If I See War Out There, Then There Is War In Here

This question has consumed my thoughts lately. Well, I have many questions. But it all keeps circling back to this one.

How can I live a joyful life when others are suffering?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve contemplated this question. When I was younger, caught in the grips of mental illness, I didn’t have the capacity to think about anything beyond my own pain. But as I have healed, and I’ve experienced increasing states of peace, joy, and love, this question has returned, louder and clearer.

How can I feel good when others are suffering?

Sometimes I wonder if part of me preferred suffering, because then I didn’t have to face this question.

Through years of healing and transformation, I’ve had glimpses, and sometimes embodied experiences, of the truth that we are not separate. That there are no “others.” That all of this is one vast interconnected field of life. I’ve felt it in meditation. In breathwork. Listening to music. Having sex. Dancing. On psychedelics. In stillness. The self disappears, and all that remains is now. Bliss. Oneness. Perfection.

And yet, in the outer world, suffering continues.

When I see images of torture, war, starvation, destruction; it hits me in my body. I coach myself through it with what I was once reminded of in a medicine space, when I asked, “But what about the others who are suffering?” The answer: “There are no others.” At that moment, I knew. My joy, my gratitude, my love is healing. Fully living, fully loving, is service.

I often think of the body. When some cells are sick, the solution isn’t for all the other cells to also become sick in solidarity. The best thing those cells can do is thrive, and focus love and support on what needs healing. We are the cells. Earth is the body.

So, how can I enjoy my amazing life while others suffer?

Not the way I have been.

Lately, compared to the high bar I know is possible, I’ve been living in a contracted, distracted, semi-disconnected way. Not fully devoted. Feeding subtle patterns of separation and avoidance. Addicted to little dopamine hits and small ego stories. Neglecting what matters most.

And I’ve felt the guilt. Not to punish myself, but to wake me up. To remind me: I know better. I’ve experienced the truth. I have a responsibility to live it.

Because I have been contributing to suffering. Not loudly, but energetically. By not fully committing to my inner transformation. By occasionally choosing comfort over growth. By choosing scrolling over showing up. By choosing to stay small.

That is not what I’m here for.

The other day, someone shared an emotionally charged Facebook post on the Israel/Gaza situation. It was originally written by someone else, and it called out those who are silent, claiming that silence is the oxygen “genocide” breathes.

The tone felt self-righteous, accusatory. At first, I was frustrated. It felt like someone stuck in the drama triangle, playing saviour, pointing fingers outward, fanning the flames of conflict and drama, while appearing to call for peace.

And then I saw the mirror.

I saw how I, too, have fanned the flames. Through my silence. Through judging people for their anger and divisiveness, without seeing that judgement is the same frequency. Through neglecting to transform the parts of me where war still lives.

So I made this choice. To speak. Not just to speak, but to make a stand. Not to declare who’s right or wrong, or what the media is or isn’t telling us. But to take responsibility for my part. To break the silence in a way that feels aligned with truth.

I can live my life with joy when I am no longer feeding suffering, externally or internally. When I am committed to healing, to awakening, to transforming the roots of violence within me. When I am brave enough to say:

Where am I blaming instead of taking responsibility?

Where am I focused on “out there” while ignoring the war “in here”?

Where am I living to get, instead of living to give?

Where am I contributing to division, even subtly?

Where am I acting like this life is mine, instead of remembering I am part of something much greater?

Where am I being controlling of others, life or myself?

I see now that I have not been truly committed to global transformation. I’ve flirted with it. Tasted it. Talked about it. But I haven’t surrendered fully. I haven’t gone all in.

That changes now.

We cannot solve a problem from the same level of consciousness that created it. (paraphrasing Einstein)

So I ask: What if what’s truly needed right now is not more opinions, or louder voices, but a complete shift in consciousness? What if trying to fix the world through division, through outrage, through reactivity, is exactly what keeps the whole world stuck in the same energetic loop? What if the transformation of this world depends not on taking sides, but on transcending them?

This isn’t just about Israel and Gaza. That’s what the media is spotlighting. But horror and suffering are happening everywhere. And have been. And will continue to, unless we wake up.

If we only respond when a story is trending, are we truly awake? Or are we just being pulled around by external forces, forgetting to think and feel and inquire for ourselves?

I’m standing for you, for all of us, to wake up.

To stop letting your mind and heart be hijacked by the media, and instead to ask: What is the agenda behind this message? Every message carries an intention. Every communication has an agenda.

Transformation requires discernment, a willingness to question what feels righteous and familiar.

So I ask: What are we feeding with our attention? What kind of world are we energising with our thoughts, our words and our actions?

I’m here to stand for love, oneness and transformation.

The real revolution is consciousness. The real activism is healing.

And that begins within.

For those of us with food in our bellies and a roof over our heads, we have a responsibility. A sacred one. To raise our vibration. To shift our frequency. To heal our trauma. To transform fear into love.

Because so many others simply can’t. Not right now. Not while they’re in the middle of war, rape, torture, starvation, systemic oppression. Not while they’re just trying to survive in places like Gaza, Israel, Sudan, the Congo, Afghanistan, Myanmar, Yemen, Ukraine, Iran, the favelas of Brazil, the refugee camps in Syria, the slums of India, and in Australia: systemic racism, domestic violence, inhumane treatment of refugees and asylum seekers, homelessness and mental health crisis.

I’m not listing these horrors to lower our vibration. I’m not trying to spiral anyone into despair. I’m listing them to urge us to stop keeping our heads buried in the sand. To be willing to look at what’s actually happening so we can be part of the solution.

In my second medicine journey, five years ago, I was forced to witness the worst of humanity. Torture, mutilation, rape, starvation, genocide. The medicine wouldn’t let up. It showed me the full scale of brutality that exists on this planet. Not for shock. Not for punishment. But because I had not yet opened.

In the oneness the medicine invoked, it wasn’t “out there.” I felt it all as happening to my children as “my children” were not separate. Every scream was my child’s scream. Every violation, my own. Every act of violence in the history of humanity, all happening now, felt in my own body as the giver and the receiver.

There are no others.

And I was shown: until I can witness the full spectrum of human experience, not just the bliss and beauty, but the agony and horror, and remain present, remain open-hearted, remain loving, I have nothing real to offer.

It’s taken me five years to even begin to integrate that medicine journey. Five years to peel back the layers of comfort, conditioning, self-obsession, and denial. To remember why I’m here.

We who are fed, sheltered, resourced, we who can heal, feel and transform, must do so if we want the horrors to stop. Because most of the people in the depths of war and trauma do not have space to self-reflect. We do.

And with that privilege comes a responsibility.
A responsibility to raise our frequency, not just for our own well-being, but for the collective. A duty to stop getting lost in small egoic drama. A call to step up and live in a way that uplifts the whole.

We are not separate. That child starving on the other side of the world is our child. That mother burying her family is our sister. That Indigenous elder losing her language is our ancestor.
This is bigger than us.

And I’m standing here with my heart cracked wide open, saying: please, wake up. Not from fear. Not from guilt. Not from anger. But from love.
Because when we remember we are one body, one heart, one field of life, then everything changes.

When I devote myself to the whole, to the health of the whole body, the whole Earth, the whole human family, I don’t feel guilty. I feel expansion. Softness. Truth.

So I ask myself: how can I be of service at this moment? What can I do that uplifts the whole? How can I shift from separation to unity in this breath, this interaction, this thought?

This is my answer: To recommit to my writing as a voice, a catalyst, an alchemy. To live with intention. To call in a community that is ready to stop consuming and start creating. To use social media with intention; to amplify presence, connection, and purpose.

This is the seed of Project Whole that I’ve been ruminating over. A call to those who know that global transformation begins with inner transformation. A call to choose responsibility over blame. Creation over consumption. Love over outrage. Let’s come together and fan the flames of love and transformation.

Another seed I’m planting is Intentional Socialisation. Spaces where we gather not to escape ourselves, but to return to ourselves. To co-regulate. To connect. To meditate. To play. To heal. To reflect. To be real. Together.

Because the world doesn’t need more noise. It needs more coherence. And coherence starts here. With me. With you. With us.

If I see war out there, then there is war in here. And I’m willing to face it. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s time. Because this moment, this one right now, is my opportunity to choose differently.

Are you willing to face it too?

If so, reach out. I’m calling in others ready to walk this path.