humanity

For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.

A Tale of tow Constitutions
It should now be apparent that it is not a coincidence that the United States, and not Mexico, adopted and enforced a constitution that espoused democratic principles, created limitations on the use of political power, and distributed that power broadly in society. The document that the delegates sat down to write in Philadelphia in May 1787 was the outcome of a long process initiated by the formation of the General Assembly in Jamestown in 1619.
By Hafeez Alam25 days ago in Humans
One of the Most Liberating Truths in Spiritual Life
One of the most liberating truths in spiritual life is the distinction between judgment and reflection. This single distinction, when understood deeply, can transform the way we see ourselves, others, and the world.
By Julie O'Hara - Author, Poet and Spiritual Warrior25 days ago in Humans
Labels People Put On You
A label is a way to identify something or someone. It could be a word or phrase that describes or names something or someone in a negative or positive way.
By Margaret Minnicks25 days ago in Humans
Loving the Wrong Person Taught Me the Right Lessons
Have you ever loved someone so deeply that you ignored every warning sign—only to realize later that the pain itself was trying to teach you something?
By John Smith25 days ago in Humans
Why Winter Brings Back the Love You Thought You’d Healed From
Winter has a way of reviving old love, forgotten heartbreaks, and emotions you thought you’d healed from. This deeply human article explores why cold seasons trigger emotional relapses, loneliness, and soul-level memories… through psychology, neuroscience, nostalgia, and the quiet honesty of winter itself.
By F. M. Rayaan25 days ago in Humans
Last Day of the Year. Content Warning.
The last day of the year is not just a calendar marker—it is a gentle reminder from Allah that time is a trust, and every moment is a gift. As the sun sets on this year, hearts are often filled with reflection, hope, and sometimes regret. But in Islam, reflection is not meant to burden the soul; it is meant to guide it toward growth, gratitude, and closeness to Allah. Today, pause for a moment. Think about the days gone by—the smiles, the struggles, the lessons learned, and the prayers answered. Every heartbeat, every breath, every struggle and triumph has been part of Allah’s plan, shaping you into the person you are now. The past year may have brought trials, but every trial carries a lesson. Every difficulty carries a hidden blessing. And every blessing is a gift from Allah to be cherished and shared. Islam teaches us that our deeds are recorded, and each moment holds weight. The last day of the year is an opportunity to seek forgiveness for the mistakes we have made, to make amends where we can, and to set intentions for the days to come. A simple prayer of “Astaghfirullah” (I seek forgiveness from Allah) can cleanse the heart and light the path for a fresh start. It is also a day to express gratitude. Gratitude transforms ordinary moments into extraordinary ones. It transforms challenges into lessons and setbacks into stepping stones. Take a moment to thank Allah for your family, your health, your sustenance, and your faith. Gratitude strengthens the heart and prepares it for hope and optimism in the coming year. As night approaches, consider spending a few quiet moments in prayer or dhikr, reflecting on your goals and your relationship with Allah. Ask Him to guide you toward goodness, to bless your efforts, and to keep your heart steadfast in faith. The beauty of Islam is that no matter the past, every new day is a chance to begin again. The last day of the year reminds us of this beautifully—tomorrow is a new day, a new chapter, a blank page in your story. Share love and kindness with those around you. Make a heartfelt call to a family member, send words of encouragement to a friend, or simply smile at someone in need. These small acts are seeds of goodness, and Allah multiplies their reward. The last day of the year is the perfect day to plant these seeds, so the coming year blossoms with mercy, peace, and joy. And when the clock strikes midnight, instead of chasing fireworks or worldly celebrations alone, let your heart celebrate the blessings of Allah. Let your mind reflect on lessons learned, and let your soul feel the peace of submission to His will. In this sacred rhythm of reflection and renewal, the year passes, but the soul grows. Remember, life is fleeting, but each year offers a chance to be better, to love more, and to serve Allah with sincerity. As the last day ends and a new year begins, step forward with hope, gratitude, and a heart open to mercy. Let this be the year of growth, of good deeds, of kindness, and of unwavering faith. The last day of the year is more than an ending—it is a beginning. A beginning blessed by Allah, wrapped in lessons, and filled with hope. Embrace it with a heart full of faith, a spirit ready to serve, and a mind eager to learn. Because every ending in the eyes of Allah is the start of something beautiful.
By Muhammad Saad 25 days ago in Humans
They Weren’t Listening for Answers
The questions came quickly. Too quickly. Each one was delivered with a practiced rhythm, the kind that doesn’t leave much space between sentences. I answered as best I could, watching the pen move across the page, the cursor blink on the screen. There was no interruption, no sign of impatience. Just motion.
By Megan Stroup25 days ago in Humans
The Fuss Over Third Places Is Valid
Too many buzzwords and concepts are so hard to define; instead, third places are easy to define, which gives us a promising start. They are, according to Ray Oldenburg (The Great Good Place, 1989), the spaces where we choose to spend our time when we are not at home or work/school.
By Avocado Nunzella BSc (Psych) -- M.A.P 25 days ago in Humans
The Privacy of Progress: Why Your Best Growth Will Never Be Posted. AI-Generated.
In the world of social media and constant "status updates," we are conditioned to believe that if growth isn't documented, it didn't happen. We look for the "glow-up," the "before and after" photos, and the public declarations of healing. However, the most profound evolution a human can experience is one that leaves no digital footprint. It is what the sources describe as "the quiet architecture of personal growth"—a transformation defined by "the moment I stopped reacting the way I used to".
By Reality Has Glitches26 days ago in Humans
A Place I Didn’t Choose
We came in September. That matters. Not summer—when everything pretends to be perfect. September, when things are already letting go.
By Travis Johnson26 days ago in Humans
The Man Who Always Returned
The Man Who Always Returned In an old coastal city known as The Seven Harbors, where the smell of salt clung to every stone and the cries of seagulls never truly faded, there lived a man named Salem bin Nader. ‏Salem was not known for a great achievement, nor for wealth or power. ‏He had no title, no position, no legacy carved into the city’s memory. ‏He was known for only one thing: ‏He was the man most familiar to the city guards. ‏They knew his face better than they knew one another’s. With every passing season, Salem returned to the same square, wearing the same faded clothes, walking with the same exhausted steps. His beard grew longer, his back bent lower, but his destination never changed. ‏He would be taken away. ‏Then released. ‏Then left alone. ‏Only to return again. ‏Some people whispered, ‏“He is a man who never learns.” ‏But no one ever stopped to ask: ‏What was he supposed to learn from? ‏The Beginning of the Story ‏Salem was born during a time when the city was flourishing. Ships filled the harbors, markets overflowed with voices, and opportunities seemed endless—at least for those who knew where to look. ‏His home, however, was not part of that prosperity. ‏He grew up in a narrow room with cracked walls and a door that never closed properly. He fell asleep to the sound of arguments and woke up to the absence of a father who disappeared one night and never returned. His mother worked endlessly, growing quieter with every year, until silence became the language of their home. ‏From a young age, Salem learned that silence was easier than speaking, and escape was safer than confrontation. Dreams felt like fragile things—things better left untouched. ‏When he grew older, he tried to live like others. He took small jobs, drifted from place to place, and attempted to blend into a world that always felt too loud, too demanding, too sharp. ‏That was when he found alcohol. ‏At first, it was nothing more than a companion—warm, forgiving, and silent. It never asked him who he was or why he failed. It never demanded improvement. ‏At first, he believed he controlled it. ‏Then the years passed. ‏And slowly, quietly, it was the alcohol that began to control him. ‏An Endless Circle ‏The city’s laws were strict. Anyone found unconscious in public places would be detained. Order was sacred; appearances mattered. ‏And so Salem became part of the guards’ daily schedule. ‏They knew where to find him. They knew how to lift him, how to search him, how to file his name. He was never violent, never harmful—just a lost man sitting where he did not belong. ‏Each time, the judge glanced at him and repeated the same sentence: ‏“We are protecting order.” ‏But the system never asked: ‏Who is protecting the human being? ‏Salem was released again and again—without work, without treatment, without guidance, without a place to return to. There was no bridge offered between punishment and recovery. ‏And so it was only natural that he returned. ‏Because the circle was never broken— ‏it was simply redrawn. ‏Salem’s Other Face ‏Despite everything, the people of the city saw another side of him. ‏On better days, Salem would play an old drum near the harbor, its skin worn thin by time. Children gathered around him, clapping and dancing, laughing without fear or judgment. He remembered the names of vendors, helped elderly women carry their bags, and greeted strangers as if they were old friends. ‏He listened more than he spoke. ‏An old woman once said softly, ‏“If evil were measured by cruelty, Salem would not be an evil man.” ‏But in the eyes of the system, ‏he was nothing more than a repeated number. ‏The Moment That Came Too Late ‏During a harsh winter night, Salem collapsed near the sea. The wind was unforgiving, and the harbor was quiet. ‏This time, he was not arrested. ‏There was no report to be written, no cell to hold him, no file to reopen. ‏When the city learned of his death, something strange happened. People gathered by the harbor, unable to explain the heaviness in their chests. They spoke his name in fragments, remembering moments that felt suddenly important. ‏A fisherman said quietly, ‏“He needed a hand to hold him… not a door to close behind him.” ‏The Wisdom ‏Not every fall is a sign of failure, ‏and not every return is stubbornness. ‏Sometimes, a person returns to the same place ‏because society never opened another path. ‏The harshest laws are not those that punish, ‏but those that repeat punishment ‏and call it a solution. ‏
By AZD azrh26 days ago in Humans
I Didn’t Break Down—I Powered Down: The Selective Silence of Internal Growth. AI-Generated.
In the lexicon of personal struggle, we have many words for falling apart. We talk about "crashing," "burning out," or "hitting rock bottom." These are loud, visible events. But there is another state—one that feels more like a mechanical hum than a scream. It is the sensation of powering down. For a long time, I thought this meant I was failing at being human. I felt like I was functioning but not present, a ghost in the machinery of my own life.
By Reality Has Glitches26 days ago in Humans