I Dance
As I dance into the autumn season of a lifetime, I’m filled with a sense of purpose and possibility. The days ahead feel like a canvas, and there’s so much yet to create and experience.
Sharing my paintings, my thoughts, and this journey with all of you brings me so much joy. I hope it resonates with you, sparks inspiration, or simply brings a moment of peace to your day.
Much gratitude for your support.
A Fragile Hope in the Age of Power: A Reflection on Technology and Humanity
In the heart of a war-torn land, a young girl stands amid the wreckage—her small frame still, her eyes lifted to a sky that has seen too much. Smoke lingers on the horizon. The silence after chaos hangs heavy in the air. Yet she does not flinch.
She is not waiting for rescue. She is wishing—for a chance at something more. A chance to grow without fear, to laugh without looking back, to live a life not measured by loss. In her gaze lives the unspoken dream of every soul caught in conflict: a better life, a safer world, and the freedom to imagine a future not defined by war.
This fragile moment—of defiance, of innocence, of hope—is what technology was meant to protect.
And yet, as we stand today at the crossroads of rapid technological advancement, we must ask ourselves: what kind of future are we building? Are we honoring the silent wishes of children like her—or are we straying into something darker?
Technology, when born from compassion and guided by wisdom, is a marvel. It has cured diseases, connected continents, brought knowledge to the fingertips of billions, and helped us reach further than ever imagined. When used for good, it becomes the greatest expression of human potential—an extension of our hope, our ingenuity, and our care for one another.
But there is another side emerging.
As power centralizes in the hands of the few—those who control artificial intelligence, surveillance systems, and bioengineering—we see technology being used not to empower, but to control. Not to heal, but to manipulate. Not to connect, but to divide.
Einstein, one of the greatest minds of the last century, understood this paradox. He once hoped his discoveries would prevent global catastrophe. Instead, they helped usher in it. In his later years, he warned not of science itself, but of humanity’s failure to guide it with conscience. “It has become appallingly obvious,” he wrote, “that our technology has exceeded our humanity.”
That imbalance has only deepened. In our quest to create, we have forgotten to ask: Should we? In our desire to innovate, we’ve neglected the responsibility to protect the vulnerable. We are racing ahead with tools capable of reshaping the very fabric of life, but with values that often lag behind.
The result is a future that looks both bright and grim…full of promise but shadowed by the risk of dehumanization. We now live in a world where surveillance watches more than it protects, where algorithms decide who gets justice or opportunity, and where truth is filtered, fed, and sometimes fabricated.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
The child in the rubble is not just a symbol of tragedy. She is a symbol of what must guide us. Her quiet strength, her wish for something more, is a reminder that all our technological wonders mean nothing if they don’t serve the most basic human needs: safety, dignity, and the ability to dream.
