When you love your job, you love your company, your position, and the fact that your employer puts food on your table.

You will do everything to keep your job—like agreeing to things you do not approve of, bending your core beliefs & philosophies—all in the name of esprit de corps and “company values.”

And then occasionally, you come out on the weekends with your co-workers—the very people you despise—to go bowling or swimming or dancing to some music you dislike at some fancy-smelling resort.

And given enough time, you get lucky. You draw the final cherry. After a million soft power points & spreading the sheets for others to lay comfortably in, you get that big promotion.

And it’s finally your turn to boss around the people you pretended to like—the jokers and horses you used to swim, joke & jab with.

Maybe you get the nicer car with the faux leather seats, perhaps a bigger keychain or a bigger bag (but not necessarily in that order).

But when you love your work, you sacrifice everything. You stay behind and work all hours of the night just to finish what you started—to balance, to align, to master.

You lock yourself behind a door, swallow the key, and force it out of you. You burn every usable piece of yourself, not for anyone, not even for yourself, but to shine a light on those images you see, those god-damned voices you hear in your head—because you believe that if you can hear them, it is your responsibility to make them exist in the world. To emancipate them from the darkness of oblivion.

Not for recognition or reward, but because to do otherwise would mean an unbearable madness. For it is what your body, what your bones demand—and you are only being true to your nature. However mad, and wild, and untamed it may be.

Because the very act of doing it fulfills your soul, that failing to satisfy it would leave you incomplete.

When you love your work, you don’t care about what people say. People talk, that’s what they do. But you do—and the doing is the talking.

It’s not your status, not your position; it’s not your car, not your paycheck, not the food on your table, nor the pat on your back.

It is not your house—you are the house, and it lives inside of you…

And to give it shelter is your life’s purpose.

When you love your work, you have so much to say, so much to give, so much to exude.

But when you love your job, you have nothing to say. Nothing to prove. So you simply let others speak for you.

That’s why I always say, be careful what you choose to love. And remember—that you can always...choose. Because if you don’t, someone will come to you bearing gifts and promises—you will smile, and the choice will have already been made for you.

Alas, in this life, you’re either one of two things: you’re either a sword swallower or a fire breather. You either swallow yourself whole or breathe yourself back into existence each passing day, hour, and minute that something or someone tries to take you away from it.

You choose.

Images via Unsplash. Photos by Mak, Jason An, and Umut Ozdemir.

Technology has always shaped the way we think and communicate. But if we continue to let our technology drive us, I fear that we will eventually lose everything that makes us human. Because in the end, we are defined, not just by what we talk about or occupy our minds with, but by how we speak and communicate. Our ancestors had stone tablets, papyrus, and parchment derived from sheepskin. Today, we have "smart" phones and the internet. Now, we are the sheep, and we let the machines write on us. Are we really okay with our history being written by ChatGPT?

And the worst part of it all is that the younger generations who are being raised in this modern, AI-first, "we want it all and we want it now" world, aren't being taught reading, writing and arithmetic. They're being taught scrolling, vlogging, and algorithmic. Morals and values are manufactured and used for "content" and "clout." And the thing that breaks my heart the most is that kids today learn about the world and themselves from Mr. Beast, instead of Dr. Seuss. These children are the ones who will one day inherit the world, and if we let them be now, with their tablets and iPhones and avatars, what's gonna become of the world?

It's all entertainment. "It's just a prank, bro..."

Twenty or thirty years ago, it was all fine, when this was all brand new. But the reality is that phones, the internet and social media are now commonplace—they're a part of our everyday lives. So, we should be more responsible, more careful, and intentional in how we use them—and especially, in how we teach our children to use them.

I am M. Jack Ferdinand and I started this project because I want to advocate for purposeful consumption and creation. I want to preserve morals and good values, language and eloquence, and the memory of all those beautiful things that used to exist in the world—like coffee shop dates, hours-long telephone calls with the one you love, phone booths, walking in the park, hot cocoa, and FM radio. All the grit, dirt, and tears in between.

Because if the internet will be around for hundreds of years, then I might as well leave good things behind. But above all, I want to inspire a way of being in the world without being completely dependent on technology. This is not a rejection of tech and innovation, but a reminder that our tools should enhance and elevate what is already there, not erase and replace them completely.

I see myself in this as simply a messenger, a scribe. And this undertaking is already my "big act."

The next one is entirely yours.

Scroll free or join the rebellion—the renaissance.

Be the hand that holds the spoon, as I like to say.

deep&;

deep&;—a stylized shorthand for deprivation & anticipation—a phrase I first wrote years ago as part of a larger collection of essays on my experiences in love & drugs. Now, it describes something deeper and more dire: the tension of modern digital life.

By M. Jack Ferdinand

Follow me around the internet:

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https://youtube.com/@guidedcollapse

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But it is this kind of groupthink that has made the real, valuable things scarce. People can't seem to remember that all the good things in life take time to realize.

And it is their complete reliance on technology and daily use of social media that is ruining their perception of time and value—which is what breeds a dangerous kind of entitlement.

If we let things continue in this course, there may come a time when we may never be able to tell apart real from manufactured.

We must pause, slow down, and reflect. We already have more than we will ever need. Almost anything is easily attainable—and in order for that to become a good thing, we must first learn to use things carefully and with the right intentions.

People need to learn that when they take the utility out of things, the rest is just unnecessary dressing.

In the ancient sentiment of Seneca, "life is long, if you know how to use it."

And I say, life is not short. But your attention span most probably is.

In this debut episode of The Guided Collapse, M. Jack Ferdinand discusses how the internet and modern technology are changing the world—influencing language and expression, and our ability to connect with people and real, human moments.

But more importantly, how AI and social media are damaging the youth and stealing away their childhood—and how this directly affects our future.

This is not simply a podcast, but a journal, an act of preservation—of the things that make us human, or those that once defined our reason for being.

And finally, it is also a call to action, for people to deeply inspect themselves and reflect on how they interact with their devices and how they use the internet.

This is where it begins. This is where we get to make things right.

Will you heed the call, or will you continue scrolling away into oblivion?

I am tired—tired of the mediocre, the irreverent, and the bad. The mantle of darkness that envelops the world is thicker than you think. There is too much talk of nothing and most are incapable of withdrawing when now should be the time of reflection.

I am tired of seeing good people diminished, silhouetted by flash, bodies bringing down minds, and voices muffled by the volume and chaos of it all. I am tired of those making a living out of the dying good things. And the more I keep myself distanced from all of it, the more involved I become. Alas, I can no longer keep in the shadows.

I am not some black woman fighting for better wages;
I am not a nine-year-old boy looking to start a fight;
I am not some entitled pedestrian preaching about justice;
I am not some transfigured beau queen all dressed up for Halloween;
I am not a blind man looking to join the army or miss the union forever;
I am not some rainbow parade they wouldn’t let march in the cathedral;
I am not some cross-eyed sexless spectator who cannot keep his things about;
I am not a vomit-king champion glutton denied an extra filling;
I am not a smiley too pleased of selling you things I do not care about;
I am not some 21st century brat shouting at some black woman because I’ve coveted all that I’ve been given.

I am not any of these things, but is it okay that I, too, am tired?

I look around and see so much hate and hollow, so much frenzy and atrophy, and degradation in the things people drown themselves in and force upon others. People cannot stop talking about money and how to make money; or buying things and selling things; and passionately talking about doing things but never actually doing them.

I am so bored of it all.

I am not an activist (anymore), I am no protester, no saint, I am far from the voice of my generation. I could watch it all burn for all I care, and I don’t mind fading away. But when I look around I also see my brothers and sisters, five, six, seven, and all other children, growing up around all of this turmoil and noise pollution, picking up on such—unsavory things. No one’s even teaching them about Dr. Seuss anymore.

And every child should learn about Dr. Seuss…

His books, anyway.

So, maybe I can see some magic yet—there is always magic where no one’s looking. And maybe, just maybe, there is still enough left for everybody else.

This is the deep&; (or Deprivation & Anticipation). This is what I have to say about the world, but mostly it’s about what I can give, should you choose to accept.

I’m just an old-fashioned man who writes too much about long-lost, old-fashioned, far-away things; and maybe I often enthuse about the madness in beauty—of art, culture, & most pretty things, but I’m not that sophisticated. In fact, I’m sweet, simple, kind.

And, I’ve got just something else to say.

In the end, anyway, it will not matter who I am,
for I just want to give you some green eggs and ham.

Have them wherever or don’t have them at all.

But before you throw them away, walk with them in the park.

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