Remembering Wholeness in a Fractured World

Breaking Free from Generational Cycles of Validation, Silence, and Displacement

Many young adults, especially between 18 and 30, find themselves caught in a relentless cycle of proving a pattern shaped by early environments where worth was measured by performance. While the desire for safety is natural, true liberation begins when one can face the void and recognise how the universe mirrors back one’s own presence…

I have often heard people who exit this 30 age bracket to feel a sense of relief and calm, thinking thank god I am safe from this constant need to prove my worth. This internalisation of deep held trauma in your system could also be the result of feeling a deep sense of pressure to conform, perform, either for your instant care-givers or for those who give you a sense of safety. Do not get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with people perceiving or looking for safety in others, what they need is a deep sense of appreciation until they learn to stare at the abyss and find the unique, mystical, even mysterious ways in which the universe stares back at them. In doing so, this work embodies what I believe is an urgent imperative today: to align thoughts, words, and actions. It doesn’t merely chronicle suffering; it strives to reconnect fractured narratives, to bridge the “growing spaces between those who were friends not too long ago.”

I also try to showcase that historical trauma is not just a past event but a living legacy, one that is carried across generations, often unconsciously. The question is no longer whether history has shaped our inner worlds, but whether we are willing to look inward long enough to name its ghosts. In a world still shaped by the logic of division: of borders, categories, and binaries, this kind of inward reckoning may be our only path toward wholeness. The struggle here is not merely emotional; it is also energetic. Our personal energy field—or what some might call the aura—isn’t just metaphorical. It actively interacts with our surroundings, echoing our internal state.

When the external world is fractured, our own field becomes chaotic, dragging us deeper into cycles of proving and pleasing. In that distortion, we often mistake inherited expectations for authentic purpose, performing old wounds as if they were original aspirations.

Let me explain what I mean.

Take, for instance, the young woman who becomes a lawyer—not because she loves the law, but because her parents told her from a young age that success means stability, and stability means prestige. She grows up believing this desire is her own, until one day, in the quiet after a burnout, she wonders whose life she’s really living.

Or the young man who becomes the relentless caregiver in his friend group: always available, always helpful. But beneath the kindness is an unconscious script: if I am useful, I will be loved. He doesn't know he's still seeking the approval of an emotionally absent parent through every "yes" he cannot say no to. These are not isolated stories. They're symptoms of something larger.

When society rewards external markers—wealth, visibility, conformity, we internalise the idea that our worth must be proven. And when we grow up in fractured systems—traumatized families, post-colonial nations, algorithmic echo chambers—our energy fields mirror that disarray. We become reactive instead of rooted.

We carry forward dreams that were never truly ours.

We wear ancestral longing like armor and call it ambition.

We overachieve not out of inspiration, but because silence feels unsafe.

Why do we still feel stuck in our pursuit of development, especially in a nation that often seeks validation from Western frameworks? This yearning to be accepted by the "developed world" reflects our earlier theme: external proving over internal alignment. At an individual level, we might think we’re engaged in self-development for noble reasons, but often it's about conforming to capital-centric or elite-driven models of success. On the societal level, this manifests as a technocratic rat race that ignores the deeper question: What kind of development do we actually need? We must remember: we have one Earth. In our push for human-centred progress, we risk losing the synergy that could arise from aligning the self with local, national, and planetary wellbeing. Professions that focus on inner and collective development: like education, healing, and the arts are often dismissed as "soft" or "abstract." Meanwhile, massive investments in defense, surveillance, and techno-militarism are seen as the pinnacle of advancement. This reflects a flawed value system that equates speed with success, and control with power.

But authentic development is not always fast. As Viktor Frankl taught¹, the space between stimulus and response is where our power lies. To pause is not to regress; it is to resist and reclaim. Slowness, care, and reflection are not oppositional to progress—they are its foundation. Those who pause to heal and feel are not opting out of development; they are embodying its truest form.

Photo by Yap

What does it take to reach that pivotal moment of realising that a rigid adherence to what we already know is the very thing preventing us from awakening or growing?

We attempt to fill the inner void by appeasing a generation already burdened by its own unresolved expectations. But if we are to break free from this generational curse, we must stop watering the same plant that once bore sour fruit. We’ve read so much literature in its depth that talks about the universe being a hologram, a mirror, a living held truth that keeps reflecting back to you.

This deep held realisation hit me when I was teaching grade 5 students which continually brought home the fact that it is okay to still choose joy in a world that is ever so prone to be forcing you to be in survival mode.

The Burden of Proving

We are constantly influenced by our environment and, in turn, influencing it. It might even be okay to find ourselves in spaces not obsessed with individualism or self-aggrandizement. But this raises a critical question: how do we pursue personal growth when the societal mirror doesn't reflect it back? We blame society, yet we forget that we are society. This cycle of proving is not merely personal; in the Indian subcontinent, it takes on collective and historical dimensions.

Indian psychiatry has remained oddly silent about the trauma of Partition, ignoring its widespread psychological consequences. Was the trauma so immense that even mental health professionals, themselves affected, were unable to articulate its effects? This "stunned silence" has left wounds unaddressed.²

Early psychiatric journals, like the Indian Journal of Neurology and Psychiatry (est. 1949), focused more on syndromes from European wars than the trauma of Partition. This disconnection from lived realities created a rift in how mental health was understood and treated. The consequences extended into civic institutions: hospitals, medical staff, and civil society became fragmented, sometimes even targets of communal violence. Unlike the Holocaust, which had trials and memorials, Partition lacked an open reckoning. The result: a moral ambiguity and psychological unease that still smoulders within our collective unconscious.

Dissecting the Historical Trauma

We often assume that historical traumas lie behind us—sealed in textbooks, official narratives, or commemorative dates. But what happens when the past lives on in our bodies, in the silences of our families, in the very architecture of our minds? The book The Psychological Impact of the Partition of India, edited by Sanjeev Jain and Alok Sarin, is an arresting example of how personal memory collides with political history, revealing the unresolved wounds that shape our psychological and social landscapes. Unhealed wounds like being under the shoe of a coloniser and not knowing where and how to step up, continuously proving, continuously wanting the best for others and the self but never feeling enough, the white man’s burden has been conveniently paved the way for the brown man’s burden to prove our inherit worth, of how we are supposed to act. Ethical allegiance is not a passing belief, it’s a core devotion, often held so tightly that it becomes difficult to release, even when it no longer serves our growth.

I really despise this hustle or grind culture that does not for a second take into account how we need to prove so much and when the ideologies that we so easily give in, like proving who is a patriot and who isn’t, which system that is sit before we agree to let something define us. The concept of the "white man's burden" emerged during the colonial period as a justification for imperial rule and intervention in non-Western societies. The need to continually "prove" this burden stemmed from its utility as a tool to legitimize and perpetuate colonial power and influence, particularly by asserting the supposed inferiority or "primitiveness" of the colonized populations.

Key aspects related to the continual proving of this concept include:

Justification of Colonial Rule: The idea of a "burden" provided a moral and civilisational rationale for the British to annex territories and establish institutions like hospitals and asylums. It allowed the colonisers to frame their presence as a benevolent effort to bring progress and order to "uncivilised" societies, rather than an act of exploitation or social control.

A central element in proving this burden was the construction of a "native mind" or "other mind" that was deemed "incapable of deep psychological or political thought". This "distancing," subtly developed and was reinforced to become a "self-evident truth," which then served as a basis for further discussion and action that denied the individuality of the colonised people and viewed them as groups based on religion, caste, or tribe.

Dismissal of Non-Western Mental Health and Society: European universalism and secularization were considered insufficient for understanding psychological illness in non-Western societies, leading to these societies being viewed as "flawed" or "primitive." This perspective suggested that patients in these societies were "not psychologically minded enough" for psychotherapies and were best treated with physical methods, effectively reversing progress to a mid-nineteenth-century colonial stance.

Figures like T.A. Wise, a superintendent at Dacca Asylum in the mid-nineteenth century, attributed lower rates of insanity and milder illnesses in India to a "lower level of civilisation" and the "credulous attitude" of its people when exposed to modernity. This view, despite criticisms, contributed to the idea that a shared psychological space between Europeans and Indians was less frequent, as the issue of "race" increasingly dominated Indian society by the end of the 1850s.

Application of Pseudo-scientific Justifications: Ideas that emerged in Europe, such as social Darwinism, eugenics, and the preoccupation with psychological traits to define racial identities (e.g., Jewishness or Aryan-ness), were extended to South Asia. This led to the assertion that Hindu and Muslim identities were "similarly incompatible," providing a cynical ploy to justify divisions and "final solutions" based on perceived biological or cultural differences.

In essence, the continuous "proving" of the white man's burden was a mechanism to maintain a hierarchy that justified colonial practices, influenced the development and application of medical and psychiatric services, and fostered divisive narratives based on perceived "differences" rather than universal humanistic principles.

In our everyday interactions then and now with the colonial and post-colonial, this paradox—of numbness coexisting with deeply embedded pain—mirrors a larger cultural phenomenon: the stunning silence around trauma in Indian mental health discourse. Psychiatry, for decades, remained conspicuously mute on the psychological fallout of the Partition, as if the violence was too immense to be spoken of within clinical or public frameworks.

Photo by Social History Archive

And yet, this silence is political. It reflects a "partitioning of minds" just as much as it reflects a geographical division. We need to dismantle the myth of empirical neutrality in mental health and deeply understand how colonial ideologies—steeped in assumptions about the "primitive native mind" not only shaped but restricted further how trauma was understood, or ignored, in postcolonial South Asia. The notion that non-Western patients were not “psychologically minded enough” for therapy reveals how medical systems, influenced by empire, reproduced hierarchies of intellect, emotion, and care.

We need to ask what truths have we accepted simply because they were presented as scientific? What have we failed to feel, name, or heal because we lacked a framework that honored subjective pain as real?

Mimetic Desire and the Inheritance of Pain

René Girard's theory of mimetic desire teaches us that we often want what others want—our desires are not born from within but are contagious, socially transmitted. This leads us into endless loops of imitation and comparison, a performance of unresolved pain. We try to become palatable to people who have not processed their own alienation. What appears to be striving is, in truth, a re-enactment of inherited suffering. Sometimes, this re-enactment takes the form of rescue.

People rush to save others—not because they’ve made peace with their own wounds, but because witnessing someone else’s pain activates the ache they haven’t yet dared to meet within themselves. Like a wounded puppy, they become reactive—tender, fearful, and urgent—not out of true empathy, but out of a subconscious hope: If I can fix them, maybe I’ll finally feel whole.

But this kind of rescue is not love. It’s projection in disguise. It is the illusion of healing—nurturing others to avoid tending to the void within. We try to be saviors because being still with our own pain feels unbearable. In doing so, we confuse attachment for care, repair for connection. We attempt to quiet the noise inside by becoming caretakers outside. But love rooted in avoidance cannot liberate either party. What it creates is a cycle of co-dependence, of over-functioning in the name of being "good," while silently begging to be loved in return. True compassion begins only when we stop using others as placeholders for the care we refuse to give ourselves.

Awakening, paradoxically, does not come from striving but from surrender. It begins with a pause—a breath, or several—and the quiet realization that perhaps what the sages said all along was true: peace cannot be forced. As quantum observers have suggested, the sooner you believe you're already living your desired state, the sooner it manifests. The more we try to control the outcome, the further it slips from our grasp.

Development, Disillusionment, and the Race for External Validation

Why do we still feel stuck in our pursuit of development, especially in a nation that often seeks validation from Western frameworks? This yearning to be accepted by the "developed world" reflects our earlier theme: external proving over internal alignment.

At an individual level, we might think we’re engaged in self-development for noble reasons, but often it's about conforming to capital-centric or elite-driven models of success. On the societal level, this manifests as a technocratic rat race that ignores the deeper question: What kind of development do we actually need?

We must remember: we have one Earth. In our push for human-centered progress, we risk losing the synergy that could arise from aligning the self with local, national, and planetary wellbeing.

Professions that focus on inner and collective development—like education, healing, and the arts—are often dismissed as "soft" or "abstract." Meanwhile, massive investments in defense, surveillance, and techno-militarism are seen as the pinnacle of advancement. This reflects a flawed value system that equates speed with success, and control with power.

But authentic development is not always fast. As Viktor Frankl taught, the space between stimulus and response is where our power lies. To pause is not to regress; it is to resist and reclaim. Slowness, care, and reflection are not oppositional to progress—they are its foundation. Those who pause to heal and feel are not opting out of development; they are embodying its truest form.

Zero Limits: Returning to the Origin Point

Logotherapy, Frankl's meaning-centered therapy, helps individuals uncover the deeper "logos" or purpose of their life. It introduces the idea of a "noö-dynamic" tension between what we are and what we strive to become. This healthy tension drives meaningful change. But what if we paired this with an even deeper surrender?

Dr. Ihaleakala Hew Len's concept of the "Zero State" popularised through Zero Limits offers a method to align with the Divine by dissolving inherited programs and beliefs. The Zero State is where nothing exists, but everything is possible. Intentions, in this framework, are limitations of the ego. Real transformation happens not through effort, but through inner clearing and trust.³

Joe Vitale, a proponent of this method, attributes his success not to planning or control, but to alignment with this origin state. In his view, miracles and opportunities flow effortlessly when the internal field is clear. This aligns beautifully with the essay's core insight: we are not here to endlessly prove, but to deeply align. The ultimate goal of cleaning is to return to the "zero state," a place of pure love, void, and emptiness where no limiting thoughts, words, deeds, memories, programs, or beliefs exist, and anything is possible. When your mind is at zero, inspiration from the Divine can flow freely, leading to astonishing miracles and greater peace.

In essence, you do not need to intellectually understand or specifically identify the ancestral trauma in order to heal it. By taking 100% responsibility for whatever arises in your experience—recognizing it as a shared memory or program, potentially ancestral—you can begin to clear it. Through the continual application of the Ho’oponopono phrases to the Divine, you initiate a process of transmutation. These “erroneous thoughts” and “painful memories” dissolve within you, and as you heal, the ripple effect extends to all those connected to that memory: across ancestral lines, into collective consciousness, and into the world at large.

This healing also asks us to soften our resistance to receiving. According to the Law of Reversibility, when we desire something but are stuck in a state of lack, we unconsciously overcompensate, trying to prove that we already possess what we fear we don’t. We torment ourselves with internal justifications and outward displays, when what is actually needed is the opposite: to act from the state of the wish fulfilled. To imagine, feel, and move as if wholeness is already yours. This shift in perception lifts the body out of freeze, fawn, or survival modes and brings it closer to thriving. It quiets the nervous system, lowers cortisol levels, and reorients your energy field toward alignment and trust. Healing, then, becomes not a performance of worthiness, but a quiet return to the truth that you already are.

We need a revolution that is not loud, but still. One that honors the personal, the ancestral, and the planetary all at once. One that chooses presence over proving, stillness over speed, and inner clarity over external validation. From Zen to Girard, from Partition to Frankl, from Dispenza to Gandhi, the message is consistent:

We heal not by running faster, but by returning to the origin point—where nothing exists, yet everything is possible.

it’s 2040. we listened.⁴

Photo by Valentin Lacoste

forests have grown back where malls once sprawled. community gardens feed millions. energy comes from sun and wind, not smoke and fire. borders have softened as solidarity grew. the great turning wasn’t easy, but we did it. we turned from profit to planet, from extraction to care. kids learn bird calls before brand names. the air smells like eucalyptus, not exhaust. we remembered how to live together.

1. Frankl, Viktor E. Man's Search for Meaning. Translated by Ilse Lasch, Beacon Press, 2006.

2. Jain, Sanjeev, and Alok Sarin, editors. The Psychological Impact of the Partition of India. Sage Publications, 2018.

3. Vitale, Joe, and Ihaleakala Hew Len. Zero Limits: The Secret Hawaiian System for Wealth, Health, Peace, and More. John Wiley & Sons, 2007.

4. “I think we need to accept that the climate crisis isn't just about carbon – it's about colonisation, capitalism, exploitation, and control.” Substack Notes, Earthly Education, Published today [August 5, 2025], substack.com/@earthlyeducation/note/c-142029660.