There’s a theme emerging. Many of my friends—and I—are in the middle of rapid, soul-level transformation.
The story usually starts the same way:
Just when things finally feel stable—a solid relationship, consistent work, a sense of rhythm—everything shifts. People leave. Foundations crack. The inner compass wobbles. And suddenly, what once felt like life doesn’t feel like my life anymore.
I’ve navigated big changes before, but in the past, there was space to breathe between them. Not anymore. Over the last six years, change has come in waves—with no time to catch my breath. Just when I think the ground has settled, another tremor. Another letting go. Another redefinition of normal.
In grief work, this is called loss of the assumptive world—when the core beliefs and expectations that made life feel safe and predictable are shattered. It's not just the outer world that changes, but the inner framework holding it all together. When loss happens repeatedly, it creates deep instability. Familiar landmarks disappear. What once gave meaning no longer fits.
But here's the thing: in that instability, we begin to access the Mystery.
When everything we leaned on collapses, when we’re no longer sure who we are or what’s coming next, we begin to listen differently. The Mystery becomes not a void, but a presence. It invites us into stillness, surrender, and curiosity. And eventually—if we stay long enough—it opens the door to something even more powerful: Magic.
Magic is what happens when we stop resisting the unknown and start relating to it. It speaks through synchronicities, intuitive hits, unexpected grace. It's not something we control—it’s something we co-create. What starts as chaos becomes a kind of alchemy.
This isn’t just happening within us. The same deconstruction is unfolding collectively. Our political systems, social contracts, and even our understanding of truth and identity are unraveling. We’re witnessing the collapse of our collective assumptive world. Outer instability is mirroring our inner transformation—and vice versa.
And yet—we are showing each other the way. Each time someone chooses presence over panic, or openness over control, they model what it means to trust the Mystery. Each time someone taps into their own quiet knowing, they remind us that Magic is possible—even now.
Especially now.
This is the invitation of our time:
To walk through loss not as victims, but as visionaries.
To stand in the Mystery without needing all the answers.
To remember that Magic lives in co-creation.
We are not being undone.
We are being remade.