Erosion, not Explosion

A Field Guide to Slow Work, Sacred Mess, and Unseen Change

We grow up imagining that saving the world is a heroic act: bold, dramatic, sweeping.

But in practice, it’s more like wiping down a table.

It’s tedious emails, picking up trash, sitting through conflict without shutting down.

It’s showing up again, even when no one notices.

Culture shifts slowly, like the coastlines: quiet, persistent, retreating and returning.

The true work of transformation is often invisible. Unapplauded. Undramatic.

And still, it matters.

The Illusion of Solutions

Our culture worships answers— quick fixes, step-by-step guides, and expert opinions.

We’re sold the myth that if we’re just smart, moral, or determined enough, we can fix anything.

But complex crises—climate collapse, colonial legacies, systemic suffering—don’t yield to this kind of thinking.

They’re not mechanical problems. They can’t be hacked or optimized.

They are woven into histories, ecologies, and relationships.

And relationships can’t be ‘fixed.’ They can only be tended.

The world is not a problem to be solved. It is a relative to be respected.

Indigenous wisdom has always known this.

When we relate to the Earth as kin, not object, we shift—from domination to reciprocity.

From solving to caring. From control to connection.

What are you thinking about after reading this? Feel free to leave a comment, I’d love to hear.

The Trap of Perfectionism

We’ve been taught that progress is linear: input → output.

Do the work, get the result. Easy math.

But change doesn’t work like that.

It loops, spirals, stalls, regresses.

And in this tangled reality, perfectionism becomes a trap.

We wait for the perfect idea, the right moment, the flawless execution—and so we never begin.

Progress is messy.

It’s foggy.

It’s full of dust and detours.

The next right step is the only kind of action we get in the real world: imperfect and partial.

The softest thing in the world overcomes the hardest.

Water wears down stone. Gentle persistence reshapes even the most rigid structures.

A Both/And Ethic

Critical complexity asks us to hold paradox.

There is great dissonance between how we imagine saving the world and what it actually looks like.

In our fantasies, we are heroes saving the world.

In reality, we are just people doing dishes. Making calls. Sweeping floors. Trying again.

And worse, when we disrupt the status quo, people push back.

This work probably won’t make you famous. It won’t always feel meaningful. People won’t always be as grateful as they should be.

A Both/And Ethic asks us to hold many deep contrasts inside of us simultaneously.

For example:

• You can be doing world-changing work while your life feels completely ordinary.

• You can recognize that your actions (and the actions of others!) matter—even while knowing they are not enough.

• There is beauty, and there is pain. At the same time. In the same breath.

Grounding in the Storm

To face complexity without numbing, we need practices that root us in presence.

Breath. Body. Connection. Stillness.

In a culture of urgency, slowness is radical.

Stillness is power. Rest is rebellion.

The most compelling voice is not the loudest—it’s the most honest.

It speaks with nuance, compassion, context, and care.

Certainty is often fear in disguise.

Mystery is honest.

Uncertainty is sacred.

Our power lies not in knowing how it all turns out—but in choosing to act anyway.

A Blessing for the Quiet Revolution

May we resist the fantasy of perfection.

May we let go of cinematic salvation.

May we save the world one dusty task, one small kindness at a time.

May we trust the slow work.

May we give, knowing the Earth gives back.

May we follow the soft path that wears down mountains.

I read every reply. You don’t need to say anything “profound”—just write what’s true for you. Hit 'reply' or send me a message below.

Further reading -

Not Doing Things Better, But Doing Better Things

mother.

hope is a four-letter word