When The Country You Love Starts To Feel Like A Stranger

When The Country You Love Starts To Feel Like A Stranger

A letter to Caroline, and to every heart that feels this way right now.

Recently, a message landed on my Facebook post from a beautiful soul named Caroline.

She wrote:

"I resonate with this, and this is how I navigated the abuse from my family, and mostly, I am happy now. [Caroline's response to a previous post]

I would like your thoughts on this...
I'm struggling with the mass amount of immigrants being flooded into Australia. My heart breaks every time I walk into a service station and see the Australian staff replaced by Indians, so too are all the truck drivers, couriers, takeaway, cafes, tradies.. The list goes on. And they have priority to newly built low income housing while our Australians are living in tents. This is evident on the banks of the river Torrens that runs through Adelaide. Many of our Australians with children and mortgages or rent are now on the dole.
I know this is happening in all European countries! I need to make peace with this somehow."

First, to Caroline: I hear you.
To everyone reading who feels something similar: I hear you, too.

That ache in your chest when you see Australians in tents by the river, while others seem to be given housing first. That shock when familiar faces at the servo are replaced, and suddenly the place feels… foreign. It can feel like you're losing your home without ever having to move.

This is not a slight feeling. It's grief.

And grief, if we listen to it, can become a teacher.

The lens I live by: soul first, human second

My starting point, always, is this:

I am a soul having a learning experience as a human.

Before I arrived, I selected a curriculum of lessons and objectives. I chose the family, the land, and the time in history. I chose, at some level, to be here now, in this transition.

From the womb onwards, I begin creating my reality. You do too. We all do.
Each of us lives inside a unique reality, shaped by our history, our nervous system, our beliefs, our wounds, our hopes.

From one perspective, people can look "good" or "evil".
From another, they are all mirrors, playing roles in each other's lesson plans.

Often we live in loops: the same pattern, the same trigger, wearing new clothes.

So when Caroline says, "I need to make peace with this," I hear a soul who has already done a lot of internal work (navigating abuse, finding happiness) now meeting the next layer of her curriculum:

How do I hold love for my land, my people, AND not collapse into hatred or blame of others who are also just trying to survive?

Peace is not something out there

I used to try to make peace with situations.

Now I see peace as a state of being inside myself.

So when I read Caroline's words, my first question is:

Where is your inner world already at peace, and where is it still aching?
Which part of you feels abandoned, replaced, left behind, just like those Australians in tents by the river?

Because the outer movie so often mirrors the inner story.

This doesn't mean what you see "out there" isn't real or serious.
Homeless families, strain on services, wages that don't keep up, whole communities feeling displaced – these are real.

But if we only stare outward, we miss the deeper invitation:

To become the being who can see clearly, feel deeply, and then create differently.

The bigger game: empires, economics, and engineered division

Here's the part that is hard to look at, but essential.

Empires come and go.
The British Empire. The American Empire. And yes, we are living through the end of several overlapping empires at once.

For generations, powerful interests have:

• Outsourced manufacturing and hollowed out local industry.

• Turned nations into quarries and shopping centres instead of places of actual production and care.

• Kept wages lagging behind real living costs, making people more reliant on state and corporate systems.

• Used media, politics, religion, "education", and even science as channels to normalise this.

Immigration, in this context, is not just a story of "kindness" or "helping people".
It is also a tool in a larger game.

When a country is flooded with new labour, often:

• Wages can be held down.

• Locals and newcomers end up competing for scraps.

• Housing pressure increases.

• Fear, resentment, and division grow.

Who wins?

Not the Australian sleeping in a tent.

Not the Indian man working a double shift behind the counter.

Not the single mum trying to hold it together on the dole.

The ones who benefit are the architects of a system that thrives on consumption, control, and separation.

So your heartbreak, Caroline, is not madness.
It is an intelligent nervous system feeling the impact of policies made far above your pay grade.

Remember COVID? That was a rehearsal

Think back to the COVID era.

Most people complied, often driven by self-interest or fear, and often without recognising the broader pattern.
It was small businesses and everyday people who enforced the rules at the door. Many honestly believed they were doing "the right thing". Many were scared of losing their livelihoods.

All the establishment had to do was:

• Keep the narrative pumping through media, politics, "experts", and celebrities.

• Reward compliance and punish dissent.

• Frame it all as "for your safety".

The same pattern runs through immigration, economics, and social engineering:

• Policies are made at the top.

• Narratives are sold to the public.

• Ordinary people – locals and immigrants alike – end up policing each other while the system quietly continues to extract.

So when you feel torn, Caroline, it is because your heart knows:

The Indian truck driver is not the enemy.
The young family from overseas is not the villain.
But nor is it OK that Australians are living in tents while the system smiles, shrugs, and carries on.

A civilisation at the end of a long cycle

On an energetic level, we are ending an era of extreme imbalance.

For thousands of years, we have swung between distorted patriarchal and distorted matriarchal patterns. Control on one side, collapse on the other. Domination here, victimhood there.

We are now at the centre point of that swing.

What you are feeling in the streets of Adelaide, in the housing queues, in the job market, is not just "policy". It is the end of a chapter of consciousness:

• Service-to-self over the highest good of all.

• Extraction over regeneration.

• Division over unity.

When a cycle ends, it looks messy.
Old structures fight to stay alive. New possibilities start to appear.
People are pushed to choose:

Do I stay in blame, resentment, and numbness?
Or do I claim my role as a creator and start building what comes next?

So what do we do with the pain?

First, we feel it.

Let your heart break when you see the tents by the river.
Let your body register the discomfort when you walk into a servo that no longer feels like "home".

But then, instead of directing that pain at the man behind the counter, or the woman in the hijab, or the government clerk… pause.

Ask:

• Is this thought creating unity or separation?

• Am I seeing a human being, or a story I've been told?

• What would I build instead, if I held the highest good of all at the centre?

Because here is the quiet truth:

We are all responsible, on some level, for the old systems. We fed them, worked in them, voted for them, complied with them, or stayed silent within them.

So the move now is not self-blame.
It's self-responsibility.

Why I do what I do

This is precisely why my life's work has evolved into what it is today.

I am no longer interested in arguing with the old game.
I am here to architect and anchor the new.

I see a future (already emerging) where:

• Governance is transparent and truly in service to people, not parties or corporations.

• Learning replaces indoctrination, awakening critical thinking and heart wisdom.

• Economics becomes contribution-based and regenerative, not extractive and manipulative.

• Technology, including AI, amplifies our humanity instead of replacing it.

The projects I am co-creating – from amUnity, to Quantum Learning Sanctuaries, to the RaVolution and the United Earth Council – are all practical expressions of this.

They are my way of saying:

"I see the old system. I understand its patterns. And I choose to dedicate my energy to building something that honours the soul, the land, and the highest good of all."

An invitation to Caroline, and to you

Caroline, you said: "I need to make peace with this somehow."

My invitation is this:

• Make peace, not by numbing yourself to what you see, but by rooting yourself so deeply in your own soul, your own values, that narratives of hate or helplessness cannot hijack you.

• Let the heartbreak for Australians in tents turn into a fierce commitment to new systems that never allow that again.

• Let the discomfort surrounding mass immigration lead to clarity about the kind of governance, economics, and community you stand for.

And remember:

The man at the servo, the truck driver, the family in social housing – they are souls too. Their curriculum brought them here. They are not your enemy. The real "enemy" is any system, story, or structure that convinces us we are separate, and keeps us fighting each other while it feeds on all of us.

We are not here to hate each other.
We are here to remember who we are, and to create what comes next.

With love,
Rā’id