A New Era of Reckoning
Woman with an American Flag
This week’s election results hit me like a wave, cold and immobilizing. I sat at my kitchen table, numb, my heart heavy with grief and confusion. Donald Trump’s return to power feels like a step backward, a painful pivot away from the progress we’d fought for. Yet, as I sat there feeling the weight of it all, I was reminded that we are here in “Earth school,” where imbalance teaches us balance, suffering fosters resilience, and change rarely comes without chaos. This is, after all, the path of transformation: uncomfortable, raw, and riddled with lessons we may not be ready for but need nonetheless.
Living in San Francisco, I often find myself immersed in a collective mindset, where conversations about empathy, equality, and spiritual awakening are woven into daily life. It’s a city that embraces progressive ideals, and discussions of transformation and hope feel constant. But even from this supportive environment, I can see that these ideals can feel far removed from the daily realities faced by those who feel left behind or dismissed by the system. In this election, that divide has grown painfully evident. This wasn’t just an election—it was a reckoning of how differently we experience the world based on our circumstances and resources.
Survival, not ideology, drove this election. It is hard for those struggling to focus on the WE, when they can barely focus on the ME. For many struggling with job insecurity, limited access to services, or even stable housing, the promise of “progress” can feel alien, if not threatening. It’s hard to think about the future when your present reality feels so precarious. For many, phrases like “we’re not going back” or “turn the page” evoke fear instead of hope. Progress and social change often feel accessible only to those with the means to embrace it. Many people in this country feel as though they are watching from the sidelines as those in urban, more privileged bubbles push for ideals they struggle to even connect with.
As painful as it is to accept, the collective unconscious is being forced to reckon with itself. It may not be the outcome we wanted, but maybe it’s the one we need to propel us toward deeper introspection, to help raise consciousness for all, and to redefine our values as a nation. Instead of pushing solely for political change, perhaps this is our call to listen more intently.
And if we are truly being honest with ourselves, dismantling patriarchy and white supremacy was never going to come without a very hard-fought battle in this country. Of course, there is resistance—especially among those who have historically benefited from these power structures. This is deep shadow work on both personal and societal levels.
On an individual level, shadow work requires us to confront the aspects of ourselves that we hide or deny—our biases, fears, and unhealed wounds. Each of us harbors conditioning that often goes unchecked, which contributes to the larger collective shadow. On a societal scale, shadow work means facing our country’s hidden realities: systemic inequalities, intergenerational traumas, and the power dynamics that shape our lives. By acknowledging and integrating these darker aspects, we create pathways for healing and transformation, allowing us to evolve toward a more conscious, compassionate society.
Transformation does not come easily—it requires discomfort, upheaval, and often the complete collapse of the familiar. This mirrors the personal growth journey, where you have to fully die to old versions of yourself, shedding outdated identities and beliefs, to be reborn into a truer, more aligned existence. Just as personal transformation demands surrender and trust in the unknown, so too does this collective moment in history. We are being called to release what no longer serves us, embracing the chaos as the fertile ground for renewal and growth.
If there’s one thing these times make crystal clear, it’s the need for connection. Building intentional communities have never been more important. This isn’t just about political solidarity—it’s about having a web of relationships that can hold us up, even as the world around us shifts. In times of change and division, these circles of support offer us stability, grounding, and a place to process our fears and hopes.
Imagine these communities as our safe spaces, our homes within the larger landscape of society. Here, we can share our concerns, brainstorm ideas for action, and support each other through moments of doubt. They can hold our feelings, our stories, and our dreams for a better world. Together, we can build small, resilient networks that make us stronger and remind us that no matter what’s happening on the larger political stage, we are not alone. We need a sense of tribalism now more than ever, a feeling of belonging to something greater than ourselves. In the face of division, we must gather, building communities that value empathy, mutual respect, and shared resources. Alone, we are weaker; together, we are resilient.
