gm-reflection

 Power believes itself invincible. It evolves, adapts, absorbs criticism, and neutralizes rebellion. It manipulates fear, manufactures consent, and numbs critical thought. And yet—every empire, every system, every gleaming juggernaut eventually cracks. Not because the rulers plan it. Not because the oppressed suddenly become perfectly organized. But because power always carries within it the seeds of its own destruction . The Anatomy of Fracture 1. Internal Contradictions: Power’s Fatal Flaw As Walt Whitman wrote: "Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes." Humans are built for plurality—for conflict, for paradox. No system has ever existed without its own contradictions, because no human being is a pure, single idea. Every system that survives by stifling imagination and dissent eventually becomes too stupid to evolve—and too rigid to survive. But the deeper flaw isn't just in the rulers; it’s in human n...

  It was 2011, and I was working as a mobile veterinarian in Oregon. Occupy Wall Street had erupted, and soon Occupy Portland followed. The excitement was palpable in every liberal-minded home I visited. Conversations buzzed with hope: finally, the time had come. The great machine of corporate greed was cracking. Change was not only possible—it felt inevitable. That was then. Now it’s 2025. Corporations are thriving—better than ever. They have not only survived; they have reshaped the political landscape to suit themselves even more comfortably. -Agencies once created to protect the environment now step gingerly around polluters. -"Drill, baby, drill" is back in fashion—cheered on by people who also anoint Elon Musk as their messiah. -Sales of electric vehicles climb steadily in deep-red states; how strange is this world  So the question becomes unavoidable: Why? Why, after so many revolutions, movements, protests, and crises, does power not only endure—but thrive? T...

  In the previous blogs, we've explored a planet strained by relentless extraction—a world where some consume far too much, and yet millions still go to bed hungry. We’ve seen the suffering that comes from overconsumption in one corner and desperate scarcity in another. But why? Why does this imbalance persist, despite centuries of innovation, technology, revolutions, and activism? Why, in a world rich enough to feed and shelter everyone, do some continue to accumulate more while so many others are left behind? The answer isn't simply greed. It isn’t merely capitalism or corruption, either—those are symptoms of a deeper design. It is about power : who holds it, who shapes it, and who quietly consents to it. This is where our story must go next. Because to understand consumption, inequality, and environmental collapse, we must first understand the structure of power itself. In the upcoming series, "The Structure of Power: Why It Persists, and Why It Cracks," we’l...

  Blog 7 of the “Living in the Thoughtsphere” Series “The planet is collapsing under too much, while millions still wait for just enough.” That line, from the last blog, won’t leave me. It hovers—quiet but constant. Like a radio signal I can’t quite turn off. Because here’s the truth: I don’t know what enough really means anymore. I’ve seen people add three extra spoonfuls of rice to their plate without thinking. I’ve also seen people stretch one bowl across three children. I’ve lived in places where food was dumped without a glance, and places where tea leaves were reused, quietly, a third time. Enough, it turns out, is a moving target—cultural, circumstantial, deeply personal. But what makes this moment different is that now, it’s also planetary. When we talk about overconsumption—and I do—it’s easy to sound like we’re just saying: “We all need to take less.” But that’s not true. Not all of us have enough to take less from. Not the 800 million still going hungry. Not th...

  The planet is collapsing under too much, while millions still wait for just enough. If you haven’t checked out Blog 5: The Tech Fix Mirage , you might want to. In that piece, I looked at how even our best technological fixes—electric cars, smart recycling, solar roofs—often avoid a deeper truth: maybe we don’t need all this stuff in the first place. But this one’s a little different. We’re still talking overconsumption, sure. But quieter kinds. Everyday things that we don’t even realize add up—like the guy who once casually told me he drinks a gallon of milk every day. His doctor apparently said it was okay. Honestly, he didn’t look okay. We all have something like that—extra helpings, second fridges, three cups of rice at dinner instead of one. Even online searches, something we barely register, have a hidden cost. One deep search can use enough electricity to power an LED bulb for about 17 minutes. That’s no big deal, until you realize that in some homes around the world, tha...

Solar Panels Don’t Erase Shopping Carts (This post follows Blog 4: Why We Keep Consuming — Even When the Planet Can’t, where I explored how overconsumption isn’t just systemic — it’s personal. This time, I’m asking: what if the solutions we trust aren’t really solutions at all?) I’ve always wanted to believe in tech as a way out. Electric cars, solar panels, AI-assisted recycling — it all sounds promising. In a world that feels increasingly fragile, these things offer relief. A sense that someone, somewhere, is solving it. But the older I get, the more I feel uneasy. Let’s say we replaced every gas-powered car on the planet with electric ones. That’s 1.45 billion vehicles, overnight. Would we have solved the problem? Or just swapped engines and kept the machine running? In Chile’s Atacama Desert, 65% of available water now goes toward lithium mining. That’s what it takes to power those “clean” cars. One of the driest places on Earth, and we’re draining it to keep driving. That’s ...

  Blog 4 of the “Living in the Thoughtsphere” series (This post follows Blog 3: Quietly Showing Up , where I reflected on small gestures and quiet participation in a time of collapse.) There’s a weird kind of dissonance in scrolling through Amazon while thinking about climate collapse. You know too much. You’ve read the reports. You’ve seen the images. And yet, you’re clicking through pages of things you don’t need. A new flashlight. A better phone stand. Some product you never thought about until just now. And then, without thinking much, you buy it. I’ve done this. Not once or twice — enough that I’ve stopped keeping track. It usually happens when I’m tired, or frustrated, or vaguely uncomfortable in some way I can’t name. The purchase is a pressure valve. It doesn’t solve anything. It just gives me something to do with the discomfort. At one point, I convinced myself I was being responsible. I switched to eco-friendly versions of things. I bought reusable bags, compostabl...

(This post follows Blog 2: The Sugar Maple and the Long Now , where I reflected on legacy and planting for futures we might never see.) Let’s be honest. Most of us aren’t Gandhi or MLK. We’re not standing in front of bulldozers or organizing mass movements. We’re not flying across the country to protest. We’re not going to make the news. We’re definitely not going to trend. We’ve got jobs. We’ve got kids. We’ve got a leaking tap and a back that hurts. Some days, we barely have time to care — and yet we do. Quietly. Deeply. Sometimes with a little guilt. I’ve lived in that in-between place. Not passive, not unaware. Just unsure what to do with what I knew. So I started small. I stopped mowing most of our back field. I built a few bluebird houses. I planted a butterfly garden with seeds I found online. Not because I thought it would change the world, but because it felt like movement in the right direction. The neighbors noticed. Around here, the lawn is a badge of honor. I didn’t al...

  “You don’t plant sugar maples for yourself. You plant them for your grandchildren.” A long time ago, a friend of mine in Oregon, who also farmed maple syrup, said something that stuck. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but now it lives in me.   (This post continues from Blog 1: The Joke That Wasn’t . If you haven’t read it yet, that’s where the crack in my cynicism first began.) https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blog/post/edit/3745980224068107214/8212771631672611782 There’s something strange about legacy. You don’t really feel it when you’re racing to survive. I used to think in weeks, months, maybe years. What job next. What bill this month. How to fix the world before bedtime. But that one sentence, about sugar maples, has been quietly reshaping how I hold time. It takes decades for a sugar maple to produce syrup. You plant the tree knowing full well you may never benefit from it. And still, people plant them. Not for return, but because they believe someone wil...

  For years, I had a go-to line whenever conversations turned to the climate crisis: “I don’t need to worry. I’ll probably be dead before the real collapse comes.” It was tongue-in-cheek, of course. But like many jokes, it hid something truer than I was ready to say out loud. It wasn’t that I didn’t care — it was that caring hurt. The scale of the problem made me feel irrelevant. So I laughed instead. Then the rivers dried up. In late 2022, the Mississippi River — that mighty artery of the continent — dropped so low that barge traffic stopped and drinking water systems strained. Memphis recorded the river at –10.81 feet , the lowest level ever measured. On the other side of the Atlantic, the Rhine became so shallow that cargo ships were stuck, paralyzing a key European trade route. People were literally walking across riverbeds that had carried ships for centuries. Suddenly, 2050 wasn’t some distant dystopia. It was now. And the joke wasn’t funny anymore. I started seein...

  এই পৃথিবীকে শিশুর বাসযোগ্য করে যাব I will make this world livable for the child — Sukanta Bhattacharya Hello, I'm Goutam. My deep curiosity about wildlife led me to take courses in the field, and I've always been passionate about ensuring animals don't lose their homes. While I haven't formally worked in wildlife medicine, these interests have profoundly shaped my perspectives. ​ This blog is my personal space to share stories and reflections on conservation, community, ethics, and the everyday efforts to live more thoughtfully. It's less about presenting polished theories and more about exploring how these ideas manifest in real life. ​ Some posts might delve into field experiences; others may ponder what it means to live with care in a complex world. Occasionally, I'll question existing systems or simply reflect on small, meaningful moments. ​ This isn't a platform for polished philosophies or definitive answers. It's a space for sharing the r...