In Canada, a mother can serve a maximum of five years in prison for killing her newborn. Often, she serves far less. This law exists as an acknowledgment of the realities of early motherhood—its psychological strain, its physical toll, and its capacity to overwhelm. The United States doesn’t have a clean equivalent at the federal […]
If a solar flare wipes out electricity, AI collapses and digital money fractures. What survives isn’t technology—it’s human judgment, trust, and skills. True resilience lies not in optimization, but in orientation, relationships, and the foundations of meaning that endure when the lights go out.
There is a wall in front of you, one behind, one to your left, and one to your right. Above you a fifth wall, below you a sixth. Inside this container is everything that’s you—what drives you, what hurts you, what tempts you, just you.
We’ve been taught to think that growth means building bigger, taller, more—but systems built this way are fragile, brittle, and blind to nuance. Real resilience comes from scaling outward, not upward—like a garden, not a tower. Scale built this way doesn’t just endure—it flourishes.
We’ve been conditioned to think that order comes from rules, oversight, and enforcement. That control is the default. The logic is simple: if people don’t follow the rules, punish them. If they follow the rules, reward them. It works…until it doesn’t.
In an era defined by infinite everything, it’s the empty space that has become most scarce. And if scarcity equals value, those who can get to nothing are the richest among us.
Septima Elle 