Project Vision 21

We live in a time when chaos and noise seem to cover every part of our lives — bad news, shallow opinions, constant crises, and rapid, disorienting change. In the middle of this whirlwind, it’s only natural to feel fear, confusion, frustration, or even resistance to anything that hints at "change."
 

In moments like these, words often fall short — or, as British philosopher Tim Freke puts it, they become “irrelevant.” Sometimes speaking too much doesn’t open doors; it closes them.
 

And I’m not talking about doors to business deals or new opportunities — I’m talking about the deeper portals that lead to our future.
 

That’s why today, just as every time I write or speak, I’m not offering you theories or solutions.
I don’t have them — and to be honest, I never have. All I can offer is a simple invitation: to create a space — whether within yourself or shared with others — where silence is allowed to speak, and words are allowed to fall away.
 

When the noise inside and around us begins to quiet down, when we stop clinging to our “certainties” and self-imposed limiting narratives, something new begins to emerge. It’s not something we can force or manufacture.
It rises naturally, like a hidden spring, from the open mind and the open heart.
 

In openness, we allow new life to begin.
 

But stepping into that openness isn’t easy. Between what we know and what is just starting to show itself, there’s an uncertain space — a space of ambiguity. It’s not the firm ground of the familiar, nor the blind leap into the unknown. It’s a threshold — a place where the old and the new brush against each other, sometimes clashing, sometimes embracing.
 

In that ambiguity, we allow the old and the new to meet.
 

And in that delicate, luminous meeting, we need more than intellectual understanding.
We need faith — not in the sense of adopting a dogma or joining a group, but the deep kind of faith that connects us to life itself. A trust that something greater is already at work.
 

In faith, we allow the new life to become a living truth.
 

The greatest transformations often begin in the smallest of ways — with a silence that dares to listen,
with an openness that dares to trust, with a heart that, even trembling, dares to believe that something beautiful is already on its way.
 

We need “islands of coherence” — as scientists like Ilya Prigogine and thinkers like Otto Scharmer describe them — small spaces of hope in the middle of the chaos. Places where we don’t waste energy fighting the old or denying the pain of the present but instead tend to the seeds of the new — seeds that are already quietly breaking through the soil.
 

We don’t have to understand it all to take the first step. All we need is to open ourselves to the possibility of a fuller, brighter, more authentic life that is trying to emerge through us, here and now, in the silence between words.