Tag Archives: spirituality

Finding Wisdom Through Complexity

On a recent visit to the Horniman Museum and Gardens in London, I found myself pausing at the entrance. Set into the façade is a compelling mosaic, almost easy to overlook. Created by Robert Anning Bell at the turn of the twentieth century, it feels less like decoration and more like a question posed across time. Its message lands with particular force in a world where volume substitutes for depth, where opinions harden into slogans, and identities calcify into positions that leave little room for movement.

In Humanity in the House of Circumstance, a central figure—Humanity —is gently attended by Love and Hope. Standing before it, I was struck by how quietly subversive this image is. It does not present us as self-made or self-sufficient, but as shaped—formed in relationship, in dependence, in the interplay between our inner lives and the limits that surround us.

And yet, the instinct is to simplify and to reach for fixed categories. What feels unfamiliar, unsettling, or threatening is quickly reduced, flattened into binaries: for or against, right or wrong, aligned or opposed. In doing so, something essential is lost.

Nuance in such a climate is perceived as weakness and the inability to “take a stand.” Yet, in truth, nuance is a deeper form of strength and wisdom.

To hold nuance is to allow multiple perspectives to coexist within the mind without rushing to premature judgment. It is the discipline of pausing before concluding, of listening not just to respond but to understand. Where dogmatism seeks closure, nuance remains open—curious, attentive, and alive to the subtleties of reality.

Humanity tended by Love and Hope
Humanity tended by Love and Hope

Rigid thinking serves psychological needs:

  • Certainty offers comfort. The world feels unpredictable and filled with contradictions. Dogmatic beliefs simplify this chaos into something manageable. They provide a sense of control, even when that control is illusory.
  • Identity and Ego play a powerful role. Beliefs are often tied to who you believe yourself to be, rooted in culture, community, or personal history. To question those beliefs can feel like questioning who you are. Dogmatism becomes a form of self-protection.
  • There is a social reward. Strong, uncompromising opinions are amplified on social media. Nuanced thinking, by contrast, appears hesitant or indecisive and doesn’t translate into viral soundbites.

Something essential is lost when we abandon nuance.

To think with nuance is not to drift aimlessly between opinions. It is an active, often demanding process. It requires intellectual humility and the recognition that your understanding is always a partial perspective. No matter how informed you are, there will always be an angle you have not considered.

When you allow conflicting ideas into your awareness, you may feel tension, even discomfort. Dogmatism relieves that tension quickly by choosing a side. Nuance asks you to stay with it longer, to let the mind stretch rather than snap into certainty.

It also requires empathy. To truly weigh different perspectives, you must enter into the worldview of others. This does not mean agreement. It means understanding the logic, the fears, and the hopes that shape another position.

Nuance as a Path to Wisdom

Wisdom is not the accumulation of facts alone, but the ability to discern, to contextualize, and to integrate. Nuance is its foundation.

Consider any complex issue—whether personal, political, or spiritual. Beneath the surface, there are layers: historical context, emotional undercurrents, competing values, and unintended consequences. Dogmatic thinking tends to isolate one layer and elevate it above all others. Nuance, by contrast, seeks to see the whole.

This does not lead to paralysis. On the contrary, decisions made with nuance are often more grounded and enduring. They are less reactive, less driven by fear or tribal loyalty, and more aligned with a deeper understanding of reality.

The Courage to Resist Simplicity

It requires courage in resisting the pull of simplicity. It is easier to adopt a ready-made belief than to wrestle with complexity. Easier to echo the consensus of one’s group than to risk standing in a more ambiguous space.

In a world that grows louder and more polarized, the practice of nuance becomes not just a personal virtue, but a social necessity. It creates space for dialogue where there would otherwise be division. It invites curiosity where there might be judgment. It allows us to meet one another not as adversaries, but as participants in a shared search for understanding.

Returning to a Deeper Way of Seeing

At its heart, nuance is an act of respect for complexity, for truth, and for the dignity of perspectives that differ from your own. It requires you to slow down when the world urges you to run, to listen when you are tempted to react, and to think with care rather than certainty.

Standing before Humanity in the House of Circumstance at the Horniman Museum and Gardens, this feels less like an abstract ideal and more like an invitation. The mosaic does not resolve the tensions of life; it holds them. It is a powerful reminder that we are shaped not only by what we believe, but by how we remain open to Love, to Hope, and to the limits within which we live.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

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

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Filed under happiness, mental health, psychology

Karma and Grace: How Your Actions Shape Reality Beyond Fate

Karma, much like forgiveness, is one of the most misunderstood concepts in the spiritual world. It is often reduced to a simplistic notion of fate, something predetermined, inevitable, and beyond your control. But this interpretation strips it of its real power and your divine purpose.

In a recent conversation on my LivingToBe podcast with Buddhist teacher and author Ann Tashi Slater, we explored a deeper and far more empowering understanding. In the Buddhist tradition, karma is not destiny. It is taking intentional action, and the ripple effects those actions create over time.

This shifts everything.

Rather than seeing life as something that “happens to you,” karma invites you to recognize that we are constantly participating in the shaping of our own reality. Every thought, every word, every action plants a seed. And those seeds, given time and conditions, bear fruit.

This is where agency enters.

If karma were fixed, we would be trapped in a script already written. But karma is dynamic. It unfolds in the present moment. And that means the present moment is always a point of power.

You are not just living out past causes; you are inevitably generating new ones.

A Christian Mystical Parallel

Interestingly, this understanding is not foreign to the Christian mystical tradition. While the word karma is not used, the principle of cause and effect appears in several profound ways.

Meister Eckhart spoke about the inner orientation of the soul as the determining factor of one’s experience of God and reality. It is not external circumstances, but your state of being that shapes what unfolds.

Similarly, St. John of the Cross emphasized that choices do matter. Purification and transformation come through conscious participation—through surrender but also through intentional alignment with divine love, kindness, and compassion.

In the New Testament, the principle is stated with striking clarity: “As you sow, so shall you reap” (Galatians 6:7). This is, in essence, a karmic law, not to be seen as punishment, but as a reflection of the deep coherence of creation.

From this perspective, karma or what is often misunderstood in Christian terms as sin, is not a cosmic bookkeeping system of reward and punishment. It is a spiritual practise and the evolving of consciousness.

From Victimhood to Participation

The misunderstanding of karma as fate often leads to passivity, shame, or even quiet despair:


“This is just my karma.”
“This is how things are meant to be.”

But a more accurate understanding empowers, restores responsibility, and possibility.

If your present circumstances are influenced by past causes, then your present actions are shaping your future experience.

This does not mean everything is controllable. Life is inevitably unpredictable, with waymarkers of loss, sadness, happiness, bliss, and mystery. But it does mean that how you respond is never predetermined.

And that response is itself karmically potent.

This is where karma and forgiveness meet.

Forgiveness interrupts cycles. It dissolves patterns that would otherwise continue repeating. In karmic terms, it is the conscious decision not to perpetuate a particular chain of cause and effect.

It is an act of profound spiritual authorship.

The Transformative Shift

To understand karma in this way is to move from a passive to an active relationship with life.

You are no longer merely the result of what has been.
You are a participant in what is becoming.

Each moment becomes an invitation:
What am I creating now?
What seeds am I planting?

Even the smallest shift in awareness can spark a new choice.
And a single new choice can begin to reshape your entire life.

You are not here to be carried by circumstance and fate. You are here to participate, to create, to transform.

Pause. Notice. Choose consciously.

The life you are living tomorrow begins with the action you take today.

Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast

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

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Filed under gratitude, happiness research, spirituality

Does God Punish Humanity? Lessons from the Black Death and Modern Pandemics

When disaster strikes on a massive scale, people instinctively ask the same ancient question:

Is this God’s judgment?

It is a question that has echoed throughout human history.

In the 14th century, as the Black Death swept across Europe, entire populations believed they were witnessing divine punishment. Churches filled with desperate prayers. Some people turned toward deeper faith. Others lost their faith entirely.

Centuries later, during the COVID-19 pandemic, that same question quietly resurfaced.

What happens to faith when the world believes God’s judgment has arrived?

Fear, Faith, and the Flagellants

During the Black Death, fear spread as quickly as the disease itself. Many believed the plague was a punishment for humanity’s sins.

Across Europe, bands of penitents known as flagellants marched from town to town, whipping themselves in public acts of penance. They believed that if humanity suffered enough, God might show mercy.

Crowds gathered to watch them.

Some saw them as holy reformers.

Others saw them as dangerous fanatics.

It was faith under extreme pressure.

The Quiet Courage of Compassion

Yet there was another response to the plague.

While many fled cities in terror, others stayed behind to care for the sick and dying. Monks, nuns, and priests often remained when everyone else ran.

Historians estimate that in some regions nearly half the clergy died while caring for plague victims.

For these people, faith did not mean explaining suffering.

Faith meant standing beside those who suffered.

When Catastrophe Shakes Belief

But the plague also shook belief at its foundations.

People began asking difficult questions:

  • Why would a loving God allow such devastation?
  • Why did the devout die alongside the corrupt?
  • Why did prayers not stop the disease?

These questions gradually reshaped Europe’s intellectual landscape, eventually contributing to major religious transformations, including the Protestant Reformation.

Faith did not disappear.

But it began to evolve.

How Faith Responds to Crisis

History shows that when a catastrophe strikes, faith often moves in three different directions.

Some people become more rigid and fearful, searching for certainty in times of chaos.

Others lose faith entirely, unable to reconcile suffering with belief in a loving God.

And some discover a deeper, quieter faith—one rooted not in easy answers, but in compassion, humility, and solidarity with others.

What Did Jesus Say About Suffering?

In the teachings of Jesus Christ, suffering is rarely presented as punishment directed at specific individuals.

Instead, suffering often becomes an invitation to reflect on how we live and how we treat one another.

The focus shifts away from blame and toward compassion, mercy, and moral transformation.

The Inspiration Behind Sages, Saints and Sinners

These were the questions that fascinated me when I began writing my historical novel Sages, Saints and Sinners.

I wanted to explore what happens to ordinary people when the world around them collapses and they believe that God’s judgment has arrived.

In many ways, the questions raised during the recent pandemic helped inspire that exploration.

Set during the Black Death, Sages, Saints and Sinners explores love, faith, and spiritual conflict in the midst of an existential crisis.

What do people hold onto when everything begins to collapse?

The novel tells a story of faith, doubt, and forbidden love in a time when many believed the end of the world had come.

If these questions intrigue you, you may enjoy the novel that grew out of them.

Sages, Saints and Sinners is available on Amazon, and all good bookshops.

What Pandemics Reveal About Us

History reminds us that pandemics do more than challenge our health.

They challenge our beliefs.
They challenge our assumptions.
And they challenge our understanding of God.

Perhaps the deepest question is not whether suffering is punishment.

Perhaps the real question is this:

Do moments of crisis invite us to rediscover compassion, courage, and faith?

Reino Gevers – Author – Mentor –Speaker

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

Leave a comment

Filed under purpose, religion, spirituality

Does God Punish Humanity? Lessons from the Black Death and Modern Pandemics

When disaster strikes on a massive scale, people instinctively ask the same ancient question:

Is this God’s judgment?

It is a question that has echoed throughout human history.

In the 14th century, as the Black Death swept across Europe, entire populations believed they were witnessing divine punishment. Churches filled with desperate prayers. Some people turned toward deeper faith. Others lost their faith entirely.

Centuries later, during the COVID-19 pandemic, that same question quietly resurfaced.

What happens to faith when the world believes God’s judgment has arrived?

Fear, Faith, and the Flagellants

During the Black Death, fear spread as quickly as the disease itself. Many believed the plague was a punishment for humanity’s sins.

Across Europe, bands of penitents known as flagellants marched from town to town, whipping themselves in public acts of penance. They believed that if humanity suffered enough, God might show mercy.

Crowds gathered to watch them.

Some saw them as holy reformers.

Others saw them as dangerous fanatics.

It was faith under extreme pressure.

The Quiet Courage of Compassion

Yet there was another response to the plague.

While many fled cities in terror, others stayed behind to care for the sick and dying. Monks, nuns, and priests often remained when everyone else ran.

Historians estimate that in some regions nearly half the clergy died while caring for plague victims.

For these people, faith did not mean explaining suffering.

Faith meant standing beside those who suffered.

When Catastrophe Shakes Belief

But the plague also shook belief at its foundations.

People began asking difficult questions:

  • Why would a loving God allow such devastation?
  • Why did the devout die alongside the corrupt?
  • Why did prayers not stop the disease?

These questions gradually reshaped Europe’s intellectual landscape, eventually contributing to major religious transformations, including the Protestant Reformation.

Faith did not disappear.

But it began to evolve.

How Faith Responds to Crisis

History shows that when a catastrophe strikes, faith often moves in three different directions.

Some people become more rigid and fearful, searching for certainty in times of chaos.

Others lose faith entirely, unable to reconcile suffering with belief in a loving God.

And some discover a deeper, quieter faith—one rooted not in easy answers, but in compassion, humility, and solidarity with others.

What Did Jesus Say About Suffering?

In the teachings of Jesus Christ, suffering is rarely presented as punishment directed at specific individuals.

Instead, suffering often becomes an invitation to reflect on how we live and how we treat one another.

The focus shifts away from blame and toward compassion, mercy, and moral transformation.

The Inspiration Behind Sages, Saints and Sinners

These were the questions that fascinated me when I began writing my historical novel Sages, Saints and Sinners.

I wanted to explore what happens to ordinary people when the world around them collapses and they believe that God’s judgment has arrived.

In many ways, the questions raised during the recent pandemic helped inspire that exploration.

Set during the Black Death, Sages, Saints and Sinners explores love, faith, and spiritual conflict in the midst of an existential crisis.

What do people hold onto when everything begins to collapse?

The novel tells a story of faith, doubt, and forbidden love in a time when many believed the end of the world had come.

If these questions intrigue you, you may enjoy the novel that grew out of them.

Sages, Saints and Sinners is available on Amazon, and all good bookshops.

What Pandemics Reveal About Us

History reminds us that pandemics do more than challenge our health.

They challenge our beliefs.
They challenge our assumptions.
And they challenge our understanding of God.

Perhaps the deepest question is not whether suffering is punishment.

Perhaps the real question is this:

Do moments of crisis invite us to rediscover compassion, courage, and faith?

Reino Gevers – Author – Mentor –Speaker

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

Leave a comment

Filed under purpose, religion, spirituality

Understanding Forgiveness and Why it Matters

The Christian concept of forgiveness, especially the teaching of Jesus to “love your enemy as yourself”, is often deeply misunderstood. For many people, the idea sounds almost impossible. Is it truly possible to forgive someone who has committed a grave injustice against you? What about perpetrators of horrific crimes such as abuse or violence?

These questions strike at the heart of one of the most difficult teachings in the spiritual tradition.

The art of forgiveness, practiced in its deepest sense, may be one of the hardest challenges. Yet there is a profound truth behind it: holding onto resentment, anger, or hatred toward someone who has harmed you can gradually bind you to the very negativity you are trying to resist. When your thoughts become consumed by the wrong committed against you, you are running the real risk of becoming emotionally entangled with the same destructive energy.

Forgiveness is not primarily about the other person. It is about the soul’s inner liberation and what Jesus really meant in his Sermon of the Mount.

What Jesus Actually Meant

When Jesus spoke about loving one’s enemies, he was not advocating passive submission to injustice or asking victims to excuse evil. His teachings were aimed at something deeper: the transformation of the human heart.

Jesus challenges humanity to step out of the cycle of retaliation and hatred that defines so many conflicts. Violence and revenge create an endless chain reaction in which each generation inherits the anger of the previous one.

The teaching to “love your enemies” is essentially an invitation to break that chain.

Forgiveness does not deny that a crime or injustice occurred. Rather, it prevents the injury from defining your life or the collective life of a nation.

The Wisdom of the Mystics

Christian mystics and sages throughout history have interpreted forgiveness in this deeper psychological and spiritual sense.

Mystics understood that resentment is not only a moral issue but also a spiritual and emotional burden carried within the human psyche. When you cling to hatred, you imprison yourself in a narrative that continually reopens old wounds.

For the mystics, forgiveness was therefore a form of inner freedom.

It meant releasing the emotional poison associated with the memory of an injustice. It meant refusing to allow the actions of another person to dictate the state of your soul.

The great medieval mystic Meister Eckhart spoke often about the necessity of inner detachment as the path to spiritual freedom. In one of his teachings, he wrote:

“All that God asks you most pressingly is to go out of yourself… and let God be God in you.”

Eckhart’s insight points to something profound. As long as you cling to resentment, anger, and the stories of your injuries, you remain trapped within the narrow confines of the wounded ego. Forgiveness, in the mystical sense, is a form of letting go of that inner prison.

This does not mean denying pain or pretending that something terrible did not happen. Rather, it is the conscious decision not to let bitterness shape your identity.

The Cycle of Revenge

History offers countless examples of how easily the oppressed can become the next oppressors when resentment, hate, or retribution goes unchecked.

The Iranian revolutionaries who overthrew the Shah in 1979 executed thousands. Revolutionary movements in France, Russia, and China promised liberation, yet often unleashed new waves of brutality under figures such as Lenin and Mao Zedong. The white Afrikaners in South Africa, who once suffered under British colonial rule, became oppressors themselves during the apartheid regime.

The same pattern can occur on a deeply personal level. The abused child may grow into an abusive adult. The daughter of an alcoholic parent may later struggle with addiction herself.

These tragic cycles demonstrate how unprocessed trauma and resentment can replicate the very behavior that once caused suffering.

Breaking this cycle requires more than justice alone. It requires inner transformation.

Forgiveness Is Not Reconciliation

One of the greatest misconceptions about forgiveness is the belief that it means excusing wrongdoing or restoring a relationship with the offender.

It does not.

Forgiveness does not require you to trust someone who has proven untrustworthy. It does not mean returning to a harmful relationship. Nor does it mean denying the need for justice or accountability.

Forgiveness simply means releasing the toxic emotional hold that the past may still have over you.

You may never see the person who harmed you again. They may even be long deceased. Yet the anger, shame, or pain connected to that experience can remain alive within you.

Forgiveness allows you to reclaim your inner space.

The Health of the Body and Mind

Modern research increasingly confirms what spiritual teachers have long suggested. Studies indicate that forgiveness can reduce chronic stress, lower blood pressure, and improve heart health.

The body and mind are deeply interconnected. Long-term resentment keeps the nervous system in a state of tension and vigilance, while forgiveness can help restore emotional balance and calm.

In this sense, forgiveness is not only a spiritual act—it is also an act of self-care.

A Journey, Not a Moment

Forgiveness is rarely a single decision made once and for all. It is often a gradual process that unfolds over time.

Sometimes you may believe you have forgiven someone, only to discover years later that a certain remark from a colleague or a supervisor unexpectedly triggers a disproportionate emotional reaction. In that moment, you realize that part of the original wound is still alive.

Such moments are not failures. They are invitations to continue the process of healing.

Forgiveness requires courage because it forces you to confront your own inner shadows—the pain, anger, and vulnerability you would often prefer to avoid.

Three Practical Steps Toward Forgiveness

Forgiveness is rarely a single moment of decision. More often, it is a gradual inner practice that unfolds over time. These three simple steps can help begin that process.

  • Acknowledge the Wound
    Forgiveness begins with honesty. Recognize the pain, anger, or betrayal you experienced without minimizing it. Suppressed emotions inevitably resurface later in unexpected ways. Naming the wound through reflection, prayer, or journaling helps bring it into the light.
  • Release the Grip of Resentment
    Forgiveness means choosing not to let the offense and grievance control your inner life. It does not excuse the wrongdoing or remove the need for justice. Rather, it is the decision to stop feeding the resentment and to free yourself from the emotional hold of the past. Meditation and breathing exercises that help focus the mind on the beauty and abundance of the present moment are useful tools.
  • Turn Pain Into Insight
    Over time, difficult experiences can deepen wisdom and compassion. Forgiveness allows the wound to become a source of understanding rather than a lifelong burden. The event remains part of your story, but it no longer defines your life or identity.

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under humanity, mental health, psychology

Protecting Your Energy and Your Purpose

I will begin with something that I had to painfully realize: Love without boundaries is not love. It is self‑abandonment.
Healthy boundaries are self‑respect in action. They are the quiet courage to say: This is my space.
A space I need to protect my emotional and spiritual well‑being so I can care deeply, give generously, and feel fully.

But here’s the subtle truth: boundary crossings rarely begin with something dramatic. They often start softly, almost imperceptibly. An “energy vampire” is not necessarily a bad person. Most of the time, they simply haven’t learned to honor boundaries — neither yours nor their own. They often struggle with low self‑esteem and, therefore, seek constant validation, reassurance, and emotional reciprocity.

The challenge is that spending time with such people leaves you feeling heavy, drained, or strangely unsettled. Your clarity fades, your energy dips, and your inner balance becomes harder to access.

Awareness is the first boundary

Pay attention to your body. Your nervous system rarely lies, giving you the perfect feedback loop on what people suck you dry and who nurtures and energizes you. It sometimes starts with the person who enters the room. Do I relax and feel a warm energy fill my body, or am I looking at ways to escape as soon as possible?

The first step is saying “no”. It is, for most of us, the hardest thing to do because we are social beings hard-wired to get along with our fellow human beings. Subconsciously, we fear being rejected, isolated, and even betrayed when saying “no.” But here is the thing: Saying “no” is saying “yes” to something else. It is a “yes” to presence, dignity, and self-respect. You owe nobody endless access to your time, energy, and emotional availability. Boundaries do not require justification. They require conviction.

It takes practice, and all comes down to how you say it: Here are some examples

  • “That doesn’t work for me.”
  • “I’m not available.”
  • “I need time to think about that.”
  • “No, thank you.”

What Nurtures My Energy? What Depletes My Energy?

Before you can even set healthy boundaries, you must be aware of your own needs, as well as where you are the person crossing the boundaries of others. Clarity creates responsibility. Once you know what nourishes you, it becomes your sacred task to protect it. Take a time out to reflect on what nurtures and what depletes your energy:

  • Silence or prayer?
  • Nature and walking?
  • Deep conversations?
  • Creative expression?
  • Time alone?
  • Physical movement?
What depletes my energy?
  • Information overload
  • Conflict?
  • Multitasking?
  • Negative environments?
  • Being responsible for everyone’s emotions?

Protecting Your Inner Space

Your inner world is sacred ground. Not every opinion deserves entry. Not every demand deserves a response. Not every crisis deserves your involvement. To protect your inner space:

  • Pause before responding. You can say: I need time to think about that
  • When is guilt not love driving your choice?
  • Create a daily grounding ritual that anchors you

Certainty does not mean rigidity.
It means knowing who you are.

Grounding practices may include:

  • Conscious slow breathing
  • Placing your feet firmly on the floor and noticing contact
  • Naming what you feel without judging it
  • Deep Walking in nature
  • Returning to faith when uncertainty arises

A Final Reflection

Setting healthy boundaries is an act of spiritual practice. It is the decision to stop outsourcing your worth. It is choosing integrity over approval. It is trusting that the right relationships will honor your limits. Boundaries do not push love away.
They make real love possible.

And perhaps the most important question is this:

Where in my life do I need to choose self-respect over fear?

That is where your next boundary is waiting.

To quote the mystic Teresa of Ávila:

“Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing;
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.”

If you are currently finding yourself at 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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Filed under meditation, mental-health, psychology, self-development, Uncategorized

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

Leave a comment

Filed under meditation, mental health, psychology, self-development

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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Filed under gratitude, happiness, Uncategorized

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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Filed under deep walking, gratitude, happiness, meditation, self-development, spirituality

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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Filed under psychology, purpose, self-development