Hazel Elif Guler, Ph.D. | Educator, Writer, Consultant
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​MY BLOG

Life goes on. The show must go on.
So we think, research, unravel–
then carve something meaningful
out of it all.


This blog is a mosaic of musings: professional, cinematic, poetic, human, culinary, and the occasional detour.

Scroll through; stay for what stirs you.
​

© All Rights Reserved.

I'm an Academix

The Invitation (Short Film Script)

6/19/2025

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 🎬 Short Film Script Alert!!!
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Image by 大米好好吃 from Pixabay
My muse struck again the other day, and I wanted to share it here. Here is another cinematic script—this time, for a short film (but who knows, this could just as easily be turned into a TV commercial for a liberating vehicle or such, or perhaps even a deeply layered PSA carrying a socially critical message. But let me not go there now). For now…

Sometimes, what begins as an invitation is not, in fact, an invitation. It is an initiation... into memory, into fear, into the quiet courage of reclaiming one’s voice.

"The Invitation" is a short psychological drama that draws on dreams, past experiences, and the haunting power of elite spaces that never quite made room for us. Through metaphor and mood, this script explores what it means to escape not just a building, but a history.


This is a work of fiction, shaped from fragments of memory, imagination, and reflection. A story, voice, and vision speaking entirely from my heart... Any resemblance to real people or experiences is incidental—or maybe poetic. ​

Title: "The Invitation"
Genre: Psychological Thriller / Drama
Duration: 3–5 minutes
Setting: An elite private university building, cold and impersonal
Main Character: A woman in her 40s, intellectual, dignified, emotionally alert


SYNOPSIS,
A woman in her 40s, once an outsider in elite circles, receives a mysterious invitation to a gathering at her old university. Hoping for reconnection or closure, she dresses with care and enters the building. But nothing is as it seems. Her belongings vanish, doors close, and smiles hide traps. To reclaim her identity and escape the illusion, she must confront the system—and herself.

SCREENPLAY

FADE IN:

1. EXT. PRIVATE UNIVERSITY ENTRANCE – NIGHT

A sleek, modern university building. Lights glow inside. A digital sign reads:
“Welcome Back.”


A woman in her early 40s approaches—elegant in a blazer, heels clicking on the pavement. She clutches a small leather handbag. Her expression is poised but cautious.

2. INT. LOBBY – CONTINUOUS

She enters. Marble floors. High ceilings. Students and alumni mingle, holding drinks. Soft classical music plays.

She walks through the space. Some people glance at her—recognition, maybe—but turn away too quickly.

She lays her jacket and bag on a side table before stepping into a nearby restroom.

3. INT. RESTROOM – MOMENTS LATER

She washes her hands. Stares at herself in the mirror. A flicker of doubt.

4. INT. LOBBY – MOMENTS LATER

She returns.
Her jacket, bag, phone, and wallet are gone.

She looks around. No one seems to notice or care.
She approaches a young man in a staff badge.

WOMAN
Excuse me… my things were right here.


STAFF GUY
(smiling politely)
Everything is in secure holding now. It's protocol.


WOMAN
Protocol for what?


STAFF GUY
Just relax. You’re here now. That’s what matters.


5. INT. DARKER HALLWAY – LATER

She walks through shadowed corridors. Tries doors. Locked.
Laughter echoes from distant rooms. Monitors flicker with security camera feeds.
She spots an old acquaintance—a woman in a sparkly dress.

ACQUAINTANCE
Still trying to “understand the system”?
(leans in, smirking)
Nobody leaves. Didn’t you get the memo?


6. INT. BASEMENT HALL – NIGHT

A dim hallway. Flickering lights.
An elderly man stands in a corner—unkempt, eyes wild but knowing.

WOMAN
Who are you?


OLD MAN
Someone who didn’t play along.

(He eyes her deeply.)

OLD MAN (CONT'D)
They invite you in… not to welcome, but to absorb. You don’t belong here. That’s why they want to keep you.


WOMAN
There’s no exit.


OLD MAN
Not in their language.


7. INT. STORAGE ROOM – MOMENTS LATER

She kicks open a loose panel behind a service elevator. Her bag and jacket are there—stuffed behind cleaning supplies.
She throws them on. Her hands tremble.

ALARM SOUNDS.
Red lights swirl.

She bolts out.

8. INT. STAIRWELL / EXIT – NIGHT

She races down an old staircase. Cameras buzz.
Her breath quickens. A final door. She pauses.
Through a crack: night air. Trees. Silence.
She pushes the door open and slips out.

9. EXT. OUTSIDE – PRE-DAWN

She emerges. The air is cold. The sky pale lavender.
She stands in stillness. Shoulders rising and falling. Alive. Free.
Behind her, the building hums faintly, like a machine digesting memories.
She walks away, heels softer now on the earth.

FADE OUT.
​

Title Card: THE INVITATION
© All Rights Reserved. Reproduction of any content from this blog is prohibited without prior permission.
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Happy June  — To the Hurting, the Hoping, the Healing

6/8/2025

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The Alps
This month, people around the world mark a wide range of occasions — days that remind us of joy, resilience, connection, identity — and our place in something larger than ourselves. 

In a world that is wildly beautiful and can be heartbreaking all at the same time…

To anyone celebrating anything this month — Eid, love, fatherhood, survival, identity, a step forward...
To the hurting, the hoping, the healing.
And to those still swimming, in spite of it all — I’m swimming with you.


Here’s to beauty that still exists, even in broken places.
Here’s to hope that’s tired, but not gone.
Here’s to trying — still.
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The Shadow of the Serpent

6/3/2025

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Image by James DeMers
Sometimes the muse returns unannounced, and all one can do is follow where it leads. Here’s a story/poem for those who’ve ever walked through shadows with their head held high. May it reach whoever needs it, in whatever way they need it.

The Shadow of the Serpent 
🐍 

Once upon a time, in a land where wisdom and hard work were held in high regard, there was a garden hidden behind high stone walls. Only the chosen few were allowed in.
She had been one of them — by merit, by intellect, by the strength of her honest labor.
But not everything in the garden was as pure as it seemed.

Among the flowers, a serpent lay hidden:
It slithered silently, approached like a friend,
But only struck when it found her vulnerable.

This serpent had entered the garden long before she had.
At first, it acted like a guide.
Then it began whispering from the branches,
Gradually tightening its grip --
Telling others what to share, when to stay silent, when to fear.

For a time, the young woman couldn’t see the game.
She was honest.
She wasn’t used to enemies who smiled as they poisoned.
But one day, the veil lifted from her eyes.
The garden was no longer hers. The poison had spread too far.

So she chose to leave — to root herself in another soil,
And grow where light could reach her again.
The serpent? It remained behind.
Trapped in the echo of its own venom.
Now and then it twitched its tail, hissed from afar,
Still trying to stir the leaves, to incite the others.

But its voice could no longer pass through her.
She had learned to see it.
To recognize its shadow,
To sense the truth behind its whisperless lies.
She had seen it clearly --
And a shadow once named
Could never again hold power over her.

​Hazel E. Guler
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Still Keeping Watch

5/27/2025

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Photo of a Statue of Liberty silhouette adorning a large window, by Hazel E Guler
She emerged through the glass, her crown barely visible at first… but her presence, unmistakable.

Some symbols fade. They glow for a moment, then dissolve into the noise of daily life. Others follow you home. They linger in the background—across time zones and turning points—whispering reminders of what you’ve carried, and what has carried you.


This Lady? She’s the latter.


She has crossed oceans and borders in my mind—not just as a monument, but as a feeling. A kind of guardianship. Not perfect, not untroubled, but steadfast. Rooted in hope, resilience, and the quiet audacity to dream out loud.


Lady Liberty strikes a chord in me. I, too, have crossed oceans and borders—both physical and invisible. Between countries, between dreams, between selves I’ve outgrown. Through seasons of hope, disillusionment, and fierce self-reclamation.


Some days, I feel far from home. Other days, I find pieces of it reflected back at me—in glass, in light, in memory.


Presence isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s just persisting, quietly, against the dark.


Like her, I keep watch. Even in silence. Even when I’m barely visible--

​especially then.

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Not for the Faint of Heart

5/4/2025

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Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay
They came with hungry eyes,
but shallow hands.
Took from the surface,
never dared to understand.


They mistook mystery for performance,
depth for drama,
warmth for weakness...
and turned cold before the flame could speak.


You were not too much.
They were too little.

Too rushed to read
the language of your silences.

Too brittle to hold
what was real and unfinished.

You’ve wept in moonlight
and risen in gold,
built a world where truth
is quietly bold.


You don't linger in their shadows.
They linger in yours.

Still, you walk...
anchored in purpose,
tempered by fire,
a human forged,
not waiting,
but open.


And if you are not afraid
of what's unspoken,
of what doesn’t perform
but pulses beneath...
then perhaps,
you’ve been looking for me.


--Hazel E. Guler
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How I Learned To Speak

5/3/2025

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Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay
A Cinematic Monologue by Hazel E. Guler

[Interior – A dimly lit room. The camera closes in slowly. The woman stands by the window, dusk painting her face with gentle shadows. She speaks softly, almost to herself.]

You know, there’s a story I never told out loud.
Not because it was a secret…
But because it never quite knew how to end.


He was–no, they were–a name I whispered to the stars once, certain they’d echo back.
But stars don’t echo. They burn. Quiet. Distant. Indifferent.
And still… I built a life inside a flicker.


Some days I convince myself it was all a mirage.
That I misread every warmth, every glance, every word.
But other days–
Other days, I wear the memory like perfume: invisible, persistent,
a scent only I remember.


It’s not love anymore.
Not quite longing either.
It’s something in between–a residue.
Of wanting to be seen. Of being almost seen.


But I'm still here.
Still walking, still writing, still weaving wonder from what was never fully mine.
Because maybe… just maybe…
the story was never about them at all.
Maybe it was always about how I learned to speak,
even when no one stayed to listen.
© All Rights Reserved. Reproduction of any content from this blog is prohibited without prior permission.
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The Cartographer's Flame

5/2/2025

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Image by Jim Cooper from Pixabay
A Short Story by Hazel E. Guler

There once was a girl who carried an ember in her pocket. She found it in a lantern once, long ago, when she was still mapping out her future with trembling hands and idealistic eyes. It belonged to a cartographer–an older one–whose maps weren’t only of lands but of minds, hearts, and voices.


He had lit something in her–not a fire, exactly, but a glow. One that warmed her steps when the path was uncertain. One she mistook for a star to follow.

The cartographer admired her sketches, once. Told her they were unlike anything he had seen. She etched them deeper because of that–on paper, yes, but also on skin and bone, where praise turns into prophecy.

She walked years with that ember.

But embers can deceive. They flicker with memory, not presence. And sometimes, she noticed, the cartographer would vanish behind veils of ice–distant, unreadable. The maps he made for others never included her. Or if they did, it was in invisible ink.

She began to question if the glow had ever come from him at all.

One morning, much later, she stood atop a hill she'd climbed alone. The ember still nestled in her coat, but she noticed now–it wasn’t warming her. Her own breath in the cold air felt warmer. Her own pulse was a fire.

She buried the ember beneath a cairn of stones. Not out of bitterness, but gratitude. It had taught her how to feel. And how not to wait.
​

From then on, she carried flint instead. And when she drew maps, they included all the wild, sacred places she’d discovered on her own–unmarked, untamed, fully hers.
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To the One She Once Waved To (or A Polka-Dot Beginning)

4/30/2025

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Hazel G as a Little Girl
 For the girl in the summer hat, and the dream she carried in her basket.

I recently came across a childhood photo of myself. I was about two years old, in a polka-dot dress, wearing a summer hat, a tiny basket on my arm. I was waving at the camera with such innocent certainty.

My first instinct when I looked at her was to apologize.
To say: I’m sorry–
For everything and everyone I allowed to hurt you.
The heartbreak, the silences, the weight of dreams deferred…


This photo now sits where I can see it often, so I can remember that little girl… her quiet hope, her unshaped dreams, and the way she moved through the world with trust in things unseen.

Like a quiet reminder of who I was before the world tried to shape me otherwise.


As I kept looking at it, I felt something I couldn’t quite name.
​So, I wrote a little poem for her.

For the little girl who waved without knowing who might wave back.
For anyone who’s ever walked through the world with a quiet hope, waving hello, and carrying dreams far too big for their hands.
​

Here’s to those who waved anyway.

The Girl With the Cracker Bread
(for the one she once waved to)

She waves,
a basket on her arm,
hat tipped just-so
to shield her dreams
from the sun.

A package of cracker bread peeks out,
as though she's been shopping
for joy,
for someone to hand it to,
someone who might say,
“What a great idea.”

She doesn’t know yet
about silence,
about waiting rooms in the soul,
or how a glance can become
a ghost that lingers
for decades.

She only knows
how to offer.
How to hope.

Years later,
she’ll write stories about him...
a man made of books and quiet warmth...
about the day he noticed her spark
and how that notice
lit an entire decade.

But for now,
she just waves.
And maybe,
somewhere,
in a version of the world
that’s more merciful than this one,
he waves back.

​–Hazel Elif G.

If you’re reading this and perhaps thinking about your own small self... Waving, hoping, not yet knowing... this is for you too.

For every moment you offered your heart into silence, for every glance that stayed too long in your memory.

May you find peace with the ghosts, and may you wave again... not in search of approval, but as a gesture to yourself.

​A way to say: I’m still here. And I’m beginning… again.
​
#InnerChild #CreativeHealing #MemoirInVerse #WavingAnyway
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Unyielding Light

4/15/2025

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Me & my beloved cat: Image created with Canva
I am the spark in the storyteller’s flame,  
A voice of wisdom, a seeker of change.  
I carve out meaning with purpose and grace,  
​Guiding with vision, transcending each place.  

I stand with courage, I rise, I create,  
Weaving my path through passion and fate.  
With heart unshaken, and mind burning bright,  
I shape my own world: unyielding light.
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When Words Must Do More Than Speak

4/13/2025

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We live in a world that feels increasingly saturated with content, yet hungry for connection. Ideas come fast; change comes slow. Platforms multiply, while our attention divides. In this climate, I find myself turning away from excess and toward precision.

What does it mean to create, teach, or consult responsibly today? What does real impact look like, beyond visibility? 


What does it mean to produce work that doesn't just speak to people, but moves with them? ​What responsibilities come with knowing how to write powerfully in a world that urgently needs care, clarity, and coordinated action?

These are the questions guiding my current trajectory–whether in curriculum design, storytelling, or consulting. What connects all these modes is a commitment to communication as a tool not only for reflection, but for renewal.
"Rhetoric is rooted in an essential function of language itself, a function that is wholly realistic and continually born anew: the use of language as a symbolic means of inducing cooperation in beings that by nature respond to symbols." --Kenneth Burke (1969), A Rhetoric of Motives, p. 43, University of California Press.
With over fifteen years of experience in rhetoric, writing, and strategic communication–across both academic and applied spheres–I find myself entering a new phase of meaningful expansion. 

As a professor of writing and communication, I’ve dedicated my career to helping others communicate with clarity, ethics, and purpose. Whether teaching first-year writing, advanced rhetoric, or leading professional development workshops, my focus has always been on cultivating transferable skills and global literacy--principles that extend beyond the classroom.

Beyond academia, I’ve worked as a consultant, helping individuals and institutions translate strategy into language that resonates and inspires change. Because for me, communication has never been just about words--it’s about their power to shift minds, behaviors, and even systems.

This belief also drives my creative work. As a screenwriter and multiplatform storyteller, I explore the human condition and our interdependence with one another and the environment. The goal isn’t spectacle--it’s meaning. Emotion. Recognition. And, when possible, action.

Lately, I’ve been thinking even more deeply about that final piece: action.

Writing is more than a skill–it is a form of agency. Through language, we engage systems, propose futures, and move ideas into the world with real consequence. 

That belief has shaped everything I do. I’ve designed writing curricula that empower students to see language as a civic tool. I’ve helped organizations align their messages with their missions–because what we say, and how we say it, shapes what others believe and do.

Whether structuring a multiplatform narrative or developing a professional workshop, I remain guided by a central aim: to move people--not only emotionally, but toward reflection, insight, and engagement.

My next steps will deepen that commitment–toward work that listens, acts, and builds. I’ll continue to teach. To consult. To write. To shape and be shaped by the questions that matter.

Because in a time like this, when words are everywhere, I choose to craft those that carry weight–
​  words that don’t just speak, but do.


For example, I recently designed a writing course centered on sustainable futures and public health–giving students the tools to research, imagine, and articulate actionable responses to global challenges. In my creative work, I’m exploring storylines that don’t just entertain but challenge viewers to reconsider what justice, community, and care might look like in uncertain times.

These are just a few steps toward a direction I care deeply about:

​Communication as contribution. Writing as participation. Language in service of the world we want to live in.
"...because there has been implanted in us the power to persuade each other and to make clear to each other whatever we desire, not only have we escaped the life of wild beasts, but we have come together and founded cities and made laws and invented arts; and, generally speaking, there is no institution devised by man which the power of speech has not helped us to establish." --Isocrates (1735). Nicocles [To his subjects the Cyprians, concerning their Duty].

​In J. Brown (Trans.), The duty of a king and his people (pp. 26–43). 
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What You Can Do in Just One Minute: A Writer’s Favorite Fitness Hack

4/11/2025

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Sometimes, all I need is five minutes. But between writing deadlines and life chaos, even that feels like a luxury. While searching for quick ways to recharge, I stumbled upon this uplifting infographic that shows you what you can do with just one, two, three, four, or five minutes.

​The beauty of it lies in its progressive approach – it doesn't overwhelm you with a full routine. Instead, it simply asks: how many minutes do you have right now? One? Great – here’s what you can do. Two? Perfect – add this. That kind of gentle, adaptable structure makes it incredibly easy to say yes to movement, no matter how packed your day is.
​

As a professional writer, I also have to say – I have a soft spot for a well-crafted infographic. Visual storytelling is one of our languages, after all. When it's done right, like this one is, it conveys not just information, but encouragement.

Originally published by the editors of Women’s Health, this smart and kind little tool has been quietly waiting to be rediscovered since 2015. I’m sharing it here not just as a helpful tip, but as a reminder that taking even one minute for your body is better than none – and sometimes, it’s all it takes to reset your mind too.
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Check out the original article here: ‘Workouts You Can Do in 5 Minutes or Less’
(Infographic by Women’s Health, used here for educational and inspirational purposes. Full credit to the original creators.)
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Sooo... About the Market Crash. Here’s What I Snatched from an Economist Friend

4/9/2025

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Major U.S. Market Crashes and Recovery Times
Hey friends,

If your group chats, social media feeds, and pillow thoughts have all been haunted by the state of the market lately… same. And while I usually post about whatever strikes my fancy, today it’s this: the crash, the chaos, and the oddly satisfying patterns history reveals.

A friend of mine–let’s call them “an economist with strong charts and stronger opinions”--shared this gem with me, and I had to post it.

Let’s break it down. The graphic in this post illustrates major U.S. market crashes: how much the market dropped during each, and how long it took to bounce back.

​Quick Facts:
  • 1929 (Great Depression): A brutal -89% drop. Took about 25 years to recover. Yikes.
  • 1987 (Black Monday): -22%, recovered in just 2 years.
  • 2000 (Dotcom Bubble): -49% with a 7-year road back.
  • 2008 (Global Financial Crisis): -57%, recovered in about 5 years.
  • 2020 (COVID Crash): -34% but snapped back in just 6 months. Wild.

​What About 2020–2025?


Before 2025 brought us Tariff Turmoil, we’d already seen some drama. The post-pandemic bull run (late 2020 through 2021) gave investors hope, but between inflation, Fed rate hikes, and global jitters, the market wobbled in 2022 and 2023. The S&P 500 saw a 20–25% dip from its 2021 highs. But by mid-2024, the market had mostly recovered--until early 2025, when the current trade tensions triggered another drop.


So if you're counting, that’s two dips in five years--but also two rebounds. Not bad, historically speaking.

And now, 2025 is giving strong “new entry unlocked” vibes, thanks to sweeping tariffs and escalating trade tensions. The S&P dropped fast this quarter, and depending on how the U.S.--China–EU standoff evolves, we might be in for a V-shaped recovery (quick), a U (slow), or–hopefully not–an L (long and flat).

So what’s the point of this post?

To say: if you’re feeling uneasy, you’re not alone. But also–history shows markets do recover. Sometimes it takes time, but crisis often breeds reinvention (and yes, opportunity).


Investor tip I overheard (and by “overheard” I mean I grilled my friend):
  • Keep some strategic cash handy.
  • ​Don't panic about your investment strategy.
  • Watch sectors like U.S. manufacturing, AI, defense, and green energy.

​And now I’m curious–what’s your gut telling you about this market mess?
Leave a comment, DM me, or just scream into the void. I’ll be here, sipping tea and pretending I understand bond yields.


P.S. U.S. stock markets have just shown signs of improvement, as we speak, following news that President Trump has decided to delay tariffs for 90 days, with the exception of a 125% tariff on China. This shift in policy may provide some short-term relief, but the long-term effects on the market and global trade dynamics remain to be seen.
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“I’ve Never Seen It This Bad”: Why So Many People Are Saying This, and What It Means for the Rest of Us

4/4/2025

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Image by Bernd Hildebrandt
Over the past couple of years, I’ve noticed a striking pattern in the way certain people talk about the present moment–people with decades of life experience, who have witnessed major historical shifts firsthand. My father is one of them. They all said some version of this:

“I’ve lived through some tough times–but I’ve never seen things get this bad.”

The first time I heard it, it made me pause. The second time, it made me wonder. And as I continued hearing the same phrase from different people, in different places, I started to ask myself a deeper question: Did my time on earth have to coincide with the worst chapter in modern history? Am I really that unlucky?

It’s a heavy thought. Especially when things are already hard–financially, socially, emotionally–and you’re watching major systems fray or falter.

Right now, for example, the U.S. stock market (and perhaps some others around the world) is struggling, and people retiring in this climate are understandably anxious. Some are seeing the savings they’ve worked for all their lives diminish at the very moment they need them most. It’s unfortunate, and for many, deeply unfair.

And yet, even as these realities bite, some voices offer consolation: “Markets always recover.” Others take it further: “If they collapse to the point where the world collapses, we’ll all be in it together anyway.” In other words, if the system fails completely, personal investments are the least of our problems.

This bleak kind of reassurance brings to mind a classic quote often attributed to John Maynard Keynes, summarizing Adam Smith’s pragmatism:

“In the long run, we’re all dead.”

At first glance, it sounds cold. But it’s also a sober reminder of our limited place in the sweep of history. The “long run” may resolve itself with or without us. And that may be exactly what’s weighing on the voices expressing this concern.

So Why Are People Saying, “This Is the Worst”?

I think there are several reasons why this sentiment is so common today. Here are my thoughts, weaving in my reflections, observations, and some research on the broader emotional and philosophical context.

It’s not necessarily that these times objectively are the worst. It may be that something else–something deeper–is stirring beneath the surface:

1. A Loss of Control

As people accumulate life experience, they often rely on the stability of the systems they grew up with–economic patterns, social norms, institutions that once felt trustworthy. When those structures begin to shift or break down, it doesn’t just feel like change–it feels like chaos. Familiar signposts are missing. And for those who once navigated confidently, it’s easy to feel disoriented and powerless.

2. The Overload of Information

In previous decades, bad news came through newspapers, occasional broadcasts, or word of mouth. Now we absorb global suffering in real time–war footage, climate disasters, political breakdowns, one tragedy after another. The sheer volume and speed of it all make the world seem more unstable than ever before. But maybe it’s not the world that’s more unstable–maybe it’s just more visible.

3. Romanticizing the Past

It’s a common psychological phenomenon: as people look back on earlier chapters of their lives, they tend to idealize their youth. The past appears simpler, more hopeful, more coherent. This isn’t delusion–it’s a kind of memory self-preservation. So even if the present isn’t objectively worse than the past, it can feel that way when viewed through a nostalgic lens.

4. A Shrinking Window for the Future

For those who have lived through many chapters of history, a changing world isn’t just something to observe–it’s something they may not have time to see resolve. It’s not just “the world is in trouble.” It’s “I may not live to see things get better.” That realization carries a special kind of grief. It’s not only a fear of decline; it’s a fear of missing redemption.

So… Is This the Worst Time?

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s just our time–fraught, yes, but also real, alive, and full of choices (as much as possible within the purview of what’s available to us). Here, it's important to be brutally honest with ourselves about what those choices truly are.

The world is always breaking in some places and healing in others. Every generation feels at some point that they’re living through unprecedented hardship–and perhaps they are. But that doesn’t mean all is lost. It just means we’re living through history as it unfolds, not as it will one day be remembered.

And if we can zoom out, we might even see what these voices are really saying. Not just that things are bad–but that they’re unsure, afraid, and perhaps hoping we’ll carry something forward that they no longer can.

Maybe our role isn’t to deny how hard things are. Maybe it’s to hold that difficulty honestly, and still try to move with care, courage, and curiosity.

After all, in the long run, we will all be dead. But in the meantime, there’s still a world here–fragile, imperfect, and worth tending to. (What follows is a little graphic to help with that.)
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Light and Shadow

10/17/2024

 
HE GulerHE Guler
 I am the echo of stories untold,  
 A weaver of words, both fierce and bold.  
 A seeker of meaning, a sculptor of thought,  
 In the fire of wisdom, my lessons are wrought.  

 I stand at the crossroads of reason and dream,   
 Bridging the silence with voices unseen.  
 I speak with conviction, yet doubt lingers near,  
 A shadow that whispers, a phantom of fear.  

 Bound by devotion, yet longing to fly,  
 A soul seeking freedom beneath a tight sky.  
 I wrestle with silence, with time, with regret,   
 A mind that won’t rest, a heart not content.  

 Empathy shapes me, a double-edged sword,  
 It pulls at my heartstrings, yet leaves me worn.  
 I feel what is broken, I hear what is lost,  
 Yet bearing such burdens, I pay the cost.  

And yet, in the chaos, a vision remains-- 
A future I build through struggles and pains.  
For though I may stumble, I never will cease,  
To chase after purpose, to craft my own peace.  

--Hazel E. Guler

About Raining on People's Parades

8/30/2024

 
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Hazel E. Guler at a Resort in Izmir, Turkiye
Life doesn’t just hand us things on a silver platter; most of us have to fight through big hurdles just to catch glimpses of joy. It's crucial to remember that everyone is dealing with something, even those who seem to have it all together. We need to move through life with this awareness.

Do your best to find your own peace and, in the process, avoid causing harm to others--whether physically, emotionally, or even with our thoughts and attitudes. We all deserve to chase happiness without someone else raining on our parade. ☮️

Coming Back

7/23/2024

 
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Sometimes, we find ourselves drawn back to the places where we felt loved, no matter how far we've strayed. Whether it's a physical journey or a mental return, the pull of cherished memories is strong.

"Everyone comes back
where they felt loved.
In the car. By bike.
On your knees.
In a house. In one street.
In a country. In a cemetery.
Everyone comes back
where they felt loved.
Soon. Late. In a long time.
As children. As adults. As old people.
Laughing. Crying out. Scared.
But they all come back
where they felt loved
In a memory. In a thought.
In a hug. In a dream."
--Linda Valentinis

Embrace the moments and places that make you feel loved. 🌊🏞️

#Reflection #Love #Memories #Journey #Home

Societal Truths in a Riveting Prequel to a Silent Nightmare

7/13/2024

 
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Poster for A Quiet Place: Day One
Warning: This article may contain spoilers about the movie, A Quiet Place - Day One. Please read this article after you have watched the film.

In A Quiet Place: Day One, director Michael Sarnoski takes us back to the beginnings of the terrifying world first introduced by John Krasinski in 2018 (A Quiet Place). This prequel presents the chaotic early days of the alien invasion, providing a backstory that enriches the franchise while delivering its unique thrills. Set in the immediate aftermath of the aliens’ arrival, the film immerses spectators in the raw chaos of a society in disarray. The narrative centers on a fresh cast of characters as they struggle to understand the sudden, incomprehensible threat. The direction maintains the tension and suspense of the series. The skillful use of sound -- or rather, the absence of it -- creates an oppressive silence that amplifies each creak, whisper, and breath.

Cinematic Quality: Sight and Sound
The cinematography is stark and unsettling, with tight, claustrophobic shots that amplify the sense of dread. The film effectively uses light and shadow to create an atmosphere of constant threat, keeping viewers on edge throughout. At first glance, the premise of the “A Quiet Place” franchise might seem far-fetched -- a world overrun by sightless aliens that hunt humans by sound. Yet, beneath the surface horror lies a profound reflection of our reality on multiple levels.

Societal Reflections: Silence as Survival
The film’s exploration of silence as a necessity for survival resonates deeply with societal truths where speaking up can mean risking everything -- your own life and those of others. The movie explores the intricacies of survival in a world where noise is lethal. It forces us to confront the parallels with our own societies, where speaking out against oppression or injustice can lead to dire consequences.

Moral Dilemmas and Personal Sacrifices
This theme struck me particularly in the portrayal of characters who must navigate the moral dilemmas of self-preservation versus risking exposure to aid others. The moral complexity adds depth to the story, prompting introspection on our own values and actions in similar life-or-death situations. A poignant protagonist, a young African American woman suffering from cancer, remains in New York where the alien attacks occurred, tied to a restaurant in Harlem where she shared deeply meaningful memories with her father.
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Poster for A Quiet Place: Day One
Character Analysis: A Profound Female Protagonist
What is striking about the protagonist's character is her ultimate act of sacrifice. She chooses to let go of her beloved service cat, entrusting it to a British man studying law in New York, allowing him a chance to escape the city. Yet, she herself does not accompany him. This decision raises profound questions about acceptance, fate, and the choices we make when confronted with overwhelming odds.
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Does her choice to stay symbolize a resignation to fate, where survival seems futile? Perhaps she represents those of us who, faced with insurmountable challenges or impending death, choose acceptance over struggle. Her act of letting go, both of her cat and potentially of her own life, speaks to a deeper existential resignation in the face of overwhelming threats.

Horror Tropes and Allegorical Depth
However, amidst its thought-provoking themes, “A Quiet Place: Day One” does not escape some clichés and tropes. The sudden and unexplained alien invasion raises questions about the creatures’ origins and motivations. How could they coordinate the invasion and specific attacks without sight? These elements stretch plausibility but still serve as allegories for real-world dynamics. The film’s monsters, though fantastical, may symbolize the chilling reality where those in power are blind to the truth but are acutely aware of dissent. The aliens’ hypersensitivity to sound may mirror regimes that squash opposition or dissent, equating any vocalization against them as an existential threat.

Conclusion: A Haunting Reflection
In conclusion, “A Quiet Place: Day One” transcends mere horror; it offers a reflection on the fragility of truth and the consequences of defiance. It challenges viewers to consider the impact of their voices -- both literally through noise and metaphorically in speaking truth to power. Despite its fantastical elements, the film resonates with timely and timeless themes that invite introspection and discussion.

Whether you are a fan of the horror genre or a seeker of deeper meanings, “A Quiet Place: Day One” offers a haunting journey into the complexities of silence, survival, and sacrifice.

Life's Journey

6/23/2024

 
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There comes a moment in life when clarity breaks through the noise and confusion, and you finally know what you need to do. For me, this moment was captured beautifully in Mary Oliver's poem "Journey":

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

This poem resonates with me on a profound level. It speaks to the courage required to embark on a new path, even when surrounded by doubt and uncertainty.

My life journey has been filled with uncertainty, yet each step has brought me closer to my true self. I remained hopeful and determined, and this resilience paid off as I began new professional ventures and rediscovered my passion for writing.

To anyone facing crossroads in life: trust your journey. It may involve making difficult decisions and letting go of what once seemed crucial, but listen to your own voice. Embrace the uncertainty, knowing that each step forward is a step toward saving and nurturing your life. Replanting yourself in new soil can lead to unexpected growth and fulfillment.

Every transition marks a new chapter in your life. Every step, even the uncertain ones, is leading you toward a future filled with potential and growth. Trust in your resilience, remain open to new experiences, and keep moving forward. The path may not always be clear, but with determination and an open heart, you will find your way.

#Uprooted #NewBeginnings #LifeTransitions #MaryOliver #PersonalGrowth

Invention: The Power of a Dream Team

5/30/2024

 
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The other day, I found myself standing before a sign that seemed to crystallize everything I’ve come to value in the teams I work with:

“Invention: The Sky is the Limit.”


It stopped me in my tracks--not just because of its boldness, but because it perfectly captured the energy I feel in those moments when collaboration transforms into something extraordinary.

There’s a particular thrill that comes from working with clients and colleagues who don't just meet challenges--they welcome them like old friends. These are the people who approach every obstacle not with dread, but with curiosity and resolve. They see a puzzle to be solved, a new frontier to be explored, a chance to test their limits and, more often than not, surpass them.

A powerhouse team doesn’t flinch in the face of ambitious ideas. They don’t play it safe, and they certainly don’t operate with a “good enough” mentality. Instead, they greet each idea with enthusiasm, determination, and--perhaps most importantly--a shared belief that success is not a matter of luck, but of collective effort and vision.
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Leading teams like this is a joy. It’s the kind of experience that doesn’t just drive outcomes--it shapes you as a leader. You find yourself listening more, learning faster, and dreaming bigger, simply because you’re surrounded by people who are willing to dare. There’s a rare kind of trust in these environments--the trust that if you name your vision, no matter how high-reaching, the team will not only aim for it but find a way to make it soar.

There really are no limits when the right people come together. Ideas that once seemed lofty suddenly take shape. Innovation stops being a buzzword and starts being the rhythm of the work. You look around, and you realize: this is what it means to create. Not just to deliver, but to invent. Together.

So here’s to the dreamers, the doers, and the teams that make the impossible possible. 
​

#DreamTeam #Leadership #Innovation #Collaboration #SkyIsTheLimit

Welcome to My Little Corner of the Internet

5/27/2024

 
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Hey there, and welcome!

This blog is my personal space--a place where I write about whatever inspires me at any given moment. There’s no strict theme or agenda here, just a collection of thoughts, experiences, and creative expressions.

Expect to find:
📖 Reflections on life, the world, and everything in between
📝 Poems, stories, and maybe even some movie scripts
🍲 The occasional food experiment and recipes
📸 Photos I’ve taken, moments I’ve captured
🎭 Thoughts on films, books, and storytelling in general

Basically, if it’s on my mind and I feel like sharing it, you might see it here.

Thanks for stopping by--I hope you find something that resonates with you. Feel free to explore, reach out, or just enjoy the ride!
    Author

    I work where ideas collide: storytelling, film, poetry, food, travel, and the quiet (or chaotic) observations that make life interesting. This blog is my playground for words, images, and the odd tangent–because creativity thrives on curiosity. 
    ​
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