Tonight, I find myself untangling threads of emotion, stirred by a film and the hauntingly familiar chords of Bob Dylan’s music. A Complete Unknown transported me back to a time when hope was loud, when music carried the voice of a generation demanding justice, equality, and change. The sixties and seventies were turbulent, yet underneath the chaos there was an undeniable rhythm, a unifying force that propelled us forward. Hearing those songs again, I felt an ache for what once was—a time when we believed we could change the world.

But now, standing in this present moment, it feels different. The weight of today’s chaos presses down, heavy and relentless. The noise of the world is deafening, drowning out any clear call for unity. Instead of a guiding light, there is fire—literal and metaphorical—consuming the structures we once believed in. Destruction looms in every corner, and leadership in places of power feels hollow, reactive, and driven by greed rather than vision.

I have always been a forward-thinker, a believer in the power of possibility, in our capacity to rise. Yet, something in me whispers that we must face the collapse before we can dream of rebuilding. Maybe it is too late for salvaging what is. Maybe the earth, in her infinite wisdom, is rising to sweep away what no longer serves life. And maybe, just maybe, we must let it fall.

In the face of this unraveling, despair simmers just beneath the surface, but it doesn’t own me. I know where I must turn—where I have always turned—back to the earth, to the stars, to the ancient rhythm that hums beneath the noise. I lean into love, into compassion, and into the fierce wisdom of those who came before me. They knew darkness, too. They faced endings and found beginnings hidden in the ashes.

So, I will do what I can, here and now. I will nurture my inner light, however fragile it feels. I will seek the helpers, stand beside them, and offer what strength I have. I will pray, not for an easy path but for courage and clarity. I will continue to be a resource for those around me, no matter how small my circle may seem. And I will trust that even in the dark, there is something sacred unfolding.

This may be an end, but perhaps it is also a beginning. The sun and moon rises, and so must we.