Falling into place

It’s hard when things are falling apart. It feels chaotic and scary. The ground shifts beneath us, familiar markers disappear, and suddenly we’re standing in a place we never planned to be. Not knowing what lies on the other side makes us deeply uncomfortable. If we had the answers ahead of time, maybe we wouldn’t feel so anxious. We’d see the path clearly, follow it neatly, and arrive exactly where we were supposed to land.

But that’s not how it works. And honestly—how boring would that be?

Without the unknown, there would be no mystery. No surprises. No outcomes more beautiful or strange or generous than anything we could have imagined. Life would be predictable, tidy, and far smaller than it actually is.

The real work comes in letting go of what we think “falling into place” should look like.

The invitation is to soften during the in-between—the messy middle—when nothing makes sense yet. Instead of bracing against the void, we loosen our grip just enough to breathe. We stop fighting the darkness of not-knowing and begin to trust that something is still unfolding, even if it doesn’t resemble the picture we had in our heads.

This doesn’t mean everything is easy. Or comfortable. Or instantly okay. It means trusting that even when things feel like they’re unraveling, they may also be rearranging. It means believing that life can be both chaotic and meaningful at the same time. That what’s breaking down might also be clearing space for something truer.

When we learn to hold both—the falling apart and the mystery of what’s around the corner—our lives gain room to surprise us. To meet us in ways we never could have planned. To become richer, deeper, more alive than we dared to hope.

So consider this your permission slip. Permission to release the timeline. Permission to loosen the storyline. Permission to trust the magic and the mystery.

Something is finding its way into place—even if it doesn’t look like it yet.

If this message resonates, I invite you to explore the artwork in my shop. Each piece is created as a visual anchor for moments of transition—reminders to trust the unfolding, even when the path isn’t clear. You can view the collection and find the piece that speaks to you there.