Let me be more philosophical in today’s column. Why do we have wars, civil strife, conflicts in government and social institutions, including families?

In moments of deep reflection, I often find myself asking: Why?

We were born in the loving image of our Creator—created for connection, compassion, and peace. So what happened to the human race? I ponder this question with a heavy heart. Are wars and societal conflicts merely battles fought between nations, or are they reflections of the silent, unseen wars within each of us?

Many walk through life cloaked in masks—hiding wounds that have never fully healed. Scars of rejection, betrayal, and shame lie buried beneath the surface. These wounds shape the way we love, the way we speak, the way we think and relate to one another, and ultimately, the way we perceive the world. More often than we realize, these silent injuries lead many into the clutches of aggression, even addiction to power, fame, and glory.

We live in an era defined by unparalleled connection. We can reach out to anyone, anywhere, at any moment. Yet, paradoxically, countless souls feel profoundly isolated—disconnected from themselves, from others, and from the essence of what truly matters.

This disconnection is not just a symptom—it is the root and the very life-force of aggression. Aggression is far more than a physical struggle. It is a desperate, silent cry for relief, for compassion, for belonging. It is a numbing balm against the unbearable ache of feeling unseen, unheard, and unloved. In seeking escape from pain, we often only deepen it. But behind every aggression is a soul yearning to be whole—longing to live a life of peace, joy, and freedom.

Today, noise surrounds us—endless chatter, ceaseless scrolling, constant reaction. We are overstimulated, overcommitted, stretched to the breaking point. Yet in this relentless clamor, we rarely pause. We seldom sit in stillness long enough to ask ourselves: What is truly going on inside me? Though we have access to more information than ever before, we grow increasingly estranged from our own hearts—and from one another.

When we wage war within ourselves, the conflict does not stay hidden. It spills over—into our homes, our relationships, our communities, our government, and our nations. It manifests not only in armed conflict but in broken families, emotional crises, addiction, corruption, and silent despair.

So where does healing begin?

Healing begins when we turn our gaze inward—not with shame, but with compassion. It begins when we slow down and create sacred space to mend what has been broken. When we become still enough to hear the quiet truth within—free from judgment—healing takes root. With it, peace and harmony return.

Healing is not about control or perfection. It is about awareness and acceptance. It is about welcoming the parts of ourselves we have long avoided or abandoned. It is about making peace with our pain, tending to our wounds, and above all, offering rest to the parts of our being—worn out from the endless fight.

Aggression is not a failure of character. It is not a sign of weakness. It is the echo of a deeper wound—a wound demanding care, a soul calling out for comfort. What it asks for is not punishment, but presence. Not judgment, but love. Not abandonment, but connection.

The journey to true recovery, peace, progress, and harmony is arduous. It is marked by challenges. But what matters most is the courage to reclaim your sacred right to wholeness—to embrace the slow, brave process of learning how to feel again. In this vulnerable surrender, something divine is revealed—a glimpse of God’s boundless grace. A rare and holy opportunity to trust, to heal, and to truly live again.

The world itself is not at war. The earth remains steady. The oceans rise and fall with graceful rhythm. It is we who have fallen out of balance. Yet therein lies a profound hope: we hold within us the power to return—to remember who we are.

To heal the world, we must first heal ourselves. In this healing, we rediscover a truth that we had forgotten—a truth beneath every conflict and craving: the desire to be seen, to be heard, to be held, and to be loved.

But this transformation can only blossom when we unite our good intentions as one—when we support those who struggle not with judgment, but with open hearts; when we embody the purest virtues within us—kindness, compassion, and love.

This is the quiet revolution.

It does not arrive with noise. It is not heralded by power or protest. It begins in stillness. It begins in the heart. It calls us to choose love again and again—even when it hurts, even when the light seems distant.

Because love is the only force that truly heals. Through love, we return to ourselves. And in returning to ourselves, we become beacons—lighting the way for others. Together, we can make the world a gentler, safer, and happier place to live—for all, and for generations yet to come.