
“Conquer anger with non-anger; conquer badness with goodness; conquer meanness with generosity; conquer dishonesty with truth.” – Dhammapada, Verse 223
I’ve been broken. Over the past year, I’ve slowly lost myself. The world was turning me bitter, angry, hateful. Or, more accurately, I was allowing myself to turn me those things. I lost my way more times than I care to admit.
My patience thinned, my words sharpened, and my energy turned toward rage rather than understanding. I wish I could say it was all in service of the greater good — but if I’m honest, it wasn’t. It was frustration and ego, plain and simple.
The truth is, watching America become an authoritarian fascism regime has shaken me. Seeing the rise of rhetoric and policies that undermine democracy, equality, and compassion has felt like watching a slow-motion disaster. And somewhere along the way, I let that fear and anger corrupt me.
Make no mistake – Teemu Mussolini is a horrific person. The worst humanity produces. It’s been said ad nauseum, so no reason to list the LONG list of his disgusting atrocities. The people around him are just as bad. But what has shaken me most is that Americans put him there despite all the clear as day reasons not to. It been incredibly difficult accepting this reality – especially because family and friends I love support this nonsense.
And don’t forget, he’s on the Epstein List.
I’ve been broken. I’ve swore more than I ever have before. Not in a casual, offhanded way, but in a seething, targeted way meant to cut deep. I spoke to people — and about people — with words that were vile and contemptuous. I told the truth, yes, but I delivered it with the sharp edge of a blade rather than the open hand of an invitation.
I’ve been broken. I remember conversations where I should have been the calm one — the bridge-builder, the example of how to speak truth with dignity. Instead, I matched the heat in the room with a nuclear assault. I slammed my point down like a hammer rather than laying it out as a foundation for understanding. I walked away from interactions not feeling proud of my defense of the truth, but ashamed of the way I defended it.
I’ve been broken. And here’s the thing: the truth, when spoken in violence, rarely changes hearts. It may win points with the ego; but when the ego wins, no one wins. It may shut someone down. But it doesn’t open a door for transformation. It doesn’t model the kind of justice I want to see in the world. It doesn’t help the cause.
I take that back. The truth, when spoken in violence, does change hearts… the heart of the speaker. It corrupts it. It corrupts the spirit, too. When we speak violently, we hurt ourselves more than we do others.
I’ve been broken. I forgot my own principles — the philosophical underpinnings that have always kept me grounded. Stoicism teaches us that we cannot control the actions of others, only our own. It teaches us that courage is not the absence of fear, but the choice to act rightly in spite of it. It reminds us that justice must be pursued without hatred, and that temperance is strength under control.
Over the past year, I failed to live these lessons more acutely than I have prior. I let external chaos dictate my internal state. I let the behavior I opposed influence the behavior I embodied. In trying to fight the tide, I became swept up in it.
So, this is my promise — to myself, and to anyone reading this.
I am fixing myself.
I will still call out lies, bigotry, and injustice — but I will do so without becoming what I oppose. I will practice the discipline to speak with clarity instead of venom, to act with resolve instead of rage, and to meet the ugliest parts of humanity without letting them corrupt my own humanity in return.
The fight ahead will require strong voices, but strength isn’t the same as shouting. It will require fervor, but fervor doesn’t have to come with cruelty. It will require truth, but truth can be delivered in a way that invites others to join in, rather than driving them further away.
I want to embody what one of my heroes taught: “Speak the truth, but not to punish. Your speech should be of such a nature that it can be received by the other person. Speak with love, and you can help the other person to correct himself.”
Thích Nhất Hạnh often taught that the way we speak matters just as much as the truth we’re trying to convey — because our words are seeds, and whether they grow depends on how they’re planted.
I will go so far as to extend this idea to our behaviors and actions, not just our words. Act and behave in a way that is dignified for you, so that it is received by others as dignified.
I want to be part of building the kind of world I’d be proud to hand to the next generation. And that means embodying the values I believe in — not just in my words, but in my tone, my presence, and my example.
So, I do what I have tried to do for my entire life. I find role models and ideas to help recenter me. From the many who have guided me through books, like Marcus Aurelius, Abrham Lincoln, Ulyses S. Grant, Frederick Douglass, Thích Nhất Hạnh, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., to the many friends living a great example to which I can find inspiration, I take these ideas and remember that I have a manifesto to follow. I have a code that I won’t always live up to, but it’s something I can come back to when I need the reminder to get back on track, to get better.
Because the world doesn’t just need people who are right. It needs people who are good.
The HR Philosopher’s Activist Manifesto
- Seek Justice — Let fairness guide every act.
- Stand Courageous — Speak truth, even when it costs you.
- Act With Temperance — Anger fuels you; wisdom steers you.
- Follow Wisdom — Learn, adapt, and think beyond the moment.
- Show Compassion — Fight systems, not souls.
- Stay Grounded — Control your mind, not the outcome.
- Be Steadfast — Stay the course when others falter.
- Live the Example — Let your conduct be your loudest protest.
- Honor Humanity — See yourself in every person you meet.
- Do the Work — Not for glory, but because it’s right.
When you break, there is always the option to fix yourself. Finding my way means remembering what I truly stand for and want to be. No one can take that from me except me.
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