Sometimes, I find myself in silent dialogue with the dead—my father, grandfather, mentors, and friends who shaped me. These conversations linger in my psyche, their voices etched into my being. They don’t speak back, of course, but I know them so well that I can almost hear their cadence, their energy, their wisdom. It’s strange—when they were alive, I wasn’t always sure they understood me. Yet now, in their absence, their influence resonates louder, grounding me in ways I never expected.
But it wasn’t just the men who shaped me. My mother’s influence is undeniable. She was a powerful, resilient woman who, had she been given the opportunities of today’s professional world, would have easily dominated or outshone most in her community. Feeling the weight of her suppression has been a lifelong exploration for me. I’ve seen echoes of it in the mother of my children, who experienced a bit more progress, but was still held back by old stories and outdated norms—norms that nearly cost her her life. I’ve also watched two other partners, both women raised in Texas, wrestle with the false narratives that confined them. These narratives emphasized dutiful service to outdated dogmas and over-sexualized identities, stifling their true potential.
Yet, I’ve also had the privilege of witnessing the latter of these women rise into the full power of her natural abilities—with business, with people, with life. It’s rare, but it brings hope. Hope that more people, especially women, can realize their full potential, aligned with their innate talents, in a society that, while seemingly in chaos, is also open to reform. Perhaps this chaos is the necessary upheaval for a stronger connection to our true humanity, essence, and spiritual nature. Maybe the collective is, or is beginning to, develop a soul.
Life feels like a riddle, doesn’t it? We’re constantly asked for context, for headlines, but face-to-face connection is rare. I often imagine explaining today’s world to those who shaped me, using their language, imagery, landmarks. “The Cold War is back. New viruses are here. People wear masks—not like Star Wars, but like old Westerns. Blacks and women are demanding justice. Abortion is back on the table. The middle class is vanishing. Homelessness is everywhere. Pot is legal. Phones and the Internet would blow your mind. And then there’s the violence—an 18-year-old in Texas killed children, posted his plans online, and no one stopped him. The institutions stood paralyzed.”
These men and women, who faced wars, depressions, droughts, and societal constraints, couldn’t have imagined this chaos. They fought to build lives of dignity, yet today’s challenges feel like shadows they never had to confront. My father, for instance, battled organized crime in the 1960s, but his greatest gift to me was guiding me out of that small-town life. My grandfather, rooted in his Native American heritage, taught me to love the land—a wisdom that fueled my career in engineering and geology. And my mother, though stifled by her time, instilled deep respect for resilience and untapped potential. Their struggles and lessons shaped me, even as I wrestled with my own thirst for justice.
The issues I bring to their spirits aren’t new. Inequality, suppression, dominance—these shadows have always been with us. But today, social media amplifies them, exposing truths we once ignored. Whistleblowers can now shine a light on the darkest corners, yet the platforms themselves remain unvetted, their accountability unclear. Who listens? Who acts? The line between news and entertainment blurs, and the collective consciousness moves mountains, but often without grounding in reality.
Texas, where I live much of the time these days, embodies this paradox. It’s booming with business, wealth, and opportunity, yet homelessness and violence persist. The collective shadow looms large, and we struggle to face it. Historically, we’ve suppressed it, fearing that confronting it might unravel everything. But perhaps it’s time to try—a new bargain, a deeper honesty, a willingness to examine our desires versus our needs.
The collective is powerful, but it’s the individual who must lead the way. Transparency challenges us to rethink our values, to find stability in chaos. My father and grandfather, from wherever they are, seem to know this better than I do. My mother, too, would likely see the cracks in the system and opportunities for change. They prepared me as best they could, but the rest is up to me. It always was.
So here I am, pressing forward, trusting that the answers lie not in the collective but in the courage of individuals to face their shadows, to find common ground, and to forge a new path. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary. Because in the end, isn’t that the only way forward?
RoachCreative 