An Ode to Good Being:

Your Calling is Calling!

Why This Is a True Good Being Breakthrough:

Good Being - breakthrough!

In a world overwhelmed by optimised content and productivity hacks, Good Being stands apart as a 'movement of the marrow' — restoring meaning, soul, and purpose to life and work. This post is a Good Being breakthrough in every sense: a lyrical manifesto, a gentle rebellion, and a vivid call to awaken the self that longs to be known. If you’ve felt the quiet ache for more — then my poem is dedicated to you:

No curated feed of fleeting trends,

No algorithm for optimized ends.

No saccharine script of how to ascend.

For this is the place to make amends.

This? This is the fault line.

The place to visit for calm renewal.

A crimson flourish versus the gathering grey,

A defiant flicker where embers softly shift.

A daring incision into the stagnant vein,

Reversing the poles of weary energy's strain,

Diverting the flow from the pallor of what might have been,

To channels where lifeblood is vivid and keen,

Towards a vibrant surge of purpose, a fierce, untamed green.

If the quiet hum of dissonance has ever grown,

A subtle tremor in the bone,

A glimpse of virtue soon to hone.

If your gaze has fallen on the daily yield,

And a whisper rose, "Is this all I'm compelled?"

A medium I can grow in, my true field.

Then step across this threshold, friend unknown.

Here, no lessons in the art of the perfect fit,

Hear no lessons in the perfect fit,

No polishing the edges where you don't quite sit.

We fan the fading embers of a truth you always knew,

Before the gears convinced you, you were meant to screw

Yourself into their turning, a predictable part.

You are the blueprint, the vision in the heart,

A hand that shapes, an inner that calls,

The truer version of the you you always knew,

A wildfire's dance beyond these factory walls,

A celebration of the intention, a vivid hue.

This movement — Good Being — is

a rebellion whispered on the breath of reverence.

To breathe gusto in renaissance.

No angry shouts to shatter fragile air,

But a deep resonance, a truth laid bare.

We are weaving meaning back into the bone,

Reclaiming the marrow, seed by seed sown.

Not just a tweak at the edges of your trade,

But a detonation of the ‘why’ you've made

Your brief sojourn on this spinning sphere.

The labour market, shedding a tired tear,

It is not its last,

In fading fast.

Good riddance to the grey it cast.

It gave us ledgers where laughter should reside,

Efficiency's chill where warm connection died,

Tasks neatly ticked, but spirit left unfurled.

We are not patching cracks in a broken world.

We are the roots pushing through hardened ground,

Outgrowing the fences that have us bound.

My aim? To zero-in on life's portent.

To stir the ninety percent from slumber's claim,

To resurrect potential laid-low and lame,

To find the axis where True North aligns.

To banish the grey fog of half-lived designs,

And ignite a civilisational, vibrant hue,

A bloom of purpose, fresh and ever new.

This site: a crucible where futures gleam,

A sanctuary built on awaking dream,

A forge where identity is hammered bright.

From the ashes of ‘should’,

We give birth to our own true light.

Here, the current shifts, a vital sign,

Injecting the spirit with purpose divine.

We transmute the lead of suffering's weight

To the gold of purpose, sealing a new fate.

And this alchemy, this sacred art we ply,

Is not a selfish reaching for the sky,

But a legacy for those who will then be,

A pathway cleared for authenticity.

You have been drawn here by currents deep,

A whisper in the silence, secrets do keep.

Stay, if the echo of your true self calls,

If this light of 'could' dims your all,

If the weight of ‘should’ begins to fall.

Leave, if the tether still holds you fast.

But know the turning of the tide has passed.

A nascent world is breathing, taking hold,

And here, within this space, its story's told.

Welcome to the surge, the vibrant flow.

It’s time to turn the tide,

On that person deep inside

And truly know,

The calling that resides for the want,

Flick the switch on the you that hides.