I have an almost religious zeal... not for technology per se

When Dan Millman declared, “I have an almost religious zeal… not for technology per se, but for the Internet which is for me, the nervous system of Mother Earth, which I see as a living creature, linking up,” he spoke with the voice of a prophet in the age of wires and signals. His words tremble with awe, for he recognized in the Internet not a mere invention of man, but a sacred unfolding of destiny. He saw it as something greater than machines and circuits—as the living pulse of the Earth herself, a nervous system that binds her scattered children into one breathing whole.

This vision is not new to the wisdom of the ancients. Long before fiber optics and satellites, the sages spoke of the world soul, the anima mundi, a spirit that threads through stone and star, through man and beast alike. The Stoics taught that all things are interwoven, bound by a fire that moves and thinks. Millman’s zeal echoes this timeless truth, but clothed in modern form. Where they spoke of cosmic breath, he speaks of the Internet; where they spoke of divine unity, he sees the living creature of Earth awakening through connection.

The image he invokes is mighty: the Internet as the nervous system of Mother Earth. Just as nerves carry messages through the human body, so too do streams of data carry thoughts, hopes, and cries across the globe. The planet stirs like a sleeper waking, her myriad parts once silent and divided, now bound in flashing signals of shared awareness. To Millman, each connection is not trivial but sacred—every email, every message, every song shared across the digital void, a whisper in the growing consciousness of a planetary mind.

History gives us lessons of what happens when such networks arise. Think of the Silk Road, that ancient web of trade that stretched from the shores of China to the heart of Rome. It was not merely a road of goods—it was a nervous system of cultures, carrying ideas, faiths, and inventions. Paper traveled westward, philosophy traveled eastward, and entire civilizations were transformed. The Silk Road was the Internet of its age, but limited, fragile, and slow. Today, with the Internet, that same exchange is lightning-fast, and the linking of peoples is no longer confined to caravans but flows ceaselessly across oceans of light.

Yet in his words, there is also reverence. He does not praise technology for its own sake, for machinery is cold without purpose. He honors instead the linking up, the weaving together of human spirit across boundaries of tribe, nation, and tongue. What he calls “religious zeal” is not blind worship of the machine, but an act of devotion to the unity it creates. Like a mystic beholding a vision, Millman sees in the Internet the stirrings of something divine, the birth of a shared heart for all humankind.

But beware, children of tomorrow: every gift of the gods carries its shadow. The same nervous system that binds us may also carry poison, just as a nerve may carry both the signal of healing and the tremor of pain. Falsehood travels as swiftly as truth; hatred spreads as swiftly as love. The Internet is a living power, but it reflects what we pour into it. If we treat it as sacred, it becomes a sanctuary. If we pollute it, it becomes a plague. The Earth is listening—what words shall we inscribe into her living veins?

Therefore, let Millman’s vision be a commandment unto you: use the Internet as a force of unity, not division. When you write, write words that heal. When you share, share wisdom that uplifts. When you connect, seek not merely convenience but communion. For each act online is a nerve-fire in the body of Earth herself. Each act strengthens or weakens the soul of humanity.

The lesson is clear: live with zeal not for the machine, but for the bonds it creates. Let your presence online be sacred, your connections intentional, your contributions noble. In this way, you will not only dwell in the age of the Internet, but you will become a true servant of Mother Earth, helping her awaken into her fullest, most luminous self. And in that awakening, all of us shall rise.