In this excerpt from Trembling, Still, Stephen Jenkinson reflects on Parkinson’s disease, mortality, and the unraveling of modern fantasies of control. Fierce, lyrical, and unsentimental, the work asks what it means to live truthfully within uncertainty and diminishment.
The fears around AI are real. But it's not AI that we have to necessarily fear - it's us.
This reflective essay explores how our relationship to the past shapes the futures we can imagine. Greg Anderson invites readers to examine inherited narratives, question entrenched assumptions, and use history as a creative resource—opening possibilities for more humane, relational, and life-affirming ways of living forward together.
Akomolafe explores “cracks” as sacred ruptures in the architecture of modernity—sites where the world exceeds its own design and invites new forms of becoming. Rejecting doors, solutions, and behavioral frames, he gestures toward a geophilosophy of fugitivity, where instability reveals emergent possibilities beyond human exclusivity and settled assumptions.
Svetomir Karovski explores AI not as a threat but as a potential catalyst for humanity’s spiritual evolution. Drawing on mystical experiences in the Andes and rural life in Serbia, he frames AI as a mirror of human consciousness—capable of amplifying greed or guiding us toward love, coherence, and divinity.
Filippo Dal Fiore critiques reductionist tendencies in social science that create ideologies, abstractions, and disconnection from lived reality. He calls for a return to simplicity through analogies, subjective experience, and universal common sense. Science, he argues, must serve life by rediscovering its foundations in clarity, purpose, and human wisdom.
Jem Bendell reflects on the disillusionment of UN staff confronting ecological, economic, and political breakdown. Rather than propping up failing systems, he urges a shift toward “collapse-aware” integrity: naming the storm, fostering resilience, and reclaiming the UN’s spirit of service as truth-telling, solidarity, and courage in darkening times.
Soft rebellion refuses urgency and exhaustion. It listens, weaves, and roots. It resists not by mirroring violence, but by embodying tenderness as strategy—disrupting systems with care, beauty, and the quiet cunning of the wild.
The density of the water holds me afloat with no need to paddle. I stretch out and float on my back and the sounds around me become distorted by water. Staring at the sky, I take a few deep breaths and then close my eyes. I allow myself to float there for a moment, thankful for the chance to experience this place.
Much of today’s social and climate justice culture focuses on change—yet often skips over the loss that comes with it. It’s okay to grieve what we’re leaving behind, even if it was flawed. It’s okay to feel conflicted. There’s a call for a softer approach to change—one that makes space for paradox, complexity, and the full spectrum of our emotions.