I have the impression that the word “truth” means something different to each of us today.

We all look at the world through our own experiences, our own histories, and the cultures in which we grew up. Because of this, it can sometimes feel almost impossible to find a truth that speaks to everyone in exactly the same way.

But that does not necessarily mean that truth does not exist.

Perhaps it means that our understanding of truth can be incomplete.

We may see one part of a problem and miss another. We may be deeply convinced of something, only to realize later that we had overlooked something important.

History reminds us of this again and again.

For a long time, for example, the geocentric model — the idea that the Sun and other celestial bodies revolved around the Earth — was widely accepted. As knowledge developed, our understanding of the world changed.

Reality itself had not changed.

Our understanding of it had.

And perhaps that is the point.

The world does not remain still.

Knowledge changes.
Technology changes.
Society changes.
The ways we work, communicate, and live together change.

And we change too.

We are continually becoming.

Why “Becoming”?

I chose this word as the name of my journal because I do not believe that a human being is ever completely finished.

We are not final products.

We are continually shaped by what we live through, by the people we meet, by our choices, our mistakes, our wounds, our faith, our doubts, and the questions we have the courage to face.

But to me, becoming does not simply mean changing.

Nor does it mean chasing every new thing simply because it is new.

It means learning how to live in our own time without losing sight of what truly matters.

And today, this has become especially important.

The world changes quickly.

Think, for example, of many older people.

Not because they are less intelligent or less capable.

The world around them has simply changed far more quickly than they may once have imagined.

Today, many public services, documents, payments, appointments, and even ordinary forms of communication depend on smartphones or computers.

People who have not had the opportunity to adapt may find themselves depending on their children, grandchildren, other people, or public institutions.

This does not mean that older people have failed.

And it certainly does not mean that everything new is automatically better than everything old.

It simply reminds us that the world continues to change even when we would prefer it to stand still.

And that raises a question for me:

If one day the world changes in ways we cannot yet imagine, will we still be able to live independently within it?

Perhaps none of us can afford to stop learning completely.

Especially those of us who are young.

Because what feels natural to us today may one day become old.

But how should we live this continual becoming?

Here another problem appears.

Changing is not enough.

A person can change constantly and still feel completely lost.

We can learn new technologies, change jobs, change ideas, move to a different city, and develop new habits.

But if we have no sense of direction, change can become nothing more than movement.

And movement alone is not the same as growth.

This is why I believe we should pay attention not only to whether we are changing, but also to how we are changing.

Where are we going?

What kind of person are we becoming?

What are we looking for?

What are we willing to lose?

And what is worth preserving?

I think these questions matter.

A person without direction can easily become disoriented.

We do not need to have every answer immediately.

Probably none of us does.

But perhaps we need, at the very least, the willingness to look for a direction.

Changing is not enough.
We also need to ask what we are changing into.

Between tradition and change

There is another question that matters deeply to me:

the relationship between tradition and change.

When the world changes, it is tempting to believe that everything belonging to the past should be abandoned.

I do not think that is true.

Changing does not mean erasing everything.

At the same time, preserving a tradition does not necessarily mean repeating everything exactly as it was forever.

The challenge may be more difficult:

to understand what deserves to be preserved and what needs to be reconsidered.

Tradition can carry experience, memory, values, and forms of knowledge that we should not simply throw away.

But if it is to remain alive, it must also be capable of entering into dialogue with the present.

Innovation, to me, does not mean destroying what came before.

It can mean taking what still has value, understanding it again, and allowing it to meet a different world.

The new does not always need to erase the old.

Sometimes it can transform it.

And the past, when it remains alive, can still help us create something that did not exist before.

A question, not a final answer

Becoming was born from these reflections.

I did not create this space because I believe I have all the answers.

Quite the opposite.

I created it because there are many questions I am still thinking about.

Truth.

Faith.

Freedom.

Responsibility.

Technology.

Society.

The relationship between tradition and change.

And, above all, the way these things shape the person we are becoming.

Here, I want to stay with these questions for a little longer.

Sometimes through personal experience.

Sometimes through a social problem.

Sometimes through a book, an idea, a technology, or something very ordinary that happens in everyday life.

I do not want to tell you what you must think.

I would rather invite you to pause for a moment.

To observe.

To ask one more question.

And then to decide.

Because the world will continue to change.

And so will we.

But perhaps the most important question is not simply:

“Will we change?”

It is:

Who are we becoming?