Retro: One Step Beyond: Reflections on the Death of Ego and the Fate of a Species.

 One Step Beyond: Reflections on the Death of Ego and the Fate of a Species

April 15th, Kuala Terengganu

More and more of humanity are waking up to the simple yet terrifying truth: the human species is driven primarily by the ego—and the demise of this ego may be our only hope for survival. Not just as individuals, but as a collective, as caretakers of this fragile planet spinning in a vast and silent universe.

Among the younger generation especially, those more informed and globally aware, there is a growing hunger to understand the mind, the heart, and the mystery of consciousness. Our survival depends not on wealth, technology, or conquest—but on self-awareness, on piercing through the illusion of separateness to see ourselves as part of a greater whole.

For centuries we have been seekers, pilgrims of the inner world. From the shamans and sages to the prophets and philosophers, humanity has tried to decode its own reflection. We’ve tried to grasp the weight of our presence, the ripple of our choices—on each other, our communities, our nations, and even the unseen realms beyond our comprehension.

Yet somewhere along the way, we turned our backs on this path. We’ve allowed the ego to rise as a false god—feeding it with greed, hate, and ignorance until it consumed our humanity. From the street gutters to the gilded towers of Dubai, from the starving to the gluttonous, we chase the same illusions. We race like rats, scrounging endlessly for more, driven by fear disguised as ambition.

We have become blind stewards of our own destruction.
We have ignored the earth’s cries.
We have treated extinction like a statistic and pollution like an afterthought.
And worst of all, we have deceived ourselves into believing we are separate from it all—that our consciousness is a closed system.

But the truth is more humbling.
We are not isolated souls—we are threads in an ancient tapestry.
We are not individuals with personalities—we are conditioned minds, dancing in the play of Maya.

Sometimes I feel like a broken record playing to an empty room. I hear myself saying the same things again and again—trying to make sense of nonsense, trying to make peace with a world that no longer feels like home. Maybe I write to kill time, or maybe I write to document my descent into the void—or my slow climb out of it. I don’t know anymore.

This writing... it is my healing.
It is the record of a soul that has walked through fire and shadow.
It is a testimony of a tired man—75 years old—who has seen beauty and sorrow and survived his own self-destruction.

I still have faith, though—faith in a Lord who is Forgiving and Merciful.
A Lord of Compassion, who knows my every flaw.
And I remind myself daily: to love God is to also love myself. Even the broken pieces. Even the shame and the madness. Only then can I surrender to Him fully, drowning in the ocean of His mercy.

I’m tired.
Not just physically, but at the soul level.
My journey has been long, filled with sinkholes and trap doors.
I’ve fallen from grace more than once—sometimes in ways that defy logic or morality.
But I am still here.
And so long as I am, I will write.

Because even if it’s all Maya, it is my Maya.