Tag Archives: health

by | February 9, 2026 · 9:24 am

Embracing Change: Pain and Growth

“Be willing to let go of who you are, for who you are becoming.” – Meister Eckhart (13th-Century Mystic)

There are moments in life when moving forward feels impossible. The way ahead seems blocked, not by one clear obstacle, but by a quiet accumulation of losses, disappointments, and unanswered questions. Something has ended. Something hurts in a way that cannot be easily fixed. And in those moments, it can feel as though nothing is happening at all.

Yet beneath the surface, something is quietly stirring. What looks like stillness is often a deep, unseen movement and a reordering that cannot be rushed or explained. This is not stagnation, but a subtle turning of the soul.

We are quick to judge these seasons as failures or weaknesses. We tell ourselves we should be coping better, moving faster, knowing more. But what if pain and failure are not signs that we have lost our way? What if they are threshold moments—gentle, demanding invitations into a new beginning, or into a deeper way of seeing and being?

Henry James, often regarded as a founding voice in American philosophy, spoke to this hidden depth when he wrote that life is “always more divine than it seems, and hence we can survive degradations and despairs which otherwise must engulf us.”

The Threshold Moment

A threshold is not a destination. It is not even a clear path. It is a space between: between what has been and what is becoming. It is coming out of a dark, cold winter with the seeds of spring waiting to sprout.

In threshold moments, the old story—the one that once made sense, gave structure, identity, or safety—begins to loosen its grip. It no longer fits. Yet the new story has not arrived fully formed. There are no clear instructions, and there is primarily uncertainty.

This in-between space can feel deeply uncomfortable. It often comes with grief, fatigue, confusion, or a quiet panic that whispers, “I should be further along by now.”

But thresholds are not failures of progress.
They are pauses of transformation.

When Pain Is Asking for Attention, Not Erasure

Pain has a bad reputation. There is a tendency to push it away, a rush to numb it with distractions, and explain it away. Yet pain often carries a message that can’t be accessed in any other way. It forces you to dig deep into your inner resources. It is asking you to slow down and pay attention to what is happening.

Failure, too, has a voice. It may be saying: This path has run its course. Or: This version of you has served its purpose.

Letting the Old Story End

Endings rarely announce themselves cleanly. More often, they fray at the edges. Motivation fades. Joy drains away. What once felt purposeful now feels heavy or hollow. It could be anything from a job, a location, a home, or even a long-term relationship. This should not be seen as betrayal or weakness, but something new unfolding slowly.

The courage of a threshold moment lies not in forcing clarity, but in allowing uncertainty to do its work in trusting that not knowing is sometimes the most honest spiritual posture.

You don’t need to rush to define the next chapter. You only need to be present enough to notice what is loosening—and what is quietly insisting on staying alive.

A Gentle Practice for the Threshold

Rather than trying to solve or transcend this moment, you might sit with it. Breathe with it. Let it speak. Found more moments of solitude so that the voice within can be perceived.

Ask yourself, without urgency or judgment:

  • What am I being asked to release?
    A role? An expectation? A belief or particular self-sabotaging talk?
  • What feels unfinished, yet still alive?
    A longing? A truth you haven’t yet honored? A call that has been whispering rather than shouting?

Staying with the Becoming

Thresholds are sacred precisely because they are uncomfortable. They strip away certainty and invite you into a deeper honesty. They teach you that meaning is not only found in arrival, but in the courage to stay present while becoming. They force you to look more closely in the darkness.

If you find yourself here—tired, unsure, grieving something you can’t quite name—know this:
You are not broken. You are not behind. You are standing at a doorway.

And sometimes, the most honest thing you can do is wait with open hands until the new story is ready to unfold.

If you find yourself standing in such a threshold—sensing that something has ended, but not yet knowing what comes next—you don’t have to walk this terrain alone. A Pilgrimage to New Beginnings is a gentle online journey created by me for moments just like this: a spacious, reflective path for those navigating endings, listening for what wants to be born, and learning to trust the wisdom of the in-between. If this speaks to where you are, you are warmly invited to join us on March 4th and take the next few steps—slowly, honestly, and in your own time.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

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by | February 3, 2026 · 12:44 pm

The Dark Side of Christian Nationalism

Having grown up in apartheid South Africa, I witnessed firsthand how religion can be distorted to justify some of the gravest human rights abuses. History offers chilling parallels: in Nazi Germany, the swastika found its way into church ceremonies, with clergy openly swearing allegiance to a dictator.

Today, a similar shadow—rooted in comparable theological distortions—is emerging within the Christian Nationalist movement in the United States.

Theology and religion are human constructions that often claim divine authority. Yet when they are used to sanctify power, exclusion, or domination, they stand in stark contradiction to the core teachings of early Christianity and the mystical tradition, which consistently point toward humility, compassion, and the radical dignity of every human being.

The Christian Nationalist movement operates with a social-Darwinist logic: power is taken as proof of truth, strength as legitimacy to rule, and survival as confirmation of human worth. The ideologues of apartheid followed the same reasoning. Racial domination was justified through a distorted theology that claimed the ruling white Afrikaner population had been chosen by God, much like ancient Israel, while other races were destined to serve the so-called “chosen people.”

Such an ideology devastates the very tenets of a caring, humane society. It dehumanizes not only its victims but, ultimately, also the perpetrators and those who wield power. Essential human qualities—empathy, love, and compassion—are sacrificed. Overarching foundational values and ethics are eroded. There is extreme polarization between “us” and “them,” sowing the seeds of a conflict-ridden society that can last generations.

For Christian mystics, however, God is never encountered at the top of a hierarchy. God is found in descent—into poverty of spirit, vulnerability, empathy, and the surrender of control and power.

The 13th-century mystic Meister Eckhart goes so far as to say that God can only enter the soul when it becomes nothing. This is the precise opposite of evolutionary ascent and nationalist thinking built on “us over them,” where identity precedes ethics. In early Christian ethics, election is always for the sake and service of others, never against them.

The apostle Paul shatters tribal and hierarchical thinking when he writes:

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.”

The mystics radicalize this even further. God is encountered beyond all description and distinction. Ultimately, the soul is eternal and has no nationality.

Julian of Norwich’s famous vision—“All shall be well”—embraces all of creation, not a purified remnant.

Social Darwinism interprets weakness and poverty as failure. Jesus’ teachings, however, were taken literally by early Christians:

  • Blessed are the poor
  • Blessed are the meek
  • Blessed are the persecuted

These were not metaphors. Early Christians were often minorities without political power—socially marginalized and frequently persecuted. The Cross was not an abstract symbol but a mirror of their own suffering, where pain and challenge were understood as moments of revelation. To this day, many churches recognize care for the sick, the feeding of the poor, and the protection of the weak as faith made visible.

The mystics take this even further by turning inward, welcoming the soul’s own shadow. God is found where the ego loses its boundaries. Isaac of Nineveh writes:

“A heart that has learned compassion burns for the whole creation.”

This vision is anti-Darwinian and anti-predestination to its core.

The social-Darwinist logic of the state claims that violence preserves order and advances God’s evolutionary plan by eliminating the weak. Early Christians and martyrs exposed the lie of violence. They refused to cooperate with its false claims, rejected armed revolt, and resisted the sacralization of force.

Christian Nationalism imagines history moving upward through domination. Mystical Christianity understands history as being transformed from within, through the elevation of consciousness. The Kingdom of God is invisible, non-coercive, and never aligned with empire or government.

Truth does not require dominance. Love—not survival—is the measure of divine destiny.

Where social Darwinism asks, “Who deserves to live?”
Christianity asks, “Who is already loved?”

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S. For those who feel drawn to explore this in-between season more intentionally, I am offering a six-week online course, Pilgrimage into New Beginnings. It is a quiet, reflective journey for times of transition, starting March 4th.

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by | January 25, 2026 · 4:53 pm

From Struggle to Awe: A Pilgrimage of Transformation

“Be willing to be a beginner every single morning.” — Meister Eckhart

There was a time in my life when I believed I had to hold everything together by sheer work and effort. If I paused, I feared I would disappear. Only later did I begin to understand that disappearing was not the danger I imagined. It was, in fact, the return.

Life is something like a ripple on the ocean, momentarily appearing, briefly defined, then gently dissolving back into the vastness from which it came. The ripple feels separate while it lasts, yet it has never been anything other than the ocean. This simple image has accompanied me through many seasons of exhaustion, loss, and quiet awakening.

The mystics gave language to what I was slowly learning through experience. The 13th-century Mystic Meister Eckhart puts it into words: “The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.” If this is true, then separation is not the final truth of a lifetime.

When Separation Feels Real

For many years, separation felt very real to me. I lived on the surface—busy, capable, outwardly functional—while something deeper waited patiently. I now recognize how easily we mistake movement and activity for meaning. Eckhart’s warning feels almost tender in hindsight: “As long as you are seeking God, you are not yet aware that you have found Him.” I was always seeking, rarely resting.

The poet-mystic Rumi names this restlessness with compassion: “Why are you so busy with this or that or good or bad; pay attention to how things blend.” When you allow things to blend, you surrender to strength, vulnerability, certainty, and doubt, faith and the unknowing.

The Descent That Saved Me

My own turning point came not through achievement, but through fatigue. I had reached a place where distraction no longer worked. What emerged instead was a quiet invitation to walk—both literally and inwardly. An annual pilgrimage became my way of consenting to descent.

One day, on the Camino Primitivo in northwestern Spain, I found myself struggling up a steep mountain path amid darkness and driving rain. Each step felt heavy. The trail seemed endless, and my inner landscape matched the weather—tight, effortful, and discouraged.

Then, without warning, the heavens opened. The rain softened, the clouds lifted, and beneath me appeared a vast sea of clouds stretching all the way to the horizon. The shift was almost instantaneous. Within seconds, my mood changed completely. Where there had been struggle, there was awe. Where there had been resistance, there was gratitude.

I stood there, soaked and breathless, perceiving not only the incredible beauty of that moment, but the beauty of life itself. I felt truly blessed—not because anything had been solved, but because something had been revealed. I had crossed a threshold without even realizing it.

The Christian mystics speak of this movement without sentimentality. John of the Cross calls it “the dark night,” a phrase that once frightened me. Now I hear it differently: as a stripping away of the onion layers of what no longer carries life. What felt like loss was actually a clearing.

Living Lightly on the Surface

It is so easy to confuse your ripple with your worth. There is a deep need to be seen, to be heard, and to be validated. But it can create much pressure. Accept who you are with loving kindness, and the old burden of control is no longer that important. Meister Eckhart’s invitation is simply: “Let go of yourself and you will find yourself.” This letting go is a daily practice rather than a single event.

To live as a ripple is to accept impermanence without fear. To rest as the ocean is to trust belonging without proof. Somewhere between the two, a quieter wisdom emerges.

A Gentle Invitation

A Pilgrimage to New Beginnings grew out of this lived knowing. It is not about fixing what is broken, but about remembering what has never been lost. If these reflections echo something in your own life, you are warmly welcome to join.

The reservation window remains open for ten more days—not as an urgency, but as an invitation to step across a threshold.

The ripple does not need to earn its place in the ocean.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S. For those who feel drawn to explore this in-between season more intentionally, I am offering a six-week online course, Pilgrimage into New Beginnings. It is a quiet, reflective journey for times of transition, starting March 4th.

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by | January 18, 2026 · 5:05 pm

Beneath the Fire of Anger: Pain and Shame

Anger is loud. It dominates the public discourse, expressed through rigid political opinions, moral outrage, online conflict, and the tendency to assign blame. Yet anger is rarely the true starting point of these dynamics. More often, it signals quieter, more uncomfortable truths.

Emotions such as pain, shame, grief, and fear are harder to face, so they are frequently displaced outward into accusation, defensiveness, or righteous certainty.

Anger as a Protective Emotion

Psychologically, anger is a secondary emotion. It arises to protect from feelings that threaten the sense of self or safety. When something has hurt deeply, anger steps in as the defensive armour.

It says:

  • “I won’t feel this.”
  • “I won’t be small again.”
  • “I won’t be vulnerable.”

Anger gives energy, clarity, and a sense of control. Pain does not, and the vulnerability of accepting that pain is often seen as weakness.

The Quiet Tyranny of Shame

Shame whispers a devastating message: “Something is wrong with me.”
Not “I did something wrong,” but “I am wrong.”

When shame is unexamined, it often turns inward as harsh self-criticism or outward as blame. The inner voice becomes cruel:

  • “You’re weak.”
  • “You always fail.”
  • “You’re not enough.”

Over time, this negative self-talk becomes so familiar that it is mistaken for the truth. And because living under constant inner attack is unbearable, the psyche looks for relief—often by projecting the pain outward.

From Inner Critic to Outer Enemy

What you cannot tolerate within yourself is often seen in others.

This is where the blame game begins.

If the discomfort can be pinned on:

  • a partner,
  • a parent,
  • a political group or ideology

Then momentarily, the inner pressure eases. I am not the problem; they are.

On a societal level, this dynamic fuels grievance culture. Groups form around shared wounds and unresolved pain. Identity becomes fused with injury. Moral outrage offers belonging, clarity, and a sense of righteousness—but rarely healing.

Grievance gives meaning to suffering without requiring transformation.

The Cost of Living in Blame

While anger and blame may feel empowering in the short term, they come at a cost.

They:

  • keep you locked in reactivity,
  • harden the heart,
  • narrow perception,
  • and prevent genuine vulnerability

When life is organised around grievance, there is little room for growth, curiosity, compassion, or change. The nervous system remains in a constant state of threat, scanning for further injustice. The past is endlessly rehearsed. The future feels foreclosed.

And perhaps most painfully, the original wound—the pain or shame that started it all—remains untouched.

Turning Toward What Hurts

Healing begins not with suppressing anger, but with listening to it.

Anger often asks:

  • Where did I feel powerless?
  • What loss have I not grieved?
  • What part of me learned it was unsafe to feel?

Turning inward requires courage. It means slowing down enough to feel what was once overwhelming. It means replacing self-judgment with honest attention. It means learning to sit with discomfort without immediately assigning fault.

This is not passivity. It is a deeper form of responsibility.

From Reaction to Inner Authority

When pain and shame are acknowledged rather than exiled, something shifts. The inner critic softens. Anger loses its grip. Blame no longer feels necessary.

What emerges instead is inner authority—a grounded sense of self that does not need constant opposition to exist.

From this place:

  • Boundaries become clearer
  • Compassion becomes possible
  • Action becomes wiser.

A Different Kind of Strength

In a culture that rewards outrage and certainty, choosing self-examination can feel countercultural. Yet it is precisely this inner work that allows real resilience to grow during the storms of uncertainty.

Strength is not the absence of anger.
It is the willingness to meet what lies beneath it.

And in doing so, you begin to loosen the grip of pain, shame, and grievance—not just in yourself, but in the world you help shape through your presence.

When you dare to stay present to your wound and surrender to vulnerability, anger softens into grief, shame loosens into compassion, and blame gives way to responsibility. This is not a weakness. It is an elevation of consciousness—a movement of resurrection at the heart of human experience, revealed in the image of Jesus dying on the cross and rising into new life.

In a world fuelled by outrage and certainty, the cross stands as a quiet contradiction: pain can be faced, borne, and transformed without being passed on.

And in that transformation, something new becomes possible—not only for the soul, but for the world it touches.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S. For those who feel drawn to explore this in-between season more intentionally, I am offering a six-week online course, Pilgrimage into New Beginnings. It is a quiet, reflective journey for times of transition, starting March 4th.

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by | January 12, 2026 · 3:52 am

A world in transition: The in-between season

Times of transition, like those we are living through now, are often marked by chaos, uncertainty, and the unraveling of certainties that no longer hold. These in-between seasons can be deeply unsettling, yet they are also profoundly formative. More than ever, such times call for clarity of purpose and a conscious alignment with our core values and guiding principles.

During such seasons, the new has not yet taken shape. The ancient Chinese I Ching, or the Book of Change, offers timeless guidance for such moments. It does not promise quick solutions or firm ground. Instead, it teaches us how to live wisely while the ground is moving beneath our feet.

The new struggling to be born

At the heart of the I Ching is a simple truth: change is not an interruption of life. Chaos is not a mistake. It is often the sign that something new is struggling to be born.

In times of transition, the I Ching counsels restraint rather than force. The outer world feels increasingly unstable, with the individual feeling helpless amid external circumstances that cannot be controlled. Yet the I Ching invites us to turn toward inner alignment. Before you act, you are asked to listen. Before you decide, you are asked to become still enough to discern what truly matters.

Waiting is not passive resignation

These in-between seasons call for patience. The I Ching reminds us that timing is sacred. Action taken too soon can distort what is forming; action taken too late can miss the moment entirely. As the book puts it:

“Waiting. If you are sincere,
You have light and success.”
— I Ching, Hexagram 5

This waiting is not passive resignation. It is an active, attentive presence—a way of staying faithful to the process even when the outcome is not yet visible.

Discovering what genuinely sustains you

Integrity becomes the anchor in such times. When familiar supports fall away, you discover what genuinely sustains you. The I Ching repeatedly emphasizes that inner truth—not certainty, control, or speed—is what carries us through periods of upheaval. To remain faithful to what is essential within you is, in itself, a spiritual practice.

The book also teaches adaptability without self-betrayal. Like water, we are encouraged to yield without losing our depth, to respond without hardening, to move with change rather than against it. True transformation, it suggests, begins quietly, often invisibly, long before it takes form in the outer world.

Perhaps most importantly, the I Ching directs our attention away from grand solutions and back toward the small and the near:

  • The words we choose to speak
  • Listening with mindfulness
  • Caring for one another
  • Paying attention to the inner life and consciousness.

In times of uncertainty, it is these humble acts that carry the future.

The in-between is not a void. It is a threshold.

When we stop trying to escape it, fix it, or rush through it, we begin to sense its hidden gift. Something is loosening. Something is aligning. Something is quietly taking shape.

And the invitation is simple, though not easy: to become still enough to hear what this season of change is asking of you.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S. For those who feel drawn to explore this in-between season more intentionally, I am offering a six-week online course, Pilgrimage into New Beginnings. It is a quiet, reflective journey for times of transition, starting February 4th.

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by | December 8, 2025 · 10:51 am

Redefining Masculinity: Traits Young Men Need Today

It has become a common story: a mother quietly confesses that her 30-something son is still living at home, unemployed, spending most of his days in the basement playing PC games—while his sister is thriving on every level and living the life of her dreams.

Figures from the United States, the United Kingdom, and the European Union reflect a rising trend: an estimated one in five men over 30 still lives in the parental home. Meanwhile, 63 per cent of men aged 18–29 are single, while women are surpassing their male counterparts in both education and income.

My recent Blog post on “Young Men: Angry, Isolated and Armed” touched a nerve because it captured something unfolding quietly but urgently: amid a growing mental-health crisis, young men are withdrawing into isolation or channelling their shame and frustration into outdated, hyper-aggressive role models, many of them fueled by right-wing extremist groups.

Technological and cultural shifts have opened unprecedented opportunities for young women—changes that their mothers and grandmothers could only dream of. Equal opportunity and equal pay were long overdue. But the traditional image of masculinity as the stoic provider, unflinching warrior, emotional brick wall, no longer fits into a modern world in which connection, communication, and adaptability matter more than ever.

So what are young women seeking in a partner today? And how do we define healthy masculinity in this new landscape?

Across many studies, three traits consistently appear as the most desired qualities in a long-term partner: kindness, intelligence, and confidence. They are foundational to stable relationships, but they are also widely misunderstood.

Kindness is not passivity or people-pleasing. It is emotional steadiness, especially in times of struggle or pain. It shows up in how a man treats others, especially family members, friends, and strangers. Men high in kindness respond to stress with calm problem-solving rather than withdrawal or aggression. Kindness begins with self-respect; young men must learn to accept and care for themselves before that inner stability can radiate outward.

Intelligence is not about high IQ scores or academic pedigree. It is the ability to navigate life with self-awareness, adaptability, and emotional understanding. Intelligent partners can manage their emotions, communicate clearly, listen actively, and reflect honestly on their own behaviour. They do not hide behind logic to avoid vulnerability or connection.

Confidence is perhaps the most misinterpreted trait of all. True confidence is quiet, grounded self-assurance—not the loud, performative “alpha” posturing that dominates so much online discourse. Confident men know who they are and do not need to brag, dominate, or seek constant validation. They can have difficult conversations without collapsing into defensiveness. They avoid unnecessary conflict—not from fear, but from maturity. This is where healthy masculine strength shows its true form: protective, steady, and principled.

These three traits aren’t random. Together, they form the bedrock of a healthy long-term relationship: a partner who is emotionally safe, self-aware, capable of repair, and stable during conflict.

To make this more tangible, here are some widely recognised men in entertainment who are publicly perceived as embodying kindness, intelligence, or confidence, while acknowledging we cannot know their private lives:

Keanu Reeves is often cited as the gold standard of humble, grounded kindness, giving generously without seeking credit. Tom Hanks represents steadiness and emotional warmth and is seen as approachable and gracious.

Ethan Hawke, symbolises intelligence as a deeply reflective and thoughtful artist. He writes books, directs films and speaks creatively with nuance. John Krasinski balances his humour with intelligent storytelling.

Men who symbolize grounded confidence are Idris Elba with a calm, steady presence and Mahershala Ali (Green Book) who embodies a quiet power and self-assurance.

The crisis facing young men today is not simply about a lack of economic opportunity; it is a crisis of identity. As society rapidly evolves, many young men are left without a clear model of what it means to be strong, successful, and valued in today’s world. But the path forward is not found in nostalgia for outdated roles or in reactionary anger. It lies in cultivating traits that make relationships—and communities—thrive: kindness, intelligence, and confidence grounded in self-awareness rather than ego.

If young men can embrace these qualities, they won’t just meet the expectations of a fast-changing world—they will exceed them. And in doing so, they will rediscover a masculinity that is not lost, but evolving: resilient, emotionally present, relationally strong, and profoundly needed.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.

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by | December 1, 2025 · 9:45 am

Transforming Pain: Cultivating True Gratitude

You may find yourself in the midst of one of life’s more challenging chapters marked by grief, uncertainty, or loss. Then, as if on cue, a well-meaning friend offers the familiar advice: “Just be grateful.” In that moment, you might feel an angry urge to say: “You don’t understand.” And the weight grows heavier when you begin comparing your life to those who seem happier, wealthier, healthier, or younger, as if their brightness somehow dims your own.

But here’s the deeper truth: you cannot silence authentic emotions such as sadness, despair, or fear by layering them with forced gratitude. Emotional honesty is not weakness; it’s the foundation of healing. Gratitude only becomes meaningful when it arises from a place of full acceptance and when you allow yourself to feel everything that is part of you without self-judgment.

“I am feeling sad. I am disappointed. I am angry. And still, there are things I can be grateful for.”

This is where healing begins. When you make a habit of connecting the dots between past experiences and present growth, you start to see a deeper pattern.

There comes that quiet reassurance that the universe has always had your back. Even the darkest moments often conceal unexpected blessings, pushing you to tap into inner reserves of strength and begin anew.

I’ve lived through many moments of profound despair, and I suspect you have too. Relationship breakdowns, the untimely loss of loved ones, financial setbacks, and health scares. Yet in hindsight, these painful milestones have often marked the beginning of something transformative.

Technologically, humanity has made extraordinary progress in recent decades. But this advancement has come at a steep personal and environmental cost. Our lives today are faster, more connected, and paradoxically more stressed. We have more time than any generation before us, and yet time has become our most precious, elusive commodity.

This revolution forces us to confront an ancient question:

What truly makes you content and fulfilled?

The thrill of a shiny new object fades quickly. What endures is meaning and purpose.

Every extreme carries within it the seed of renewal. The technological age has amplified our left-brain — analytical, data-driven, “spreadsheet” thinking — while the right-brain, our intuitive, creative, and spiritual side, remains undernourished. Yet it is this neglected dimension that holds the key to balance.

We are not just rational beings. We are playful, imaginative, soulful creatures. Reclaiming that part of the self — and integrating both hemispheres of the mind — is the challenge of our time. Just because you are going through a dark chapter, doesn’t mean you cannot have a beautiful life. Peace comes from going all in on accepting yourself and building on the habits and tools that elevate healing and growth.

How can I do a reset?

Begin with small, intentional rituals that reconnect you to gratitude — not as a forced emotion, but as a recognition and acceptance of life’s complexity and beauty. Here are three daily practices to help you cultivate authentic gratitude:

Morning Reflection

Before reaching for your phone, take three minutes to sit quietly and ask: What is one thing I’m grateful for today — even if it’s small? It could be the warmth of a comfortable bed, the sound of birds, or simply waking up and still being alive, perhaps thanking God, or the universe for a new day.

Gratitude Journal

Each evening, write down three things that brought you comfort, joy, or insight — even if the day was difficult. Over time, this builds a reservoir of perspective and emotional resilience.

Sharing Gratitude

Make it a daily practice to express appreciation — whether through a heartfelt compliment, a sincere thank-you, or a simple kind word. When you share in someone else’s joy or gratitude, you amplify it. Gratitude shared is gratitude multiplied, and it deepens the bonds that connect us.

These rituals aren’t about denying pain or pretending everything is fine. They’re about honouring the full spectrum of your experience while gently creating space for light to return. Gratitude, when rooted in truth, becomes a quiet but potent force for healing, resilience, and renewal.

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘thank you,’ it will be enough.”
— Meister Eckhart

This simple yet profound reminder by the great 13th-century Mystic invites you to see gratitude as a way of being and a sacred thread that weaves through joy and sorrow alike, anchoring you in the beauty of presence and opening to grace.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.

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by | November 24, 2025 · 8:29 am

Ancestry And The Power of Family Connections

I’ve just returned from a visit to my home country, South Africa, where I spent precious time with my family. In the early 1970s, my grandparents expressed a simple but profound wish: that all siblings and grandchildren gather in one place at least once a year. Remarkably, that tradition has held steady across five decades—interrupted only briefly during the COVID-19 lockdown.

In Africa, as in many traditional cultures, honoring ancestral lineage is a living practice woven into the fabric of family life.

This visit reminded me how deeply our sense of belonging is shaped by the stories, sacrifices, and silent loyalties held within our ancestral line. Knowing where we come from brings coherence to our life story. It roots us not only in a biological lineage but in a web of relationships that existed long before we were born. We carry within us more than DNA. We inherit emotional imprints, unfinished business, unspoken family secrets, but also the resilience, courage, and wisdom of those who walked before us.

Strong scientific research suggests that emotional trauma can leave detectable “marks” on our DNA via epigenetic mechanisms. One of the most well-known studies conducted in this field is by Rachel Yehuda, who analysed DNA from Holocaust victims and their children and grandchildren.

Another powerful therapeutic method in understanding inheritance from past generations is Family Constellations, developed by Bert Hellinger. Family Constellations in a therapeutic setting reveal that each one of us is part of a larger “family soul,” where the fates of earlier generations continue to echo through the lives of the living. Unresolved trauma, exclusion, or injustice in previous generations often resurfaces, seeking recognition. Not out of punishment, but out of love—an unconscious loyalty to those who were forgotten, silenced, or burdened.

Acknowledging the Past

Honouring lineage, therefore, is not about idealizing the past. It is about acknowledging it truthfully. When we make space for the full story—including the painful chapters—we interrupt patterns that no longer serve us. Family Constellations teaches that healing begins when everyone in the family system is given a rightful place, when nothing is denied, and when love can flow freely again.

My own family history bears the marks of migration, political upheaval, cultural transformation, and questions of faith stretching across continents and centuries. There are chapters full of courage and hope, and others marked by sorrow, loss, and difficult choices. These stories live in me. They shape my worldview, my fears, my strengths, and even the questions I wrestle with spiritually.

Understanding our lineage reveals patterns that help us connect with purpose, destiny, and meaning. It doesn’t require us to condone the failures or blind spots of previous generations, but to see them within the consciousness of their time. Every generation faces its own challenges and limitations. By acknowledging this, we free ourselves from repeating what no longer belongs to us and reclaim the gifts that do.

In a world where identity feels increasingly fragmented and dislocated, returning to our ancestral roots offers rootedness and sanctuary. A reminder that we are part of a much larger story—one that began long before us and will continue to echo long after we have gone.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.

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by | November 17, 2025 · 3:19 pm

Your Superpower in a Loud Society

„Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.”— Aristotle

Standing guard at the doorway of your mind has become essential to maintaining spiritual and mental health in an age where our minds are drowning in information but thirsting for wisdom.

What you feed your mind, you ultimately become. A few careless minutes scrolling on your smartphone can trigger a cascade of emotions that can shape your entire day.

If you are reading this, you are likely one of the few who is actively reflecting on what is happening to us collectively.

Conflict and social disruption will always be part of the human condition—we are imperfect beings, after all. But we also carry within us the profound power of choice.

When the fringe becomes the megaphone

My impression is that the darker impulses of humanity are being amplified through the very technology meant to connect us. Fanatical fringe groups and those consumed by malice spend countless hours attacking others with hate-filled messages. Social media companies do little to halt this simply because emotionally charged content fuels engagement—and engagement fuels profit.

We may believe we are in control of what enters our minds, but for most people this is not true. Social media and search engine algorithms quietly track our behavior and serve up the content we are most likely to consume. In doing so, they shape not only our preferences, but our thinking.

Echo chambers of belief

Beliefs and opinions are constantly being reaffirmed within separate realities—information bubbles where each group hears only the echoes of its own worldview. Families, friendships, communities, and even congregations are fracturing along these invisible but powerful dividing lines.

What we need is a collective pushback from the quiet majority: the rational, thoughtful, grounded people who do not fall for emotional manipulation. That resistance begins by asking simple but profound questions:

Is this information expanding my energy or diminishing it?

Is it helping me grow, evolve, and reach my full potential?

A common misconception is that knowledge, information, and education alone equal wisdom. Yet many highly intelligent people refuse to learn from their mistakes, cling to fixed mindsets, and resist deeper reflection—never realizing they have been backing the wrong horse all along.

The power of who and what you surround yourself with

True wisdom is innate knowledge shaped through experience. It is the quiet confidence of intuition and higher consciousness. When you choose to surround yourself with wise friends, nourish your mind with spiritual teachings, and seek guidance from grounded mentors, you naturally grow in wisdom.

Equally essential is practicing self-care by setting firm boundaries with people, media, and environments that deplete your mind, body, and soul. Self-care is not indulgence—it is alignment. It is taking time for silence, contemplation, and reconnection with your inner life.

Choosing this path gradually fills your life with greater happiness and contentment because you begin building a bridge to your soul. Your actions shift from serving the ego to serving the greater whole.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.

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by | November 3, 2025 · 2:42 pm

Regression or Awakening?

Is humanity sliding back into conflict and cultural regression or are we standing at the threshold of, an era of peace, prosperity, and progress on every level?

I’ve been reading The Changing World Order by Ray Dalio, whose research into the cyclical rise and fall of empires is both sobering and fascinating. History, it’s said, never repeats itself—but patterns do. And for thousands of years, they have shaped the destiny of nations and civilizations.

Today, we find ourselves in a remarkable moment. Humanity is literally creating a parallel intelligence through AI—an evolution that will profoundly transform our world. Since the 19th century, the global economy has gone through repeated waves of disruption, followed by bursts of innovation and rapid growth.

According to Dalio, those who recognize these cycles early tend to emerge stronger, while those clinging to the past often struggle. History shows that generations shaped by hardship and resilience create wealth and progress—only for their descendants, raised in comfort, to grow complacent and begin the downward turn. The result? Rising inequality, social unrest, political polarization, and eventual fragmentation. Sound familiar?

The good news, as Dalio notes, is that downward cycles tend to be shorter than the long upward phases of creativity, optimism, and expansion. Each decline, though painful, clears the way for renewal.

So how can we prepare on a personal level?

Embrace change. Disruption is often a cleansing force, clearing the old to make space for the new. Shift your mindset. See the universe as working for you, not against you. Trust the seasons. Nature teaches us that endings are never final—they are part of a larger rhythm of rebirth and growth.

If we learn to move with the current rather than resist it, we may discover that what looks like decline is really transformation. Go with the flow of the river—and you’ll find yourself carried forward into the next great awakening.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.

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