SHANE​ WARREN

Life throws curveballs. Sometimes, it feels like a relentless game of dodgeball where the balls are stress, setbacks, and unexpected challenges. But here’s the good news: you can learn to catch those balls with grace and bounce back stronger.

I’ve been noticing something lately, and I’m trying to name it without turning into the cranky guy yelling at clouds. It’s this… vibe. A kind of social theatre that plays out in comment sections, on talkback, at family dinners, in workplace kitchens. The place where someone says, “I’m just asking questions,” but it doesn’t feel like a question. It feels like a door gently closing.

There’s a name for this weird little void we tumble into every year, that space between Christmas and New Year’s Eve when time stops making sense, calories stop counting, and the line between “afternoon nap” and “existential crisis” gets deliciously blurry. It’s called Gooch Week.

If you squint, the ban looks sensible. The harms are real; the stories are heartbreaking; the platforms have been slow to grow up. A hard age line feels like action.

As we roll into the end-of-year season - family dinners, office parties, group catch-ups, and those “let’s do this every year!” barbecues - there’s always that one person.

Every few years, a chorus emerges: “What if we ran government like a business?” The logic feels neat and tidy. CEOs cut costs, strike deals, and whip teams into shape. Surely, they could do the same with a nation-state.

There are few theological distortions as remarkable, and as dangerous, as the rise of prosperity theology. Rainn Wilson’s words land with force: how did a radical peasant from Galilee, who preached solidarity with the poor, end up rebranded as a cultural mascot for wealth, nationalism, and “God wants you to have a bigger house”?

Suicide is preventable. Together, we can build a world where fewer families know this grief. A world where people don’t wait until it’s “too late” to ask for help. A world where, instead of silence, there is solidarity.

Those who have worked with me know I carry a deep fascination with politics. Not in the shallow theatre of who “wins the day,” but in the deeper way policy shapes how we live, how we feel, and even how we connect with one another. Politics, at its heart, is human psychology in action. And if we take a moment to look honestly at what’s happening in the world today, it’s hard not to feel a little unsettled.

Let’s get curious. Let’s ask: Are we raising athletes, or are we raising humans? Are we coaching discipline, or are we conditioning dominance? Are we honouring the game, or just keeping score? Because when we let sport teach emotional intelligence, accountability, and grace under pressure, we build people who can handle life, not just the win.