Bushwacking an aligned future

Generationally, money was earned and hoarded through tüchtig — relentless striving, elbows out, fear-driven diligence. For those who lived through war, displacement, and poverty, that way of being was not optional; it was survival. To be diligent, to accumulate, to store away, was to guarantee life itself. The posture made sense then. It worked. But it came at a price: the hardening of the heart, the loss of presence, the disconnection from trust.

The paradox is striking. That generation built security and amassed wealth, yet they lived as if they were still poor, still endangered, still without enough. The war animal was long gone, but the body never came down from the tree. The nervous system never unclenched. The posture of defense became permanent. That is the inheritance.

Now comes the next movement in the cycle. The old system is overstaying its welcome. It is crumbling globally and personally. What worked for survival has turned into its own form of suffocation. The wealth is there, but life itself is not flowing. The children of that system are faced with a different task: to redirect energy, to invest in what comes next. That means walking off the beaten path, into unmapped terrain, with no guarantees and no obvious payoff.

That’s where the image of the bushwhacker comes alive. One figure carrying the machete, carving through thickets, searching for a new spring because the old wells are drying up. It is unpaid labor. It looks foolish to those who only measure by the coin. It looks lazy or irresponsible to those still bound to tüchtig. But in truth, it is the most important work.

The generational thread becomes clear: the parents and ancestors fought, clawed, and hoarded to ensure survival. Their children carry the scars and the mistrust in their own systems, yet some have turned toward presence. They have said: “Enough. I will not build more fortresses around scarcity. I will search for the living water.” And in that search, a new inheritance is created — one where money and survival no longer dictate life, but where generosity, trust, and presence become the currency.

Seen from this angle, the paradox softens. The wealth accumulated through fear has bought the time and space for someone to bushwhack. The old system, in its dysfunction, still funded the possibility of a new path. Now, the task is to acknowledge the importance of this shift — to see that what looks unproductive is actually laying the foundation for the future.

The work underway is not just personal. It is ancestral and global. It is the turning of the soil, the composting of the old. It is what allows the cycle to continue, not stuck in hubris and nemesis alone, but opening into presence.