Invisible Currents
- Karenina Fabrizzi
- 6 days ago
- 2 min read
At this moment, the human collective seems to be deeply influenced by the weight of the events unfolding on our beloved planet.
We are living through times marked by conflict, environmental damage, displacement, and profound uncertainty.
These experiences move through us collectively, even when they are not part of our immediate reality, they are invisible currents.
We are affected by them emotionally, energetically, and creatively, often in ways we cannot fully name or understand.
This is not something mystical or abstract; it is part of how life functions.
Just as tides respond to the moon, human emotions, creativity, and collective moods respond to subtle rhythms that surround us.
When we begin to observe more closely, patterns start to emerge. They are delicate, almost imperceptible at first, yet unmistakably meaningful.
These patterns may appear chaotic on the surface, but beneath them there is an undeniable sense of order.
Everything follows a structure, even when that structure is temporarily hidden from view.
The more we recognize this, the more we begin to trust the process of life itself.
The cosmos offers a powerful reminder of this truth. When we look at the vastness of the universe, its precision and harmony, something within us relaxes.
We feel calmer, more grounded, less overwhelmed by the apparent disorder of our daily lives.
Even now, when the world may feel unstable or fragmented, there is still an underlying intelligence at work.
What we often perceive as chaos is frequently a necessary phase of transformation.
Before meaningful change can occur, destruction must sometimes take place—not as an act of violence, but as a revelation.
Breakdown exposes what is no longer working. It brings damage into the light so that it can be acknowledged and repaired.
Without this stage, true evolution would be impossible. Order does not disappear during these moments; it reorganizes itself.
In art, this process is deeply familiar. As an artist, I often move through periods of complete chaos while working on a painting. There are moments when everything feels wrong, when the image loses coherence, when I question every decision.
At other times, there is total blockage—a silence where nothing seems to flow. Yet these moments are not failures; they are essential stages of creation. They demand patience, surrender, and trust.
Only by passing through confusion can clarity emerge. Only by allowing disorder can a deeper harmony be found. In this sense, art mirrors life, and life mirrors the cosmos.
The same energies that move stars and oceans also move human creativity, emotions, and collective consciousness.
When we accept that we are influenced by forces greater than ourselves—without fear, without resistance—we begin to work with them instead of against them.
We become more attentive, more intuitive, more present. And slowly, even amid uncertainty, a sense of calm returns. We realize that nothing is truly random. Everything is part of a larger, perfectly ordered movement, even when we cannot yet see its final form.
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