attention span, life—while also feeling deep guilt for wasting a sunny day. WTF?!

Then I realized something—or better, I found something to blame for my lack of ideas: society, once again. Of course! In these times of uncertainty (I think this is one of my most used words lately), insecurity (this is my second), and lack of collective purpose—other than worrying about war, having a stable job, and how crazy we’re all becoming, ignorant, and trapped in a vicious cycle of extreme events (which, in my case, feels like the beginning of a new Middle Age).

But again, no. That has nothing to do with my writing skills, creative process, and so on. I’m just in my own process. I’m realizing, once again, that I don’t have to figure out what I want to write about. Instead, I just need to go with what’s true to me in a specific moment—which, in itself, is a challenging endeavor.

So, in the end, I would conclude by saying that there is no magic formula. For me, every post is a new, very different experience. The only thing I can do is try to look into myself honestly and figure out what’s true to me in the moment.

What we want to write about sometimes comes by excluding what we don’t want to write about. Hence, letting go of what doesn’t resonate with us in a given moment and leaving space for what does.

#29 Uma breve distinção: ambição construtiva e ambição destrutiva

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Eu tento sempre pensar em qual será o próximo passo importante que darei na minha vida. E com “passo importante”, quero dizer algo que me fará avançar como indivíduo. No entanto, às vezes me questiono se essa mentalidade não pode acabar complicando nossa vida, em vez de melhorá-la.

Ouso fazer uma distinção entre ambição construtiva e ambição destrutiva. E, ao usar “destrutiva”, não o faço de maneira leviana. Pelo contrário, acredito que uma ambição mal direcionada pode nos levar à perda da saúde, tanto física quanto mental. E não apenas a nossa própria saúde, mas também a das pessoas ao nosso redor. Um exemplo claro disso é a figura de Gordon Gekko, do filme Wall Street dos anos 80, cuja filosofia “ganância é boa” (“greed is good”) reflete perfeitamente os perigos da ambição destrutiva.

O drama dessa questão é que quem é um vetor da ambição destrutiva, na maioria das vezes (e digo isso com base apenas na minha observação pessoal, sem qualquer fundamento em pesquisa científica), não tem consciência disso. Ou, então, foi tão corrompido por essa ambição que já não há mais volta.

Por outro lado, quem manifesta ambição construtiva tem um poder incrível: sua energia parece fluir sem esforço e iluminar muito além de si mesmo. Acredito que essa ambição surja da aceitação de que a vida é feita de ciclos, mais ou menos semelhantes, mas sempre desconhecidos. Podemos imaginar o amanhã, mas nunca saberemos exatamente como ele se desenvolverá. E não saber o que nos espera, não ter controle absoluto, não é algo ruim. Pelo contrário, aprender a se entregar ao desconhecido nos ensina a aceitar o fluxo natural da vida.

Já a ambição destrutiva parece estar enraizada no desejo de controle. E esse desejo, por sua vez, nasce do medo de perdê-lo. Por isso, essa forma de ambição tem um poder corrompedor: tudo aquilo que não sabemos deixar ir tem o poder de corromper nossa alma.

#25 Coerenza interiore e cambiamenti personali tra verità e onestà

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Onestà: La qualità interiore di chi si comporta con lealtà, rettitudine e sincerità, in base a principi morali ritenuti universalmente validi.

Verità: Carattere di ciò che è vero, conformità o coerenza a principi dati o a una realtà obiettiva.

Vocabolario Treccani

Queste definizioni, prese dal vocabolario e lette al volo nel contesto in cui viviamo oggi, mi fanno pensare a una vecchia cornice impolverata appesa al muro di una casa abbandonata chissà dove. Devo dire che molte altre parole che incarnano ideali morali hanno su di me lo stesso effetto malinconico, se considerate in relazione alla realtà che ci circonda. Eppure, continuo a cercarle dentro di me, a perdermi in un mondo che oscilla tra il complesso e il superficiale, spesso confondendomi.

L’onestà, come valore, l’ho sempre distinta dalla verità come concetto, almeno inconsciamente – o almeno credo. Tuttavia, quando mi trovo coinvolto in dinamiche complesse, sia sentimentali che professionali, a volte utilizzo questi due termini in modo intercambiabile, confondendo i loro significati. Ma questa confusione, tutto sommato, la considero positiva perché mi spinge a riflettere più attentamente su entrambi. Non mi interessa tanto esplorare il loro significato o l’etimologia – non avrei le competenze necessarie, non essendo né linguista, né antropologo, né ricercatore. Piuttosto, mi interrogo su ciò che rappresentano per me.

Istintivamente direi che verità e onestà hanno per me un valore quasi assoluto, guidandomi in ogni decisione, azione o interazione quotidiana. Ma affermarlo sarebbe una bugia. Essere onesto, dire la verità e comportarmi in modo autentico è un’impresa che spesso mi sovrasta. Per me, infatti, l’onestà non si limita a dire la verità a qualcuno, ma implica agire in linea con i miei valori, come suggerisce la definizione riportata all’inizio di questo articolo. Se riesco ad agire in linea con i miei principi morali, allora la questione superficiale del “dire la verità” nemmeno si pone, perché ogni azione sarebbe allineata con il mio autentico io, con l’immagine che ho di me stesso.

Ed è qui che mi trovo in un’impasse: l’immagine che ho di me potrebbe non corrispondere alla verità. Eppure, quella stessa immagine, nel tempo, potrebbe guidarmi verso la verità. Ma anche se, in un dato momento, essa fosse effettivamente in linea con il mio autentico io e con i principi morali che ho scelto come base della mia identità, questo stato non sarebbe altro che temporaneo. Io mi percepisco in continua evoluzione, in costante cambiamento, accompagnando un mondo che viaggia a una velocità incredibile – o forse sono io quello lento… chi lo sa. Che il mondo sia veloce o io lento, alla fine non importa.

Io non credo – nel senso di credere devotamente o indiscutibilmente a qualcosa. Questo mio continuo evolvermi ha consolidato un approccio critico e curioso, che mette in discussione tutto.

La morte, ad esempio, non mi spaventa. Invecchiare non mi infastidisce. Perdere i capelli non mi rende paranoico. La solitudine, cambiare amicizie, ricominciare in una nuova città, traslocare in un altro paese, lasciare tutto per un nuovo inizio: sono cose che ho fatto ripetutamente nella mia vita, a volte per circostanze esterne, altre per decisioni personali.

Nonostante questi cambiamenti continui, i miei principi morali guida sono rimasti più o meno gli stessi. A volte mi hanno guidato con maggiore forza, altre con meno. Ed è strano: mentre scrivo, mi viene in mente un altro concetto, quello di fede. Solo nominarlo sembra contraddire tutto ciò che ho detto prima sul fatto che io non credo.

Ma benché le mie riflessioni su questo e mi molti altri temi mi portino spesso contraddizioni o riflessioni inconcludenti, trovo conforto nella complessità e nell’evoluzione costante del mio rapporto con la verità e l’onestà.

#24 Making space for the silence within

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There are moments when my mind shuts down—when no matter how much effort I put into deciding what to do next, my brain simply refuses to respond or act. It doesn’t matter if it’s about preparing the next meal or planning the next big step in my life. My body won’t move. It feels like a meteorological phenomenon inside my soul—a heavy, warm wind pressing down. Sometimes it lasts a few hours; sometimes, it lingers for a couple of days.

I used to resist these moments, seeking shelter in unhealthy ways by blaming myself and feeling resentful. I would desperately try to fill the emptiness with random, unplanned actions that lacked intention or purpose. After all, isn’t that what we’re taught by the outside world? “Brush it off.” “Just do something.”
Often, this overwhelming wind would push me into a deep hole, where solitude and loneliness threatened to consume me.

This weekend, the strong, warm wind came again. However, for some months now, I’ve stopped resisting it. I let it shake me. I let it push me into the hole. And in that quiet, I found myself. I sat in silence, under an imaginary tree, and hugged myself. I whispered, “Don’t worry. No rush. It’s all good. This will pass.” And it did.

I decided to keep caring for myself in my own way—not in the way the world expects me to. My thoughts were scattered, and there was some anxiety, but I allowed it to exist.

I went for a walk. Luckily, the sun was shining—a rare sight in Berlin’s winter skies. Then I went to the sauna, reconnecting with my body and soul. When I returned home, the wind within me had softened into a gentle, pleasant breeze.

#20 Globalist jackal: is there such a thing?

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In the last few decades, thanks especially to the internet and a more globalized world, a segment of Earth’s citizens has progressively benefited from a borderless reality, allowing them to move and establish themselves almost anywhere they desire — a trend exacerbated following the COVID pandemic.

The reasons for such a choice are many, depending on the profession one exercises, a search for better living conditions, a drive to live differently according to rules and cultural norms that better resonate with them, and so forth. This practice has given rise to enticing titles that the privileged among us proudly embrace: globe trotters, digital nomads, expats, remote workers.

In many cases, though, this decision to move somewhere else has been driven by a simple impulse to explore a different corner of the world for a short period of time, only to then move on to another, making this some sort of appealing practice. There are many documentaries available online of influencers, for example, going somewhere like India only to criticize the way other cultures live and leave with a pros and cons list to share with their audience, disregarding the long-term consequences of their actions.

Lately, I have been reflecting on whether this last category of professionals who wander around the globe deserves a more specific title with a connotation that fits this type of mindset.

Today, we are more aware that the privilege of some comes at the expense of others, often decreasing the quality of life for local communities. Perhaps we’ve always known this, but we are now more mature and collectively prepared to take responsibility for our actions. Despite this, no term has been coined to properly define this category of nomads. This has led me to question whether a more nuanced vocabulary might better highlight the less glamorous consequences of some people who take advantage of global professional mobility. One term I’ve been pondering is globalist jackals.

The existing terms are usually associated with the appealing aspects of global mobility: cultural depth fostered by living in different parts of the world; the boost to economies through spending power and new businesses in areas with lower living costs; the flexibility of work environments; and inclusivity. These and many other aspects have served as catalysts for global change and innovation.

Unfortunately, there is another side to the coin.

What I would call globalist jackals, in particular, drive up living costs in the areas where they relocate. Their demand for short-term rentals reduces housing availability for residents. They displace communities, contributing to over-tourism, disrupting local cultures, and eroding traditional ways of life, leaving some communities feeling exploited or undervalued.

Moreover, individuals benefiting from global mobility who genuinely wish to integrate and adapt to local customs may face misjudgment or unjust accusations, being lumped together with those who move on to their next destination without meaningful interaction or pondering their choices with reasons beyond the drive to “discover the world.”

Legal gray areas are created and exploited by individuals with selfish intentions, with little to no regard for local community needs. For example, it’s known that governments struggle to tax digital nomads who earn abroad while utilizing local resources, even though this varies greatly by country and specific tax treaties.

It has also been reported that what I would define as globalist jackals exacerbate inequalities, widening the gap between those with access to technology, education, and global mobility versus those without.

While there are many other factors that could justify coining the term globalist jackals, it’s crucial to recognize the dangers of using such pejorative terms indiscriminately. Doing so risks fueling discriminatory and even racist narratives.

The debate around the terminology we use to describe global professionals underscores the need for accountability and awareness in a world where profiting from mobility by choice, and not by survival-oriented need or duty, is both a privilege and a responsibility. As global citizens, we must understand what impact our ambitions have on others, acknowledging that consequences may take time to arise and often unfold in unpredictable ways.

This is a speculative and reductive take on a much broader and more complex topic, one that has been researched and discussed in much greater depth. So, please take my perspective with a grain of salt. I am curious to hear your thoughts. Have you previously reflected on this topic, specifically the glamorous terminology used to define this trend? Does the term globalist jackal make sense? What other terms would you suggest for discussing this phenomenon?