Transitions Are Constant

Cherie Hanson
3 min readOct 2, 2022

Posted on October 2, 2022

In Western culture we are not taught to see transitions. Or if we do see them we are taught to fear them. Our fragility spiritually is magnificent and stunning. It keeps us adolescent, dependent and irresponsible.

One way we are shown our error in judgement is our agape, stunned surprise when the world does not roll down the bowling alley lane like an expertly thrown ball. Control, we are told, will stave off disaster. We still have not made peace with mortality and it makes us half blind.

Control will protect us

As I watch thousands of homes swept away by the clearly, repeatedly, scientifically predicted vulnerability of coast lines, I see how the Western mind seeks shelter. “If we only had better tornado insurance, or earthquake insurance, this loss would not be happening.”

A gigantic yacht tied to a now shattered pier is reported to have been swept inland. It destroyed small nestled homes. The destruction is impressive on so many levels. As those who have lived in cabins for decades and have learned how to endure the predictable chaos of clinging to a shore line have their homes erased, I picture the reaction to a violent intersection of these two worlds.

If only there were insurance for the damage that climate catastrophe is expending on the earth, then all would be well. ‘Somebody’ is supposed to protect us from our own bad decisions.

But the contemporary world is taking the protecting wrapping away from those who believe that there is a way out of mortality. COVID showed up and no matter how expertly the political leaders spun the narrative, we all began to see that if one is vulnerable then all are vulnerable.

Fragile people

I liken it to Voodoo… it is that primitive. We will make a chalk line around ourselves, our families, our cities, our race, our social purchase place and then we are not vulnerable to the vicissitudes of mortality.

I remember watching a special about a rural Canadian community that offered no jobs for those who were growing up in the village. They developed a tradition of buying a lovely new suitcase for the high school graduate (usually male) and put the person along the road to flag down the Greyhound bus. It was time to grow up. This was the initiation ceremony.