“Grief, people used to say, is an ocean. And in a sense, there are times when everything has to go back to the ocean in order that we all be washed clean, in order that the deep waters from which life came can absorb those things that are no longer contributing to life.”
- Michael Meade
Our existing structures are showing unmistakable signs of being obsolete: geopolitical turmoil, accelerating ecological collapse, systemic violence, culture wars, and a growing skepticism of our current social mechanisms and government institutions being capable of navigating these crises. The WEF 2025 Global Risk Report ranks “state-based armed conflict” as the top immediate global risk and “misinformation and disinformation” as the leading near-term threat. These global indicators mirror what many of us are already feeling: a deep, pervasive sense of unraveling. A sense of fragmentation felt not only politically and economically, but on an emotional and spiritual level as well.
Beneath the strains and fractures of our systems, there lives grief. Grief for the loss of worlds and ways of being that are ending. Grief for the ancient beings of rainforests and reefs. Grief for the cumulative weight of harm we have inherited and perpetuated.
To be with grief is not a failure or a weakness. In these times, even the most fierce activist-warrior must accept some level of defeat. And while the coping strategies of denying and numbing has its place, there’s a dissonance that can grow over time. A quiet ache between what we feel deep in our bodies and the pace of business-as-usual expectations we try to keep up with.
We are learning what it means to process unprecedented losses with wisdom and care. What does it look like to be in the oceans of grief with community? Can we let grief be our teacher without needing to get it over quickly or force resolution?
Yes, and, to name the tension here: Honoring grief fully does not mean we have to postpone imagination.
This is not about bypassing grief. And the long, slow breath it deserves ultimately exists outside this piece of writing. But to feel it fully is what allows us to acknowledge the depth of change required, and the emergent possibilities that can arise. Between grieving honestly and dreaming responsibly is the tension of transformation. To integrate the complexity of this paradox, without falling into naive optimism or nihilistic despair, is one of the defining aspects of the metamodern times we live in.
“…it is healing behavior, to look at something so broken and see the possibility and wholeness in it.” — Adrienne Marie Brown
We are living in the liminal era. An uncertain and often chaotic threshold between what is crumbling and what is yet to become. This is a portal that oscillates between “everything is absolutely f*cked” and “my heart still longs for another world”. A highly complex time that is dark but equally fertile. A mucky, underground mycelial space where collective visioning breeds seeds of new paradigms.
Here, while we simultaneously hold space for the rage and pain that lives within grief, we can also notice what is already being woven around us. Like in our personal lives, clarity on what is ending is essential to getting clear on what we are making room for next. The small acts of care, numerous community initiatives, cultural experiments, ecological restoration, and art that softens hearts and minds. These threads are born out of the polycrisis. And they are threads that can guide our attention, energy, and action.
There is a call for a deeper kind of presence. One that asks us to cultivate novel ways of sensing, navigating, and meaning-making. Through this lens, we embody the “both/ands” and multiple truths. We practice seeing the not-yet-visible and meeting the unknown as a doorway rather than a problem to be fixed. These are not just intellectual exercises, they are tools to help us respond with intention and authenticity, instead of reactivity amidst the fragmentation and confusion.
This threshold of the in-between may span the breadth of our lifetimes and the lifetimes of the next generation. But we are stewards of a world ever-evolving, connected across geological timescales. With loss and instability comes an openness to change that is not available when times are stable. Therefore, we hold power and opportunity.
With that opportunity, we can build courage. To dive into the liminal space with curiosity. To be brave enough to grieve. And brave enough to dream. Through this, we also see that what unites us is far greater than what divides us.