The Great Re-Connection…

Daily Prompt: What would you change about modern society?

Now this is a tough one.

Because let’s be honest, there’s plenty I’d like to change. But if I had to strip it all back, I think the biggest thing is the disconnection.

We’ve disconnected from the land, from each other, from the truth… and maybe worst of all, from ourselves. We walk around like we’re separate from nature, like we don’t belong to it. Like it’s something out there, instead of something we’re part of, bone, breath, earth, soul.

And underneath all that, we’ve been slowly programmed, told who to be, what to think, what to believe. Taught to chase approval, money, and image. To measure worth in likes and labels. Somewhere along the way, most people stopped listening to the part of them that knows better, that deep-down knowing, that quiet little voice that whispers, “This isn’t it. You were meant for more than this.”

I see it everywhere, in the burnout, the anxiety, the emptiness that no amount of shopping, scrolling, or sugar can fix. People are walking around completely disconnected from their own inner compass. And the saddest part? Half of them don’t even realize it.

I’d change that. I’d bring us back.

Back to nature. Back to real conversations and real food and real feelings. Back to the wild bits of ourselves, the ones that know how to rest, how to love without conditions, how to speak truth even when it shakes.

Back to source, whatever you want to call it, spirit, God, the universe, the gut feeling, the fire in your belly. That part of you that was never broken, just buried.

Because when we’re truly connected, to each other, to the earth, to that spark inside, we don’t need to be controlled. We remember who we are. And that, my friends, is the most dangerous and beautiful thing there is.

Here is a link to a post I just put up yesterday that ties it with this prompt:


Comments

21 responses to “The Great Re-Connection…”

  1. Joey Jones Avatar
    Joey Jones

    Spot on, Mae x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Really appreciate you laying this out so honestly. There’s something powerful about how you’ve traced that thread from disconnection right through to control – it feels like you’ve hit on something fundamental about the human condition right now.

    But I’m curious about a few things that your post has got me thinking about. When you talk about being “slowly programmed” – who or what exactly is doing the programming? Is it conscious manipulation by specific actors, or more of an emergent property of the systems we’ve built? Because understanding the mechanism might change how we approach undoing it.

    Also, this idea of going “back” – I wonder if that framing might be part of what keeps us stuck? Like, was there actually a golden age when we were more connected, or are we romanticising the past whilst the real work is figuring out how to be authentically human within the realities of modernity?

    And here’s what really gets me: you mention that when we’re truly connected “we don’t need to be controlled.” But what if some of this disconnection isn’t imposed on us, but something we’ve actively chosen because connection is actually quite difficult and uncomfortable? Raw authenticity, real intimacy, facing our own depths – that stuff is hard work. Sometimes the shallow distractions are genuinely easier.

    I keep thinking about whether the solution is individual (each person finding their way back to that inner compass) or whether it requires dismantling some of the structures that make disconnection profitable. Or both?

    What do you reckon – are we dealing with a spiritual crisis that needs spiritual solutions, or a systemic problem that needs systemic change?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Wow, thank you, Bob. What a powerful and thoughtful response. You’re asking exactly the right questions, and honestly, I think the answer is: yes, to all of it.

      When I talk about being “slowly programmed,” I think it’s a mix. We are programmed as kids at school. There are conscious actors, marketing industries, political machines, surveillance capitalism, all shaping behavior for profit or control. But there’s also something insidious in how systems evolve: social media didn’t set out to fragment our attention and self-worth, but here we are. I think it’s both engineered and emergent. The tricky part is that once these systems benefit from disconnection, they’re self-reinforcing.

      On the idea of “going back”, I take your point, and it’s a good one. Maybe it’s less about returning to some mythical golden age (which may never have existed), and more about remembering or reclaiming something we’ve lost touch with. A kind of inner knowing that predates the noise. Not a rewind, but a re-rooting, so to speak. And yes, connection is hard. It asks us to be vulnerable, to sit in discomfort, to be accountable. I don’t think we chose disconnection consciously, but I do believe we sometimes prefer numbness to depth because it feels safer. The irony is, we’re often more alone in the crowd than we ever would be in the quiet with ourselves.

      Maybe the solution needs both paths: individual and systemic. Healing ourselves, spiritual re-connection, inner work. But if the structures around us still reward fear, division, and distraction, then we’re swimming upstream. The system shapes the soul, and the soul sustains the system. Maybe what we’re facing isn’t either/or, but an entangled crisis of both spirit and structure. And possibly the most radical act is to keep choosing presence, with ourselves, with each other, even when it’s hard.
      Deep thoughts!

      Liked by 2 people

  3. Dear Mae

    Your posts are thus changing views in life at each read.

    Thanks for liking my post ‘Camping’. 🙏

    Like

  4. I think one of the first things I do when I retire is seriously consider doing away with my smartphone or whatever the equivalent is at the time so I can drop out of the shovelware of breads and circuses we are all exposed to on a daily basis. Then, I’ll find a piece of ground, with a large stone and a big-assed tree and see if I can hear the gossip of the mycelium singing under the forest beneath. If not, I’ll probably just sit there and keep trying.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I bloody love this, Michael. Honestly, it sounds like a plan my soul would sign off on without hesitation.

      Ditch the screens, the noise, the endless feed of recycled nonsense dressed up as news or entertainment. All that distraction. Gone. Just the idea of that feels like taking a long, clean breath for the first time in years.

      And the stone… the tree… the gossiping mycelium underneath, yes. It’s like something older in us remembers how to sit still and listen. Not scroll, not react, just be with it. With the earth, the silence, the hum of life beneath the surface.

      And maybe you hear something or you don’t. But you stay. The not running off to fill the space with something else. Just staying put until your own self catches up and says, “Ah. There you are.”

      Retirement goals, honestly.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. The stones are great conversationalist, when they are in the mood for it. Takes a while, though. They are in no hurry to be busy. Same with the trees.

        Have I mentioned lately that I miss the forest I grew up around? It was a perfect kind of forest with almost no people until they came through with their chainsaws and trucks. 😢

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Oh, I totally get that. Stones do have their own quiet way of speaking, don’t they? You have to be patient and really listen. Same with trees, those ancient, steady souls. I’ve always had a thing for trees and stones; they hold stories in their silence if you know how to hear them.

        It’s heartbreaking when those peaceful forests get torn apart. Where I live is at the foothills of a mountain. Years ago, the forests were amazing. Now, after all the clear-cutting, they look sad and lost. There’s nothing quite like the calm presence of nature to soothe the soul. What state did you grow up in Michael?

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Very quiet, them big stones. ;-)

        I grew up in Minnesota. One of my relatives owned a cabin with lakeshore access and most summer weekends (and quite a few weekdays) were spent either on the lake or in the forest opposite. I’d say it was a toss-up in which one you would find me at any given daylight hour. I didn’t spend much time indoors those days.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Only been to Minneapolis/Saint Paul airport once. Only thing I really remember from that trip was my poor friend Kritter getting stuck in customs over Irish linen. They absolutely nailed her, full-on search and interrogation over pillowcases! lol. I steered clear of linen smuggling on all future trips home after that… lesson learned.

        Funny enough, my ex-husband was from Deer Lake, Washington. I spent years on that lake and in the woods around it. It was wild and beautiful in its own way, very different from Ireland but still full of that grounding, soul-deep quiet that only nature gives you. I think part of me always belonged to the trees and the water (and the stones!), no matter what side of the world I was on. 🧡

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      5. Oh my, I wasn’t even aware of there being a customs issue with Irish linen 😂 Sorry about that experience.

        Deer Lake is not part of my many and varied travels (okay, mostly through the US…), although I passed through Spokane once. Glancing at the online photos, it looks like a place I could get used to. :-)

        Liked by 1 person

      6. Haha, to be fair, I don’t think it had anything to do with Minneapolis/St. Paul airport itself… maybe the customs office was just having a bad day! Poor Kritter never saw it coming. 😂 I learned to sidestep that whole linen situation after that.

        And yes, Deer Lake was gorgeous. Quiet, wild, and full of loons (the birds, not the people… mostly 😄). I can definitely picture you enjoying it Michael 🧡

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      7. Loons (birds, and occasionally the humans) are fantastic creatures. I do miss hearing them at dusk. They don’t much care for the Cities.

        Liked by 1 person

      8. Ah, the loons… there’s nothing quite like their call echoing across a quiet lake at dusk. Haunting and beautiful all at once. And yes, both the feathered and the human kind can be fantastic, though the latter are definitely more unpredictable. 😉

        They’ve got good instincts, though, steering clear of the Cities is probably wise on all counts.
        🧡

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  5. This post really got me thinking – it’s such a raw take on something I reckon most people feel, but rarely have the time or space to put into words. I find myself nodding along, especially at the bit about walking around numb, not realising we’re missing something vital.

    But I keep circling back to the “how.” I totally agree that real connection is missing – and that it goes beyond just chatting with mates or getting off social media for the weekend. But if society is geared to keep us distracted or detached, what does “coming back” actually look like in the day-to-day grind? Is it something we can even hope to tackle as individuals, or does it need to be a bigger collective shift? And what about those who don’t even know there’s any disconnect in the first place – how do you reach them?

    You mention nature, truth, real food, honest conversations etc. but I wonder if some of the causes go even deeper. Do you think modern “progress” itself – technology, urban life, the way we work – makes true connection impossible unless we totally opt out? Or, can we find ways to weave it into what we’ve already got, so we’re not constantly torn between two worlds?

    Would love to hear your thoughts on where to start, especially for someone feeling stuck in the motions but craving that “something more.” Have you found anything that actually helps sustain that “connection” for longer than a weekend hike or digital detox?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ha ha, Bob, you’re really making me earn my keep today lol, but I mean that in the best way! I love when a comment makes me stop and really think, and this one absolutely did. So thank you.

      Firstly, I don’t think there’s one big answer that fits everyone. Each person has their own individual path to walk, their own soul lessons, their own timing, and way of waking up. What resonates deeply with one person might completely miss the mark for another. And that’s okay. We’re not meant to all be the same.

      As for the how… You are right. Society is set up to keep us distracted, disconnected, numbed out, and most of us don’t even realize it’s happening. We’re moving fast, we’re overloaded, we’re trained to prioritize productivity over presence. So yeah, it’s a huge ask to “come back” when everything around us is pushing us the other way.

      But I think we start with ourselves. That’s always where it begins. It’s not trying to fix the world or “wake up” the masses. I would just start by slowing down enough to hear your own breath, your own gut, and your own truth. For me, it was spending time in nature, barefoot in the garden, letting my nervous system decompress. It was feeding myself real food. Letting the silence speak. And eventually… letting myself feel again.

      That said, you’re right to question whether these quick fixes, a hike, a digital detox, really bring lasting connection. I don’t think they do on their own. They’re like little soul snacks. Lovely, but not enough. What’s helped me more is making connection a practice rather than a retreat. Little daily things: choosing honesty in a conversation instead of brushing something off. Sitting with discomfort rather than numbing it. Making space for stillness before I hit burnout.

      And no, I don’t think we have to totally opt out of the modern world, though I’ve definitely fantasized about it! I think we can weave connection into our lives, slowly, intentionally. It’s not all or nothing. It might be as small as turning off the TV during dinner (I haven’t watched TV for more than 10 years) or as big as rethinking how we spend our days. But it all starts with awareness.

      Some people won’t feel the disconnect, and maybe they’re not meant to, not yet anyway. But those who are feeling it? That ache, that restlessness, that craving for “something more”? That’s the signal. That’s where the path begins.

      So if you’re feeling stuck in the motions, start there. Feel the ache. Honor it. Don’t rush to fix it. Just begin by coming home to yourself. And let that be enough, for now.

      Thanks again, Bob. You’ve got me reflecting in the best way. 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

  6. That is exactly what we need to do. Well stated, Mae.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Mags! I really believe starting with ourselves is the key, everything else flows from there.
      Hugs 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Dear Mae

    It is unimaginable joy to read your posts, as fresh as west wind of P B Shelley (Percy Byshe Shelley ‘Ode to West Wind’ : “lift me like a wave, a cloud, I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed”).
    Thanks for liking my post ‘Walk’. 🙏👌😊👍❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    1. You are so welcome and thank you 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

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