Chaos Among Serendipity

Chaos. It’s a fitting word for the times we’re living in.

Everything feels like it’s happening all at once. The federal government is shut down. Grocery prices are through the roof. The job market is sinking, and the housing market is completely unhinged. I read somewhere that utility bills are about to spike, too. Meanwhile, here in Los Angeles, it still feels like summer—despite the calendar insisting it's almost November. Climate change, anyone?

Racists are confused about geography. Just a reminder: Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory. Bad Bunny is a U.S. citizen. Enough said.

A basic grocery run now costs me around $100—and that’s without a bottle of Champagne. Businesses are still trying to navigate the ever-shifting tariff landscape. Is Trump still changing the rules on that?

Journalists have handed in their press badges at the Pentagon. Universities are refusing to sign the Trump administration’s new federal grant pact. Has any school actually agreed to it?

Meanwhile, in Southern California, the 5 Freeway—one of the busiest highways in the country—was shut down because the military was firing missiles overhead. Sure. Why not?

My Instagram feed is full of headlines about the U.S. passport dropping out of the global Top 10. But honestly, how much does that matter when we have full-grown adults who don’t know Puerto Rico is part of the United States? Who cares about passport rankings when our education system has failed to teach basic geography for generations? That’s the real embarrassment.

Oh, and apparently there was a bedbug outbreak at Google’s New York offices, sending employees back to remote work. I’m not even going to get into AI and how it's already replacing entry-level jobs. That’s a whole other essay.

Somewhere on Kauai. November 2024.

I cannot ignore what’s happening, but I’ve chosen to emotionally detach—not out of indifference, but out of necessity. I’ve accepted that I cannot breathe intelligence into ignorance, turn hate into love, or save those who refuse to be saved. Most importantly, I had to acknowledge that I am not Jesus; I cannot feed 5,000 with five loaves and two fish. I cannot save all. We cannot save all.

Over the past three years, I’ve worked diligently to build a serene life—one that satisfies my cravings and curiosities. I’ve filled my space with treasures that bring quiet gratitude. I’ve filled my time with things that bring euphoria, adrenaline, delight, fulfillment—and sometimes, simply peace in the mundane. I’ve built habits and routines, adjusting them as needed whenever the symptoms of clinical depression resurfaced.

I've learned that the only true control I have in life is over my own life. I can’t control what happens in the world, but I can shape what happens in my world. I decide what enters my space—physically and emotionally. I set boundaries and enforce consequences. I manage what occupies my time and energy. I determine the who, what, where, and when of everything that exists within my orbit.

And in doing so, I created space for serendipity—for the unexpected joys I never planned for but deeply needed.

The chaos of our times had once seeped into my life and chipped away at its health. But now, wrapped in the sanctuary I’ve built, I find that chaos no longer pierces me. It bounces off the layers of serenity and serendipity I’ve intentionally cultivated.

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