New Religion & a Quality Online Footprint

The Future of the Alpha Kids we are giving birth to…

My three children — ages one, three, and five — are each discovering life in their own way. They are curious about everything. They enjoy simply being alive. And the older ones have already begun asking me questions about God, power, love, and influence.
What are these concepts? What do we use them for?
And honestly… it’s incredibly hard to put my own thoughts into words. Hard even to understand what my real point of view is.

We were told so many things, raised on so many stories, that somewhere along the way we gave up trying to understand the eternal question we supposedly “ate that damned apple for”:
What is Good, and what is Bad?

My children ask me this constantly. And somehow, I feel that my answer to them will become the light or shadow of the new generation — Generation Alpha. I love that name. It carries hope, a sense of beginning again. And we millennials — the Y generation — stand between two worlds: trying to soothe the pain of Generation X, who were buried alive by the online era, while also raising these Alphas to be wiser, healthier, and more resilient.
We remember the old ways of doing things, and we feel the pressure of the modern requirement to “be someone respectable” — or at least appear so.

One thing I know for sure: I don’t want to teach my kids that God is accurately described by the Bible. To me, it’s a book shaped by financial and political agendas, filled with the ambitions of powerful — even dangerous — men.
Our parents told us God exists and took us to church on Sundays, but they made moral compromises every single day just to survive. And then we pushed those compromises even further for social validation — for how we wanted others to see us.
We pretended to have influence over a phenomenon that never really belonged to us.

So I began building a kind of new religion for my children — not an institution, but a piece of art.
I do believe, without any doubt, that a superior power exists. Different cultures call it different names; scientists describe it in their own ways. But there is a force we come from and a force we return to. I call it God, but my God has very little to do with the biblical one.

I imagine a vast field of energy filled with intensely Good and Bad instincts — not moral good or evil, but raw creation and raw destruction. What if Evil doesn’t even exist the way we think?
What if God is simply clearing clutter from the Self?
What if “creating life” means giving each human a small piece of this divine energy — a soul that reflects God’s own duality?

Then perhaps when we die, we return that piece. God keeps the parts that are meaningful and lets the rest dissolve. Maybe that’s what eternal life or disappearance truly means: the integration or release of something that once belonged to God.

In this view, God is both Good and Bad — light and shadow — and every human life is one small simulation, one artistic experiment. We don’t own the soul; we only shape its journey.

And so I think of life — my soul, your soul, my children’s souls — as a piece of art. A blank canvas we draw on.

This brings me to personal branding — something many of us never wanted, yet are now forced to participate in. The brush of our era, the tool we use to paint on this blank canvas, is social media.
I know… I disliked it myself for years. But even when applying for a legal job, the recruiter looked up my online profiles. At one point in my life, a single mediocre online presence quietly closed a door for me.

Whether we like it or not, having a “good record” on social platforms has become part of reality. Our children won’t have the luxury of opting out; digital presence has turned into a second world — a distorted reflection of our human imperfections.

Posting online felt, at first, like a kind of betrayal — a deep cognitive discomfort. It was me, someone who had always mocked social media, suddenly trying to perform confidence on it.

And so I tried to make sense of all this — God, Good & Bad, financial stability, peace of mind, social media, authenticity — and build a story I could believe in. Something I could tell my children as the foundation of a new kind of faith.
If they choose to accept or reject it later, that choice will be theirs.

Throughout my life I visited churches of many religions with an open heart, hoping to find a God I could genuinely love. I never found one. So I began shaping my own concept — and I believe many others are doing the same. It would be wonderful to meet them someday, people who question and create with the same sincerity.

In my new religion, God is a powerful being — or field — containing both Good and Bad. Life is a temporary loan of divine energy. When the game ends, we return it. Maybe it comes back in another lifetime, maybe not.

But the question remains: What do we do with this soul while we live?

When you don’t have children, you can decide to withdraw from the cruelty of the world. You can say you’re done trying. But when you do have children, you must offer them a path — even if you wouldn’t have built one for yourself.

What I create is a written and visual biography — a true reflection of the soul I’ve been entrusted with. A drawing on this temporary canvas. And maybe, when the game is over and I return that piece of soul, God will look at it and laugh gently and say:
“It’s fine, Anita. This looks decent.”

That is Imprōvisō and IkoniKids for me:
a piece of art crafted from the soul I’m renting, a message for Generation Alpha to create a kinder God, a healthier worldview, a new religion for themselves — because the old ones turned too often into systems of fear, control, and political theatre.

We need a God we can love, not a monster we must obey.

And now we raise children in a system that demands we be “nice” even when a child needs firmness to feel safe. A system where kids become unhealthy, disconnected, and numb while we confuse enabling with kindness.
A system created by us — people chasing validation, shaming each other into harming ourselves and those we love.

The monster, the “evil,” is inside us. And God contains it too.
Perhaps all God hopes is that some of us succeed in clearing the clutter from the soul we’ve been given.