Global connectivity without communication

Another world is not only possible; she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.

(Arundhati Roy)

Caligula was local madness. Trump is a global psycho. We are no longer individuals with communication tools. We are an enervated planetary cortex lacking a prefrontal lobe. Thus, the world feels crazy, because the human unconscious is no longer private. It is networked. Every: fear, grievance, narcissistic wound, tribal memory and humiliation narrative now has a global amplifier. It is psychic surfacing. What was buried by millennia is now coming online.

MAGA, European reactionism, fundamentalism — these are not political ideologies. They are uterine reflexes. The tribal psyche is trying to retreat to a womb that no longer exists. But you cannot uninvent evolution. You can only either: integrate into it or be shattered by it.

Consciousness of being alive happens to all of us, without knowing why. It is called birth. It is a feeling of being, where one witnesses the apparition of our individuality and a surrounding universe that develops into a personality with mind, body and circumstance. During the early time after birth, there are no thoughts, just a faint, subtle sense of being. A feeling of having suddenly landed somewhere, like when you wake up from deep sleep in a foreign land, after a long journey, and you do not know who you are, or where you are, you are just aware of being.

There is a sense of being, which is not imagination or thinking; it feels like a state of consciousness, a sort of trance, that appears to be separate from any immediate role, thoughts and personality, and perceives consciousness, beyond thinking or emotion. Just the awareness that one is.

Sometimes we experience evanescent instances evoking a resting place, an understanding beyond mind and cultural context. They do not last long, pulled by body impulses, and mind’s rationality and emotions, by our self-identification, with role, name, culture and opinion, all that separates one from the other, in encapsulation, and fear. But yes, all of us have special instances where we sense inwardly that everything is ok. Where one perceives a sense of oneness, that there been only one Existence, a timelessness, no hell and no heaven, a destination.

The paradox today is that the same consciousness that rationally discovered our interdependence is now rejecting it. This is not regression. It is the psyche’s last defense before surrender. Like the ego of an individual facing transformation, humanity is currently saying: “Anything but this.” But evolution always answers: “Then everything else must go.” We are not witnessing the end of humanity. We are witnessing the end of its adolescence.

The garden will bloom again, but first the soil must be broken open.

A new humanity is being born. We are just in deep labor now. The Garden is not a collection of events, but a single organism slowly discovering itself. For most of our existence, consciousness was embedded: in landscape, tribe, myth and seasonal rhythm. Our early bloom moments were not intellectual. They were participatory — awareness inside nature, not standing over it. But they were isolated. There was no planetary nervous system to integrate it.

Agriculture, cities, empires, religions — these were not advances in consciousness itself, but in: external coordination, symbolic control, memory storage outside the body. Civilizations arose, like neurons firing in isolation. But none of these spoke to the others on a scale. The garden progressed in patches.

With industry came something unprecedented: energy without locality, production without season, wealth without land, information without lineage. Humanity stopped living inside nature and began living in systems. This broke ancient psychic equilibria.

The middle class that emerged was not just an economic definition — it was ontological: a new group of people, no longer defined by soil, lineage, or myth. The internet is not a tool — it is a neurological event. For the first time in evolutionary history: every human can influence the symbolic environment of every other human, in real time and with no gatekeepers.

I imagine the coming New Humanity as neither left nor right, liberal nor conservative. It will be post-tribal, post-mythic, post-naïve and post-authority. It will act from inner guidance rather than ideological reflex. Which means the old architecture of meaning must dissolve. And that dissolution could be chaotic from the point of view of the present constituents of the garden.

The new humans will be participants in a shared interior world, where consciousness is shared and identity is no longer a fortress. Where truth is no longer tribal, and power is just informational or coercive. Having a growing shared realization about who we are.

The ego-based explosion that satisfies our greedy needs will collapse, and as a surge of awareness, the inner aspects of life surface. Evolution does not erase — it reorganizes. Asteroids do not create mammals; they remove the ecological monopoly that prevents new forms from arising. Our crisis may perhaps function similarly: ecological collapse, social fragmentation, epistemic breakdown, and spiritual exhaustion. They are threshold events for the regeneration of the garden, a new and widespread flowering.

The garden will bloom again, with the return of love, and not through intellectual pursuits. It will come through the collapse of illusions. When enough of the scaffolding falls— wealth myths, dominance myths, separation myths, intimacy will surface. Not through utopia. But through mutual vulnerability.

The New Humanity will not be smarter — it will be more perceptive. The next evolutionary step is not cognitive capacity; it is ontological sensitivity — the ability to feel reality directly, rather than interpret it endlessly. The era of intuition will come after the age of reason. The intellect helped to prepare the scaffolding. Now it will step aside.

The old structure of ideologies, institutions, algorithms and hierarchies will collapse, because they were built for minds, not for consciousness. These are containers without content when spiritual experience is absent. They multiply power, but not wisdom. They amplify voices, but not truth.

Living spirituality is the only antidote to the present planetary madness. The fragmentation cannot be healed by better information. It can only be healed by depth of presence, shared vulnerability, inner silence and compassion lived rather than moral posturing. The New Humanity will not be a social movement but a transformation in how humans experience being alive. Meher Baba once said: “The coming civilization of the New Humanity shall be ensouled not by dry intellectual doctrines but by living spiritual experience.”

The present labor pains we are feeling are the result of the friction between symbol and reality. We have built a vast symbolic universe. Now reality is demanding to be felt again. And the contraction is painful. But this pain of transformation is not failure. It is the muscle of awakening, learning to bear weight.

Much of the “new humanity” is already available inside each of us, here, now — beneath the avalanche of mind, history, identity, news, fear, desire, and story. I think the answer is both devastatingly simple and impossibly subtle. All of it is already here. But it is not yet owned by us. It is sometimes remembered as our egos dissolve. In those transient instances when one is only being conscious of being conscious— before nationality, biography, guilt, ambition, and fear rush in -like clerks opening shop. Instances are not produced by the mind but revealed when the mind has not yet arrived.

It is when the scaffolding of mind dwells on our names, egos, country, trauma, ideology, headlines, ambitions, news, names, billionaires, catastrophes, Trump’s, Musk’s, Taylor Swift’s, microplastics, asteroids — that the whole carnival of definitions storms in.

Because our nervous systems are trained to survive by narrating. But the new humanity will not be another creation of mental history, but a dawning, when we will remember that gap of consciousness that was there before narration.

Today, we are not drowning in information. We are drowning in unintegrated significance. Never have billions of nervous systems been so simultaneously exposed to planetary trauma, celebrity intimacy, political threat, ecological grief, and technological acceleration. All without a corresponding ritual or contemplative digestion process.

So, our psyche collapses into rage, fantasy, tribalism, conspiracy, nostalgia, numbness. Not because we are worse, but because our capacity for meaning has not caught up with our access to data, and because meaning is not based on data. What is unfolding unknowingly within each one, is not accumulation, not improvement, or moral achievement, but a gradual thinning of the boundary between awareness and identity. A thinning that opens and reveals those moments that we all have, when a room becomes an open field, horizons do not have boundaries or names, and the heart feels tender for no reason.

No, the new humanity will not arrive with banners, movements, or utopias. It will dawn as a walk one walks in that inner world, that faceless, unnamed and unclaimed walking we all do, softly, beyond the eyes of the others, unnoticed by history. Yet slowly changing the way.

The Gardener said to me, “…the different stages of the Garden are like fixed slides of a long movie and that maybe the garden goes from just a few flowers blooming here and there to keep the continuity of the fragrance but that there are also perhaps moments in which the garden has many flowers blooming at the same time. The one thing is that the garden is a blooming tool to transform earth into fragrance a perpetual machine with different cycles and rhythms.”

The Garden never stops seeding fragrant flowers even when the soil is poisoned. It does not evolve in a straight line; it does not go from cruel to kind, dark and then light. It breathes. Sometimes the soil is thin and only a few flowers manage to open. Sometimes conditions allow a sudden simultaneous blooming across cultures, continents, traditions — like spring after a long winter.

Those moments are not utopian accidents. They are phase transitions in collective nervous systems. The medieval mystics bloomed while plagues were decimating Europe. The abolitionists arose within the machinery of slavery. Compassion always intensifies inside crisis, not after it.

The Garden is a blooming tool to transform Earth into fragrance. Evolution is not only selecting for survival, but also for sensitivity. From stone to molecule to cell to nerve to conscience and planetary awareness. Each stage increases the universe’s capacity to feel itself. Cruelty is not the opposite of compassion; it is the immature nervous system reacting to intensity. Saintliness is not moral superiority; it is maturity of perception.

What is different now is that never before have billions of minds been able to see the whole garden at once. We are collectively sensing planetary vulnerability, interdependence, ecological consequences, shared trauma. This is why it feels like chaos. The roots are touching each other underground. And when roots intertwine, the soil heaves.

You do not become fragrance by trying to perfume the world. You become fragranced by allowing yourself to soften where fear once lived, letting presence replace opinion, offering kindness where performance used to rule. Seeking no audience, no ideology, no narrative. Just one more flower opening where a stone once was.