You and I created the chaos we’re living through.

Not out of malice or carelessness—but with intention.

We visualized it. We imagined a world transformed.

We meditated for change. We prayed for awakening.

We dug deep into our wounds, our histories, our inherited pain—and we began to heal.

We chose this time.

We volunteered to be here, now—midwives to a dying world and architects of a new one.

In our most magnanimous moments, we said yes to being map-makers.

We pledged to carve new paths across unfamiliar terrain—paths that would lead us, and others, toward something more whole, more sane, more sacred.

We asked for change.

And the Universe, in her chaotic brilliance, answered.

And yet, we are surprised.

We feel off-balance.

Our emotions lurch from fear to hope, from grief to longing.

We mourn what was. Even if what was no longer served us, it was known. Familiar. Tangible.

Now we struggle to see how the pieces fit.

We wonder if the vision we held—of harmony, healing, balance—was just a dream.

We ask ourselves: Have we gone too far?

And the answer is: It depends.

It depends on whether we can stay anchored in our vision.

It depends on whether we can still see the world we dreamed of—

Where greed and hoarding are no longer honored,

Where power is no longer wielded as dominance but shared as presence.

Where each being is seen as sacred, unique, vital.

A world where we no longer exploit the planet as commodity,

But revere her as kin.

Where the water is clean.

Where the forests breathe.

Where the insects hum their quiet symphonies in thriving ecosystems we no longer ignore.

This is not the end. This is the middle of the work.

This chaos is not the enemy—it’s the crucible.

It is the cracking open of systems built on extraction, domination, and division.

It is the sound of old scaffolding collapsing—so that something new can be born.

We may not know yet what the new looks like.

But we know what it feels like.

We’ve tasted it in our quiet meditations.

We’ve seen it in visions.

Felt it in ritual, in prayer, in circle.

We’ve held it in our bones like a memory of the future.

The world we called forth is arriving—but it needs a place to land.

So we hold the frequency.

We keep dreaming.

We keep building altars in our homes and in our hearts.

We stay in practice. We stay in alignment. We trust.

Because you’ve been doing this work longer than you remember.

And we are not alone.

We are in this together.

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Something to Share

And now, something simple. Something sacred.

This work—this visioning, holding, trusting—isn’t always loud or dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like small, steady rituals.

Little anchors to remind you of the bigger picture when everything around you feels like it’s unraveling.

So here’s a quiet way to ground the vision:

Because I’m a crystal guy, I’ve got a suggestion.

Gather three stones: Howlite, Jade, and Apache Tear (or Black Obsidian if that’s easier to find).

Place them somewhere you’ll see every day—by your coffee mug, your toothbrush, your journal, your dog’s leash.

You don’t have to “do” anything specific. Just let them be present.

Maybe you hold them. Maybe not. Maybe they sit beside your water glass or next to your keyboard.

They will still work.

They will act as talismans—touchstones for your intention.

They’ll remind you that you chose this path, and you’re not alone.

•   Howlite helps calm mental chatter and opens a channel to your inner knowing.

•   Jade centers you in your heart and helps you stay true to your most authentic self.

•   Apache Tear or Black Obsidian supports your emotional release—grief, fear, hope, and all the wild mess in between.

And if you’re near Phoenix, we’ve created something special to support this practice.

Gisela and Millie have put together a We’re In This Together crystal set—with these three stones—to gift to anyone who could use a little extra grounding right now.

Just come by and ask for it. One set per family, while supplies last.

It’s suitable for all ages, but especially intended for those doing the deeper inner work.

The vision you’ve been holding?

It’s real.

It’s forming.

And now, it has a place to land.