Paper Tigers

In a world where unemployment is high and opportunities can feel scarce, it’s easy to feel stuck. So many people wait for something or someone to come and change their life. But what if the shift doesn’t come from the outside? What if it begins with how we see our own potential?

There’s a short but powerful instruction that we can look at: “Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.” (Proverbs 6: 6–8, NIV).

This ancient wisdom paints a picture of the ant – tiny, easily overlooked, yet full of insight. The ant doesn’t wait to be told what to do. It doesn’t depend on a system or a boss or the perfect conditions. It simply works. Quietly. Consistently. Intentionally. It gathers what it can, while it can, knowing that the time for harvest will pass. It’s not driven by fear or panic, but by purpose.

Wisdom is humble and moves steadily forward.

In today’s world, many are forced to become resourceful. Formal employment may be out of reach, but that doesn’t mean we’re without purpose or possibility. If we do what we love, if we build something around our passion, no effort is ever wasted.

Like the ant, our strength lies not in what we have, but in what we choose to do with what we have. A skill. An idea. A small start. It may not look like much, but it can carry us far, especially if we stop waiting for the perfect time and simply begin. 

What stops most of us from beginning isn’t always circumstance. More often, it’s fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of getting it wrong. And that’s why Amelia Earhart’s words remain so relevant: “The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life and the procedure. The process is its own reward.” 

A paper tiger looks fierce, but it’s made of paper. It can’t actually harm us. It only feels threatening.

Most of our fears are just that. They hold shape, but no true substance. And when we see them for what they are, we realize the hardest part was never the work itself. It was making the decision to start.

In 2 Thessalonians 3:10 (NIV), Paul writes: “The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat.” This isn’t said with cruelty, but with clarity. It’s a reminder that action is part of living. If we want change, we must take part in it – not sit back waiting for someone else to write our story. Work, in whatever form we can offer it, is not just about income – it’s about dignity, meaning, and contribution. 

We don’t need a perfect business plan or a groundbreaking invention to start. We just need a spark, a desire to build something, offer something, do something that aligns with who we are and what we care about. We can start small. Offer a service. Make something with our hands. Use our voice, a skill, or experience – even if it feels ordinary.

The ant never questions if it’s doing something great. It just works, and that work sustains it. At the same time, we need to remember that life is not only about producing or surviving. It’s also about enjoying the process. That’s what Amelia Earhart meant when she said, “The process is its own reward.”

There is joy in movement. Fulfillment in effort. Meaning in even the smallest of steps forward. 

Take a moment today and ask yourself:
Am I being held back by real obstacles, or by paper tigers?
Am I waiting for a miracle, or is it time to become the miracle in my own story?

The ant doesn’t wait for certainty. It acts. And so can you.  No matter how limited your resources, no matter how small your beginnings, act with courage, work with purpose, and follow what you care deeply about.

The world needs more people who are alive with purpose, not afraid of paper tigers, and willing to begin with what they have. The time is now. Consider the ant. See through the fear. And begin.

A final thought to consider…

John Steinbeck wrote, “I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen” (from The Winter of Our Discontent). This speaks to the invisibility of ordinary people, everyone who is trying to make a living. Whether someone is selling home-baked goods or offering a humble service, the effort behind that deserves our respect and support. Instead of judgment, let’s choose care and encouragement.

Everyone trying to make an honest living deserves to be seen and valued.

We Don't See Reality - We See Through It

We like to think we see the world as it is. But we don’t.

We don’t see with our eyes. We see through them. Like light filtering through stained glass, our vision is coloured by everything we’ve lived. Our eyes might capture the image, but our minds interpret it. And what we perceive is never neutral. It’s shaped by memory, trauma, belief systems, fears, and hopes.

What we’ve experienced becomes a lens, tinting every moment.

A room isn’t just a room if you once felt unsafe in one.

A smile isn’t just a smile if you’ve learned not to trust them.

Even colours and sounds can carry emotional echoes we no longer consciously register.

We don’t notice everything. We notice what we’ve been conditioned to see. We scan for patterns that support the story we’ve always told ourselves, and we often miss what doesn’t fit.

And here’s another layer: our senses aren’t perfect. Even when fully alert and emotionally grounded, we still don’t experience the full picture.

Biologically, our eyes detect only a sliver of the electromagnetic spectrum. We miss the infrared, the ultraviolet. Our ears register only a limited range of frequencies. So even before personal bias comes in, we’re already working with incomplete data. We build entire truths from fragments. And what makes it worse is that we trust those fragments absolutely. We forget how much we’re missing.

So yes, the past shapes perception. But so do the natural limits of being human. We think we’re seeing clearly, but often, we’re just seeing enough to feel certain. And that’s dangerous.

This is the creative’s ache – one that artists, writers, and speakers know too well. It’s not just about craft. It’s about translation. Taking something filtered internally and trying to make it visible to others. The goal isn’t just accuracy. It’s honesty. To reveal not just what we see, but how we experience it. And that takes more than talent. It takes vulnerability.

In every painting, story, or speech, the creator’s internal weather is present. Mood shapes expression. Meaning every piece is more than creative output. It’s a mirror.

Can we ever see more clearly? Maybe. The path starts with asking better questions: Is this real, or is this my past speaking? Am I seeing this moment, or a memory dressed up as the “here-and-now”? 

Self-awareness helps us interrupt the automatic replay of old wounds. It allows us to meet the moment as it is, not as we once knew it. Healing our vision is the first step toward a better life. One not dictated by shadows.

Yes, it does matter that we don’t see objective reality. Because until we realize that, we’ll keep reacting to ghosts and calling them truth. The narrative of the past will dominate the present. That’s why so many people stay trapped in victimhood instead of showing up as survivors.

Memory doesn’t record facts. It stores emotion. And over time, the line between what happened and how it felt begins to blur. We don’t just remember events. We remember how they made us feel. And those feelings become filters, colouring how we see now.

A kind word can sound like a warning if we’ve been hurt before.

A loving gesture can feel suspicious if trust has been broken.

Suddenly, we’re no longer responding to this moment. We’re reliving that one.

Without awareness, memory manipulates perception. And perception, in turn, becomes a prisoner of the past. 

So maybe the answer isn’t just to paint, write, or speak about what we think we’ve experienced. Maybe the deeper work is this: to explore it again. To find the truth beneath the emotion. To revisit the past, especially with someone who was there.

In the end, we have a choice. We get to decide how we see.

As for me? I am the captain of my creations, the master of my perceptions. Yes, I’ll probably always see the world through eyes slightly clouded by yesterday, but knowing that helps me pause. Even when I can’t name what’s haunting me, awareness gives me a choice. If I can feel it, I can face it. And whether I understand it fully or not, I can acknowledge it, release it, and choose to reframe it.

Subliminally Yours

We tend to think that we’re only aware of what we choose to focus on. The truth is far more unsettling. Our senses are wide open channels, and we’re constantly absorbing the world around us. Every sound, sight, scent, and sensation is being recorded, logged, stored somewhere deep within.

We are bombarded every day with subliminal messages. But before I go further, let me clarify the term. Subliminal comes from the Latin sub (below) and limen (threshold). It refers to anything that happens below the level of conscious awareness. A subliminal message, then, is something your brain absorbs without you realising it. Your subconscious mind picks it up and influences you.

You might not consciously notice it, but a flash of an image, a word buried in a song, or the subtle colours in an advert will affect you. Your brain registers it, and over time, those invisible things shape the way you think, feel, and respond to the world around you.

Your mind is like an ocean. Everything you’ve ever seen, heard, touched, or felt is submerged in those depths. Conversations you forgot, images you glanced at for a second, offhand comments from strangers are all in there.

If you could drop a trawler net into that sea of memory, what would you pull up?

A scent might trigger a childhood memory. A song might reel in a heartbreak you thought you’d buried. A passing phrase could awaken a belief you didn’t even know you held.

Subliminal messages are like tiny fish – small, unnoticed, but numerous – and together, they can shift the tide. Our eyes and ears are the primary gateways. They take in more than we can ever consciously process.

Your eyes register symbols, colours, and motion in milliseconds. Your ears pick up tone, pitch, and emotional undercurrents in someone’s voice. By the time your conscious mind catches up, your subconscious has already logged the data. This is how we end up carrying emotions we can’t trace, or forming beliefs we never questioned.

It’s no wonder, then, that we’re so emotionally bruised—constantly absorbing what we don’t even realise is harming us. To protect our mental clarity in a noisy world, we have to learn to train our eyes and filter what we absorb.

The internet, media, advertising are full of psychological hooks and emotional bait. If we don’t become intentional about what we see, we’ll passively take in everything — the fear, the comparison, the distraction, the noise.

Not everything visible is valuable.

Not everything loud is worth hearing.

We need a filter for the mind. A good filter is shifting our focus.

The Bible gives us a clear lens for filtering our focus. In Philippians 4:8, Paul writes:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”

This verse is more than spiritual advice. It’s a survival strategy in a world of subliminal junk.

It’s a call to consciously choose what we give our attention to – and what we allow into the depths of our mental ocean.

Your mind is always listening.

Your eyes are always watching.

The question is: What are they being fed? And what kind of person are you becoming because of it?

It’s really the little things that turn out to be enormous. Choosing to speak kind words. Sharing a smile. Holding your tongue when tempted to argue. Making an about-face when you find your mind wandering into negativity (because you remembered the goal of Philippians: to focus on everything excellent). Apologising for speaking harshly or rudely instead of accepting your offensive behaviour as a good thing.

Philippians 4:5 reads:

“Let your gentleness be evident to all.” (NIV)

“Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.” (ESV)

“Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do.” (NLT)

The call to “let your gentleness be evident to all” is more than just about behaviour; it’s about growing into spiritual maturity. It means becoming wise and self-sacrificing, calm and patient, peaceful and contented — traits that don’t come overnight but develop as we intentionally filter what we let into our minds and hearts.

In a world overflowing with noise and distraction, these qualities ground us. They allow us to respond thoughtfully instead of reacting impulsively. They help us choose peace over chaos and focus on what is good and true, even when the world tries to pull us in the opposite direction.

Choose wisely.

Trawl carefully.

Focus intentionally.