SHANE​ WARREN

Personal growth and emotional resilience are journeys we all embark on at some point. Sometimes, the path feels clear and smooth. Other times, it’s more like navigating a dense forest without a map. That’s where online therapeutic coaching steps in, offering a guiding light right from the comfort of your own space. I’m excited to share how this modern approach can unlock your potential and help you thrive.

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.

When fear rises, when the world feels brittle, when people are tempted to retreat into suspicion or anger, the instinct is to pull the light inward protect it, hide it, ration it. Hanukkah does something else. It puts the light where others can see it.

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.

These instruments do not “prove” that crowns cause prosperity, freedom, or happiness. They do support a humbler claim: where a democracy already takes law and competence seriously, an apolitical head of state helps it stay serious in bad weather.

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”?