The Death of Dialogue and Revelations by Charlie Kirk

My heart is heavy as I type these words. 

The assasination of Charlie Kirk yesterday has shaken me to the core—not only because a life was violently ended but because of what this act reveals about us.
About humanity.

About the fragility of dialogue, and the way we are silencing onve another in dangerous, irreversible ways.

 

There was a part of me that wanted to remain silent, to let the storm of opinions rage without adding my voice.
Silence in moments like these, feels like complicity so, I choose to write.
Not to glorify.

Not to vilify.
To process, to honour and to remind us of something we are perilously close to forgetting: our humanity.

 

I am always affected when any human being is harmed in a way they did not intend to be harmed.
The moment I heard Charlie had been shot, I felt a deep empathy stir within me. To see another human gunned down for speaking their truth (whether you watched it unfold live or on replay) shocks the nervous system.

It rattles the soul.

 

Charlie had fervour, conviction and a real, unshakable belief in his voice.
I will openly say that I did not agree with everything he said or stood for. And yet, there were also moments where his words were sharp, insightful, and unfiltered—words that made people stop and think.

 

He was one of the sharpest intellectuals, a political authority, and a content creator who wielded his voice with clarity.

Some called it blunt; I saw it as delicate in its own way—because truth-telling is always delicate, even when it cuts deep.

 

Charlie was an agitator to some, a truth-teller to others.

He spoke with fervour, clarity, and conviction. He was blunt, intellectual and unafraid. He shared a truth that came from trust in a higher power or source.

He could decimate opinion with fact, dismantling arguments in a way that sparked both admiration and rage.

I will be honest: I didn’t always agree with him. I didn’t need to. That was the point.

Agreement is not the foundation of respect. It never has been, and it never should be.

 

Yesterday, disagreement turned deadly.
A man was shot in the neck for speaking words, for holding beliefs, for daring to express his truth. And that, to me, is the sickness of our time.

Charlie once asked: What does freedom mean if we silence those we don’t agree with?

 

The tragedy is that his death has now become the very embodiment of that question.

 

We are living in a war on consciousness—a battle waged in the minds and hearts of people.
My truth against your truth.

My belief against your belief.

 

Instead of listening, we attack.

Instead of seeking understanding, we cling to being right.

Instead of dialogue, we demand domination.

 

When words can no longer be controlled, we reach for weapons.

That is what happened to Charlie.
His life was not taken because of who he was, but because of what he represented: conviction.

His voice was labeled “too dangerous” to be heard.

 

But here’s the truth: it wasn’t his conviction that was dangerous.

It was our fear of difference.

 

This is the sickness of our time and the cost of this is enormous.

We see it everywhere—in relationships, in health, in politics, in religion, in culture.

It is not just about Charlie Kirk—it is about the collective wound that makes us celebrate violence against those we disagree with.

 

When I saw people rejoicing at the news of his assassination, it broke me a little more.

Since when did “I don’t like what you say” become grounds for “you don’t deserve to live”?

 

 

We are living in a war on consciousness, a battle that takes place through the minds and hearts of people.
My belief against your belief.

My truth against your truth.

 

Instead of listening, we judge, defend and even attack.
Instead of seeking understanding, we seek to be right, to control and to have power over.

 

It is not hateful to speak truth and it is not division to disagree with the opinion or narrative of another human being.
Our voices are meant to create connection rather than disconnection. As humans, we must be able to talk about uncomfortable topics—and do so in ways that don’t end in violence.

 

Radicalism only knows how to silence, threaten and destroy.
Targeted violence doesn’t heal—it only deepens division.

What we truly need is more conversation, real conversation rather than less.

 

Charlie had the courage to show up, to speak his mind, and to put himself out there for the world’s scrutiny—and that takes guts.

Speaking up, challenging conditioning and questioning narratives is not easy, but it is essential to creating a deeper dialogue.
Silencing voices doesn’t save societies. It weakens them.

 

My heartbreak is not only for Charlie, but for what this moment in time reflects back to us.

Humanity is a paradox. Brilliant in creation, brutal in destruction.

 

My heart has genuinely fractured over his death, because it is so much bigger than just Charlie. Humanity itself feels more dangerous than ever—and yet it is also its own greatest dichotomy.

 

As humans, we are extraordinary in the way we create.

We have built entire galaxies of knowledge.

We compose symphonies that stir the soul.

We birth revolutions that shift the course of history.

We create art that awakens wonder and write poetry that melts hearts.

 

With the same hands and minds that create, we also destroy—viciously, needlessly, disgustingly.

 

Now we are destroying each other faster and faster.

Over what…. A differing opinion. An ideology. A political stance. A belief in a God.

We have become so fragile in our egos that we cannot sit across from difference without annihilating it. We have convinced ourselves that “I don’t agree with you” means “you don’t deserve to exist or take up space.”

 

This is what is breaking us.

This is what is ruining humanity.

Not difference but the fear of difference.

Not debate but the death of dialogue.

Not conviction but the crucifixion of those who carry it.

Not disagreement but the dehumanisation of the one who holds it.

 

Charlie once asked: “Who benefits when we are divided against each other?”
The answer is clear: no one.

We all lose.

There is another truth at play here–light and dark are both part of our human story. Together, they create the necessary polarity that drives evolution.

 

Without the dark, we would not recognise the light.

Without the light, we would have no vision to grow toward.

We all carry both energies.

Our thoughts, beliefs and actions generate either light or shadow into this world.
In every moment, with every choice, we decide what we contribute.

More light or more darkness.

More love or more fear.

More unity or more separation.

 

Together, light and dark create the necessary polarity that drives evolution. Without the dark, we would not recognise the light within ourselves. Without the light, we would have no higher vision to grow toward.

 

Both forces are essential teachers, shaping us to remember our true nature and to consciously choose the way we act, live, learn, love, show up and speak each day.

We all have both light and dark energy. Humans are like generators—our thoughts, beliefs and actions generate energy.
On any given day, depending on our state of being, we oscillate between generating more light or darkness onto this planet through our choices.

 

This is the essence of free will: we are constantly choosing what we contribute, moment by moment, choice by choice.

This split has become one of the greatest challenges of our time. It shows up in relationships, health, politics, religion, culture—everywhere.

Underneath it all, what’s really being tested is our capacity to hold difference, to stay open-hearted in the presence of another perspective, and to recognise that truth is bigger than any single point of view.

 

Now more than ever, humanity must begin asking itself the harder questions:

 

We worry endlessly about artificial intelligence destroying us.
The truth is, we are already destroying ourselves—every time we disconnect from our body intelligence, every time fear overrides compassion, every time difference is met with violence.

 

Perhaps the deeper question is not about the other person at all, but about ourselves. Can we hold space for the opinion of another without tearing them down?
If not, maybe it’s about the part of us that feels unsafe, threatened or powerless and lashes out to regain control.

 

In those moments, we have a choice: to feed the division, or to rise above it.

Charlie often asked questions like: What does freedom mean if we silence those we don’t agree with? Who benefits when we are divided against each other? Are you willing to ask the hard questions, even if they make you uncomfortable?

Whether you agreed with him or not, those questions linger, and now more than ever, they matter.

Perhaps the hardest question of all is this: Are we willing to remember that we are human first?

 

When we descend into judgment, fear, defensiveness or attack, that’s when we feed the division.

Because some part of us feels threatened or unsafe, perceives a loss of power and so we seek to gain power by proving ourselves right, diminishing the other.

This really just shows how fragile the ego can be, and how quickly we trade connection for the illusion of control.

 

When we choose love, curiosity, compassion, and respect—even when we don’t agree or resonate with others’ beliefs—we begin to build bridges toward solution instead of walls. We create space for connection, for understanding, and for growth through conscious choice.

 

This is not about everyone agreeing. It’s about learning to coexist, to expand our hearts and minds beyond the need to control or have power over others, and to remember that true power is found in unity, not separation.

 

Somewhere along the way, humanity began losing its humanity.

We forgot that what makes us unique is our differences.

We forgot that duality—light and dark, right and left, faith and doubt—is what makes life rich, what makes life whole.

Instead, we became intoxicated by the need to be right, to dominate, to silence. We decided that disagreement equated to danger. We convinced ourselves that “I don’t agree with you” meant “You don’t deserve to exist.”

 

The assassination of Charlie Kirk is not just about politics. It is about what happens when we let the death of dialogue replace the art of disagreement. It is about what happens when we weaponise difference instead of honouring it.

A healthy mind is a questioning mind—that was one of his teachings I hold close today.

But we don’t have to live this way. We shouldn’t be living this way.

We can be passionate and peaceful.

We can hold strong convictions without silencing another’s voice with violence.

We can remember: human first. Always.

 

It is a crazy world we live in.

Within this madness lies the greatest opportunity of our time: to expand our hearts beyond the need to control, dominate or destroy.
To remember that dialogue is not weakness and difference is not danger.

 

I will never agree with everyone.

I am not meant to.

None of us are.

 

I didn’t always agree with Charlie and that is OK.

Agreement was never the requirement for respect, nor should it be.

I will always fight for a world where our differences are not death sentences.

Where conviction does not cost your life. Where dialogue is not replaced with bullets.

 

Rest in peace, Charlie Kirk.

May your death wake us up—not divide us further.

Charlie will be missed by many near and far.

His voice—loved or hated—reminds us that free speech is not a privilege, but a right.

As I will always believe a healthy mind is a questioning mind.

 

I will leave you with this to ponder over.

You get to decide what you contribute to this world.

More light or more dark.

More love or more fear.

More unity or more separation.

 

The choice is always yours.

 

You get to decide what you are contributing to this planet through your thoughts, beliefs, and actions—more light or more darkness, more love or fear, more unity or separation.

It’s on you to decide.

 

If not, then it’s not really about them.

It’s about the part of you that still feels unsafe, threatened, or perceives a loss of power.

And in that moment, you have a choice—to feed the division, or to rise above it and generate something greater.

 

 

I absolutely do not tolerate anyone bringing division and violence to spaces of vulnerability and connection.
I will always do my best to find common ground and maintain connection, but if you keep destroying it because of the war going on inside you, then you will be shown the door.

 

Differing opinions will always be okay, but there is a big difference between that and projecting your pain in a way that creates division instead of understanding.

 

This is the field I protect for myself and any woman around me.

Be respectful to each other out there—and do what you need to do right now to take care of yourself and keep an open heart.