Remember how, in childhood, summer seemed like a lifetime? Three months filled with new discoveries, the scents of grandma's garden, and endless games in the yard. Every day was unique, new, and unlike the previous one. And now? In adulthood, it feels like we've been caught in an accelerating loop of time: “I blinked, and spring passed; I blinked, and autumn passed”. Why does this happen?

Why is apologizing painful? When we feel guilt, we often believe it’s the voice of our conscience. However, modern science asserts that guilt is not a moral compass but a signal of physical trauma.

According to modern psychological research, the millennia-old leader among human fears — thanatophobia (fear of death) — has unexpectedly given way. Now, reigning on the pedestal is a new, more insidious, and ubiquitous horror: the fear of losing meaning. This is not the fear that life will come to an end, but the fear that it never mattered. How does this global shift in priorities affect each of us?

I suggest you remember a well-known parable that illustrates the power of fear of the unknown.

"Become the best version of yourself!" What do you feel when you hear this call? Honestly! This phrase inherently implies that who you are now is some sort of "bad" or "insufficient" version. And you urgently need to do something about this "defective" self to finally become the "best version".

When we talk about the "victim position", most people imagine a person who loudly complains, blames the world, and completely refuses to take responsibility. However, in real life, this role often manifests much more subtly, hiding behind polite phrases, feigned modesty, and even constructive criticism.

The practice of gratitude has become one of the most popular tips in the self-development sphere. We are promised that simply listing reasons for joy will immediately trigger miracles in our lives. However, for many people, this practice turns out to be not a springboard upward, but a way to slide down: it amplifies feelings of guilt, emptiness, and internal conflict.

The theme of love will never be exhausted. It is written about, talked about, drawn, danced, sung, and played. People dream about it, praise it, and wait for it... But it does not come when you wait for it. It is felt.

Imagine yourself in a dark room. You hear a rustle in the corner, and your imagination immediately paints the worst: a robber, a monster, something that could harm you. Your heart pounds, your breath quickens, your body tightens. But suddenly you turn on the light. In the corner, it turns out to be just an old cloak that fell from the chair. In an instant, fear disappears because its cause is gone — you have shifted from imagination to reality.

We are accustomed to thinking that our feelings are nothing more than a play of hormones and neurons, and that the world around us is a static, separate reality. But what if that is not the case? What if our inner world — our emotions and thoughts — holds the power to change matter at the most fundamental level?