Make the spirits great again

The Age of Artificial Times

We are living in artificial times. Why do I call them artificial? Because we’ve become part of a system where everyone seems to be hand in glove with one another.

Look around—at workplaces, police stations, or even in our democracies. In offices, managers are hand in glove with management. In police stations, officers are often hand in glove with criminals. In politics, voters themselves are hand in glove with the very establishments they are meant to hold accountable.

This “hand in glove” nature of humanity has turned life into a carefully scripted play. No one speaks the truth to another. We live in a grand performance where honesty has lost its stage. And what’s the cost of this artificiality? It’s the loss of spirit—the living essence of the moment.

When a manager colludes with management, the spirit of leadership is compromised. When a police officer aligns with a criminal, the spirit of justice is betrayed. When a voter partners with corrupt politics, the spirit of democracy dies a little more.

Why does the world fear its own spirit? Because the spirit refuses to take part in the fakery. It doesn’t applaud the artificial moments that society celebrates. And so, humanity now stands at a crossroads—divided against its own soul.

What can we do to restore faith in humanity?
We must begin by celebrating the spirit itself. Place the spirit above personal gain, ego, or convenience. The spirit exists everywhere—but too often, it’s trampled by vested interests. Wherever it’s silenced, we must defend it.

We don’t need to make capitalism great again. Nor militaries, nor religious cults. The true need of our times is to make the spirit great again—the spirit that connects, liberates, and defines what it truly means to be human.

Vedic enslavery

Most of us struggle to believe in the idea of a *celestial nature* — a force that reminds us we are only a tiny part of a vast creation. Accepting this truth humbles us; it strips away the ego and teaches us to surrender to something greater than ourselves.

Yet, many ideas within the Vedic tradition offer a very different vision. They speak not of surrender but of mastery — of transcending the celestial order to become the *chakravarthy*, the ruler of the universe.

In this view, the world is not something to coexist with, but something to command. The Vedic impulse, at its core, seeks to dominate the divine rather than to dwell in harmony with it. It celebrates power, control, and a kind of spiritual monopoly — the belief that divinity can be invoked, directed, or even subdued through ritual and will.

By contrast, the celestial nature invites reverence. It asks us to celebrate the divine, not to enslave it.

So when you encounter pride in the so-called glory of the Vedic age, pause for a moment. Ask what that pride is built upon — a reverence for the divine, or an urge to possess it.

Because sometimes, what we call empowerment is only another form of enslavement — not of the divine, but of ourselves.