Wars, pandemics, and upheaval are not new to humanity. What is new is the speed, simultaneity, and constant exposure. Today, crises unfold in real time on our screens, in our markets, and in our conversations, with little space to recover before the next wave arrives. We are living in an era of continuous global crisis, and the human nervous system has never been exposed to this level of sustained planetary stress.

Something feels heavier than it used to. Ordinary life demands more energy than before. Small setbacks feel larger. Many people quietly believe they are failing. Passerby don’t seem happy, and often forget the power of a smile. It’s not you – and you’re not alone. Something is up and it’s time to talk about it.

a matter of perspective

The long-lasting implications of COVID-19

At the end of the day, we have to acknowledge that we have been at a war of sorts since February 2020. COVID had already broken out in China; millions of people in that corner of the globe were walking around with masks. The pandemic exposed how interconnected the world already was.

Gas prices plummeted because we were driving much less during the pandemic, and then rose again with the disappearance of lockdowns and the onset of a new war, and we all went back to the way things were before – silent acceptance and internal struggle that becomes a collective experience over time.

It seems like a scene from the distant past, but it was just five years ago. Rapid global events create economic swings, uncertainty, and loss of control in daily life – and humans struggle when unpredictability becomes constant.

Undeclared wars

Do you remember when the war between Russia and the Ukraine started? It has been four years. Coffee prices soared here from 90 cents to 1.50 euros – even 1.80 in some places – thanks to the rising cost of milk. Straight after came the price of flour and eggs – and there went a croissant from one euro to almost double the price, if not more. There were signs by the coffee shop cashiers advising clients that “due to the rising prices in milk, the price of coffee is now X.” We frowned and moved on. In between the lines though, these crises come at our expense without us being consulted and without any power to stop it. Over time, however, the psychological impact we pay leaves us feeling disconnected, fatigued, and frustrated.

After October 7, 2023, Israel recorded a sharp and significant rise in rates of anxiety, depression, and the use of psychiatric medications. A report by the National Institute for Health Policy (September 2025) revealed an increase of about 4% in the use of antidepressant and anti-anxiety medications. Additional data indicated an approximately 20% rise in the use of anti-anxiety drugs and about a 5% increase in the overall consumption of mental health medications. The data reflect concerning implications for public health, with an emphasis on widespread psychological distress following the war.

People are suffering from PTSD including panic attacks, constant anxiety, fear, sleep disorders, and depression. It’s an inconvenient topic for the world but many people have committed suicide after having survived the massacre at the Nova Music Festival including officers, survivors, and family relatives who could not deal with their personal grief and loss. That one day will bring on a decade of war-related illnesses that the healthcare system will have to sustain.

Point is, constant exposure to violence doesn’t stop at borders – it bleeds into our environment and daily security, activating fear circuits in the brain. The increasing tension around the world is creeping into our daily lives, creating unexplainable feelings of restlessness and perpetual disruption. This challenge is now compounded by environmental overload.

Environmental Overload

Climate change isn’t a distant threat – it’s background anxiety. Heat waves, floods, fires, storms, and droughts appear constantly in our news feeds. Salento’s olive trees stand grey and hollow across tens of kilometers, victims of the Xylella virus that forced hundreds of landowners across the region to accept the grave fate of their livelihoods and natural heritage. This instability erodes our sense of security: even the ground feels unsteady, stirring primal anxiety about a world turning against us. Even those AI-generated images of massive tsunami waves on social media are enough to stir emotions of anxiety.

It hits closer at the table, too. Reports of microplastics in Adriatic fish, chemicals in soil, and contaminants in water turn everyday nourishment into a source of doubt – what’s safe to eat? What’s safe to feed your small children who need food to grow? When basic sustenance feels unreliable, it amplifies the fatigue, blending with soaring food prices into a quiet, pervasive overload.

Economic volatility

Prices rise faster than incomes, energy costs fluctuate, food becomes more expensive – and even travel feels less secure. When basic needs become unpredictable, the nervous system stays on alert. Humans can handle hardship; what we struggle with is instability. These days, it’s constant. This makes it very hard to make a life plan because we can only know what’s happening today. Often times, it seem like the five-year forecast is more like wishful thinking than wise planning.

Personal burnout is often systemic, not personal failure.

Constant news exposure

Considering all these challenges and the flux of information constantly at us from the television, radio and social media, you would think we could easily turn down the volume and ignore it all – but we can’t. We are not isolated from wars just because they are far. Despite the sophistication of modern media, we experience crisis today just as the population did back in WW1, WW2 – if not worse. This means that at the basic human level, what we are currently living is impacting everyone across all age groups, everywhere.

According to DataReportal, as of late 2025 and early 2026, approximately 5.66 billion people are using social media worldwide, indicating that nearly two-thirds (63.9% to 68.7%) of the total global population are active users, with this number increasing by over 4% annually. This is incredible for the simple fact that it suggests there are billions of different feeds coming at us at any given moment. Social media exposes us to more human suffering, conflict, and comparison than any generation before us. The human brain evolved to process the experiences of a small tribe – not the emotions of billions. No wonder people are overwhelmed.

Metaphorically speaking, those kilometers of dead olive trees lingering in Puglia remind me that we are experiencing a collective overload. We are exposed to more than we were built to process.

we’re just ordinary people

Most of us are not policymakers, generals, economists, or leaders. We are parents, workers, students, caretakers. Yet we absorb the consequences of global conflict in very tangible ways – through rising costs, job uncertainty, emotional strain, and the quiet erosion of stability in daily life.

Humans evolved to deal with acute threats – a storm, a predator, a visible danger that appears and then passes. The body mobilizes, reacts, and then returns to baseline.

Ordinary people absorb the economic consequences of global conflict.

What we live with now is different. We exist inside chronic, abstract threats: pandemics, wars, economic instability, climate anxiety, constant streams of distressing information. These are dangers we cannot see directly, cannot influence, and cannot escape. There is no clear beginning, no clear end, and no moment when the nervous system receives the signal that it is safe to relax.

So we carry stress without a resolution point. Energy is spent, but nothing feels “finished.” Effort is made, but the ground keeps shifting.

Over time, this shows up quietly in daily life:

• fatigue that sleep doesn’t fully fix
• irritability over small things
• reduced motivation
• difficulty planning for the future
• frustration with projects that drain you
• and the creeping feeling of “what’s the point?”

These are not moral failures. They are human responses to prolonged uncertainty.

mastering the game of life

If you’ve been feeling run down for a long time, as if your effort isn’t carrying you as far as it should, then you are not alone. It doesn’t automatically mean you are doing something wrong. We are living inside forces larger than our individual lives, and even when they unfold far away, they still move through our economies, our conversations, and our nervous systems.

Today we don’t just witness events – we absorb them. Information travels instantly, emotion travels with it, and the human body does not fully distinguish between what is happening next door and what is happening across the world. As the poet Francis Thompson wrote, “Thou canst not stir a flower without troubling of a star.” We are interconnected, whether we want to be or not. Even the smallest action on Earth has a ripple effect that impacts the vast cosmos

So the question is not how to control the world. It’s how to remain steady inside it. Can we learn to approach life as if it were really the game of life? After all, games can be learned.

essential steps to creating a healthier environment and meaningful existence

In his book, Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder, Nassim Nicholas Taleb argues that we need shocks, randomness, volatility, and chaos to improve. We can’t just see ourselves as fragile victims, we need to learn to become anti-fragile. Taleb says modern life tries to remove uncertainty and risk, but that actually makes us more fragile, not safer.

Like muscles torn in exercise and restrengthened, or Puglia’s olive groves adapting via new shoots after Xylella, small stressors – hormesis – build resilience, Taleb urges subtracting fragilities (e.g., news overload), embracing small stressors (hormesis via meditation or gardening), and building optionality (generous acts, community ties). We cannot stop global crises, but these antifragile regulation practices regulate our nervous systems and nurture safety in our local ecosystems amid instability.

Create pockets of time for thinks you love

Whether it’s writing, painting, walking on the beach, volunteering, or listening to classical music, it’s important to create moments of magic that can stop everything and connect you back to the present moment.

Meditate – alone or with others

Quiet practices signal safety to the nervous system. Slowing the breath, sitting in stillness, or praying helps interrupt the constant state of alert we carry. Join our meditation circle to practice all these steps – information can be found below. If you’ve never done so and want to practice how to silence your mind, join a silent retreat like this one.

switch off your phone (really) and Reduce the noise

Reclaim presence from digital chaos and endless feeds by turning off your phone at night (or opt for Flight Mode); not only will you protect your brain cells from unnecessary radiation but you’ll get a good night’s sleep. During the day, experiment with Focus Mode to silent messages, notifications and calls. Staying informed is important, but constant exposure keeps the body in a stress loop. Limiting news intake restores mental space and reduces background anxiety.

Build yourself an in-person community

Humans regulate through connection. Conversations, shared meals, and physical presence remind the body that it is not alone. We can’t have deep conversations with everyone, but who says we need to? Think lightness of being whenever possible.

Practice daily generosity

Acts of kindness restore agency. When the world feels uncontrollable, small good actions re-anchor us in meaning. It could be anything from letting pedestrians pass the road, to buying an elder person’s coffee at the bar, bringing a plant to your child’s school, or leaving a tip for a nice waiter. Many people are struggling but we can’t see it – acting out of silent compassion can give you a great sense of peace and wholeness.

Eat real food

Nourishment is grounding. Choosing fresh, whole foods supports physical resilience and helps counter the sense that even basic things are unsafe. It’s not that hard to find honest farmers in Puglia.

Work with the land

Gardening, farming, or volunteering in agriculture reconnects us to cycles we can understand: planting, growing, harvesting. Nature shows continuity even in uncertain times.

spend time with children

Children represent continuity and future. Giving them attention and stability reminds us that life extends beyond crisis. Sit down and play, and stop taking life so seriously.

REFRAIN FROM TAKING POSITIONS

Assume that you know nothing and you will be less affected. Choose not to believe everything you read unless it happened to you. You’ll shave off 90% of your stresses. Keep politics outside friendships; you can’t control the former – you are not as informed as you think you are, and it’s not worth losing a good friend over, either.

CHANGE WHAT YOU CAN CONTROL

We live in a shared psychological climate. News, markets, and conflict ripple across the planet, shaping how we feel even on peaceful days. The olive trees of Salento were not weak; they were overwhelmed. Yet ecosystems regenerate, adapt, and send out new shoots. And so can we.

Be kind to yourself, and every one around you – even the reckless driver in front of you. Remember that the human brain was not wired to deal with such complexities in daily life. In a hunter gatherer society, all we had to do was survive, i.e. pursue food, shelter and safety – and reproduce. Today we have to do much more to survive.

Perhaps resilience today is not about pushing harder, but about staying alive inside heavy times – cultivating small spaces of stability, connection, and care – like new shoots that grow quietly, even among grey trunks.

RECOMMENDED READS

Ocean Vuong – On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (English)
Tiziano Terzani – ultimo giro di giostra (Italiano)
Melody Beattie – The Language of Letting Go
Ryan Holiday – The Obstacle is the Way
Kim Chestney – Radical Intuition
Nicholas Janni – Leader as Healer