I'm a curious person. I like to have dialog about anything. I like to express, but I also like to learn. What I say is not out of malice, but to spark a conversation.
Humans are meant to grow through intelligence. Intelligence is gained by knowledge. Knowledge is gained through experience.
Recently many Palestinian blogs are reaching out to me. I support Palestine and Gaza 🙏 But due to scams I will not provide money directly.
I donate to the IRC. I can only support annually and a little, I wish I could do more. If others like me see the true atrocities that are happening here, please help. Whatever you can manage and even if you can't, please inform others and share the link below.
I can't imagine the pain, fear, and suffering they are enduring...I'm an American, this is NOT what I want my country to stand for. We must end this. We must. God...please...save Palestine 🇵🇸
Learn more about how the IRC is delivering lifesaving aid to Palestinians, and what you can do to help.
Animals have a unique consciousness and intelligence that has been disregard and minimized by most humans for centuries.
This misunderstanding has lead to countless murders of animals. Most recently, animals are being displaced and forced to enter human territory through desperation for food. Because of this, humans see this as a threat and kill them, usuallly an adult trying to take of their young as in the above clip.
See how she calls her cubs? How they run to her with excitement? They are intelligent and emotional creatures and deserve a safe and secure place on this planet just like the rest of us.
In Inuit mythology, Amarok (sometimes spelled Amaroq) is a great wolf—vast, solitary, intelligent—who walks the Arctic night as a force of correction rather than chaos.
Amarok does not hunt in packs. He hunts alone. And importantly, he does not hunt indiscriminately.
He hunts those who forget.
Not a Villain, but a Warning
In traditional stories, Amarok targets hunters who wander out unprepared, hunt recklessly, or take more than they need. Those who act with arrogance, isolation, or disrespect toward the land are the ones who draw his attention.
This makes Amarok unusual when compared to many mythic predators. He is not evil. He is not malicious. He does not delight in destruction.
He exists to restore balance.
By killing careless hunters, Amarok protects animal populations from overhunting. He reinforces an unspoken rule: survival requires humility, patience, and respect—for the land, for animals, and for one’s own limits.
What’s striking about Amarok is what he isn’t. He isn’t a cursed human, like the European werewolf. He isn’t nature as something to be conquered or feared. He is nature as something responsive.
In Inuit worldview, the land is not passive. It observes. It reacts. It remembers.
Amarok embodies that idea. He is the land’s way of saying: pay attention.
The Danger of the Lone Wolf
Amarok himself is solitary, yet he punishes humans who isolate themselves foolishly. The lesson isn’t that solitude is wrong—it’s that isolation without wisdom, preparation, or community is dangerous.
Strength without awareness becomes recklessness. Independence without respect becomes hubris.
Amarok appears where that line is crossed.
A Modern Reading
Seen through a modern or psychological lens, Amarok can be understood as the moment consequences arrive after prolonged disregard—when systems pushed too far finally push back.
Ecologically, he mirrors what happens when balance is ignored. Emotionally, he reflects what happens when we disconnect from our bodies, our limits, or each other. Socially, he warns against believing we can exist without accountability to the whole.
He is not punishment for being human. He is correction for forgetting how to be human well.
Why Amarok Still Matters
In a world that rewards excess, speed, and domination, Amarok offers a different value system:
Take only what you need
Respect the systems that sustain you
Do not mistake entitlement for strength
Remember that survival is relational, not solitary
Amarok does not ask for worship. He demands awareness.
And perhaps that’s why he endures—not as a monster lurking in the dark, but as a reminder that balance is not optional. It is enforced, one way or another.
Lately, it feels like truth itself has become negotiable.
Every issue seems to come with competing “realities,” each defended with absolute certainty. Facts are dismissed as bias. Feelings are elevated to proof. And disagreement is treated not as inquiry, but as threat. In that landscape, it’s easy to conclude that truth is now subjective.
But what’s changed isn’t truth. What’s changed is our shared agreement about how truth is determined.
Truth does not depend on popularity. A fact doesn’t become false because people disagree about it, nor does it become true because enough voices repeat it. History makes this painfully clear: there have always been moments when lies dominated the public narrative—sometimes for decades—without becoming reality.
The Rise of Subjective Authority
In recent years, subjective experience has taken center stage. This shift began with good intentions: acknowledging pain, honoring lived experience, and correcting systems that ignored or silenced people.
But something went sideways.
Experience explains how something feels, not necessarily what caused it or what it means universally. Pain is real. Interpretation can still be wrong. When feelings are treated as unquestionable authority, truth loses its anchor.
Subjectivity matters—but it cannot replace evidence, context, or reasoning.
Narrative Power vs. Reality
Those with influence can shape stories, but stories are not reality. Control of a narrative can bury truth temporarily, distort it, or delay its recognition—but it cannot erase it.
This distinction matters now because confusion has become profitable. When people can’t tell what’s real, they disengage. They retreat into tribes. They stop questioning. A fog of “everything is relative” benefits those who don’t want to be challenged.
One way to stay grounded is to separate three things we often blur together:
Facts can be checked.
Interpretations can be debated.
Values can be chosen.
If truth feels unstable right now, that’s not a personal failure or naïveté. It’s a signal. You’re noticing the erosion of shared standards, and that awareness itself is grounding.
When these collapse into one another, confusion thrives. When they remain distinct, clarity becomes possible—even amid disagreement.
Truth doesn’t shout. It doesn’t need constant force to survive. It tends to be quieter—persistent, uncomfortable, and clarifying over time.
Living truthfully today isn’t about winning arguments or declaring certainty. It’s about maintaining coherence—between what you know, what you value, and how you act.
Living With Integrity in a Post-Truth Atmosphere
That requires restraint, curiosity, and care for your own nervous system. You are not obligated to absorb every distortion to stay informed, nor to engage every provocation to stay moral. Clarity needs space. Discernment needs rest.
In a world where reality feels negotiable, choosing honesty over outrage and coherence over volume becomes a quiet act of resistance. Not because it guarantees certainty—but because it keeps you whole.
