A “word of knowledge” passes our way, saying:

“Your culture will soon be dismantled. It is designed by the devil. It seeks to enslave all.”

Pretty radical words.

Yet when we look around, we certainly have little difficulty seeing both the severe degradation of culture (from crime to foul language to scientist to over-the-top consumerism to blasphemy and besmirchment of God’s Creation) to a society that in a number of ways already looks like the dismantling has begun.

Take covid. Is there a strange mood out there since the pandemic?

Many report a lingering “strange mood” from that, a mix of subtle anxiety, social fatigue, and changed priorities.

For some, there’s a persistent sense of uncertainty or disconnection, even years after the height of the pandemic. Social behaviors, work dynamics, and mental health all shifted, and those effects haven’t fully reset.

It could be described as a cultural “hangover”: things are open and moving once more, but not quite the same.

Do you feel it in your own life or community?

It’s not about fear of the virus anymore but the residue it left behind in how we relate to each other, think about time, and navigate our everyday lives.

There is “social rust” and emotional distance: After long periods of isolation, many people feel out of sync socially. There’s a hesitation or awkwardness in everyday interactions. Social skills, once taken for granted, feel a little “rusty” to some. People report smaller social circles, more anxiety about gatherings, and a tendency to cancel plans or avoid crowded spaces.

There’s low-grade anxiety and “burnout,” especially among those of weak faith.

Even if life seems “back to normal,” call it a lingering stress in the background.

The unpredictability of the pandemic rewired how people assess risk and security.

That stress, mixed with economic uncertainty, has left many in a state of quiet burnout. They’re functioning—but tired, distracted, and emotionally flat.

There was a shift in priorities and values: For many, COVID caused a reckoning, a questioning of old routines—jobs, commutes, living situations, even relationships. Some made big changes; others are still feeling adrift.

This widespread questioning created a collective undercurrent of searching or dissatisfaction, even if it’s not always visible.

Again, for a good number, there were also changes in time perception. It may now feel a bit “weird.” The years 2020–2022 are often remembered as a blur, and the usual markers of life—holidays, birthdays, work achievements—feel disconnected.

This altered sense of time adds to the surreal feeling many describe today.

Digital overload and disconnection?

Oh certainly. The rapid pivot to digital life—Zoom meetings, social media, remote everything—was necessary, but it also deepened a sense of detachment. Many people feel overstimulated and under-connected: constantly “on,” but not truly present or grounded.

And yes, there was a collective grief, not just for the lives lost, but for a world that’s seemed to disappear and morph into what we have now: something uncertain.

The pre-2020 sense of stability and predictability is something many silently mourn. Even if they can’t articulate it, there’s a sense of “something’s missing.”

This “strange mood” isn’t uniform—it hits people differently depending on their life, culture, and experience—but it’s widespread enough to feel like a low-frequency cultural shift.

If it was a poem, AI might call it (and yes, ChatGPT does write poetry) “The Mood That Lingers.”

There’s a quiet in the crowd these days,
a hush beneath the laughter’s haze.
We walk through streets like haunted halls,
where time once marched—now softly stalls.

We nod, we smile, we play our parts,
but carry ghosts in silent hearts.

A cough, a glance, a skipped embrace—
small absences we can’t replace.

The calendar moved on, it’s true,
but something in the air feels new.
Not fresh, not clean, but subtly changed,
like furniture a stranger’s rearranged.

Yet in this mood, this muted tone,
a deeper pulse begins to groan.
We learned to pause, to sit, to stay,
and ask what truly fills the day.

A world still turning, yes—but slow,
as if it knows what we now know.
The future waits with one raised brow—
Who are we, truly, now?