When the System Cracks

Lately, things have been feeling a bit on the panicky side. Not just the low hum of existential worry we’ve grown used to, but something a bit sharper in focus. Since the Trump tariffs hit the headlines, conversatons inevitably turn to the mayhem and then “Have you heard what else he’s done?” And he’s not even running of the country I’m living in. It’s like a collective, anxious, holding of the breath.

And fair enough. These aren’t minor disruptions. The moves being made are loud and destabilising, and they reverberate around the globe. A Danish friend told me recently that “it feels like the US is waging war on us”. Even here in Australia, where we haven’t yet seen direct material consequences, the psychological effect is undeniable. The ripple is in the mood, the media, the universal nervous system. The chaos hijacks attention.

This is how systems like this one work—not only by dominating economies and policies, but by seizing imagination and emotional bandwidth. We worry because it matters. But the worrying also keeps us in its orbit. We become caught in a feedback loop of reactivity, fed by headlines and hashtags, shaped by a cycle that thrives on shock and distraction.

So how do we respond when the system cracks?

Well, we can look not just at what’s cracking, but at what the cracks reveals.

In my recent writing, I’ve been exploring how to live artfully—intentionally, ethically, and beautifully—within a collapsing world. The cracks in the system, whether political or economic or psychological, aren’t necessarily a cause for despair. They’re an invitation to figure out the weaknesses of the system so we can find out what no longer works.

I don’t say this to romanticise collapse, or to minimise the danger of authoritarianism. But if we’re serious about living differently, we can’t wait for the chaos to resolve itself. We need to find ways to ground ourselves in meaning and connection now, even as the structures around us feel increasingly unstable.

This doesn’t mean tuning out or pretending it’s not happening. But it does mean refusing to give our entire inner lives over to it.

For me, the antidote isn’t escape—it’s creative disobedience.

In musing for my book I’ve been thinking about the ways that the people I met living in ecovillages enact resistance against the all encompassing power of the capitalist system. It doesn’t happen through confrontation, but through choosing to live differently. Slowing down. Building real community. Making things that can’t be bought. Sharing time. Growing food. Choosing care over consumption.

It sounds soft. But it’s not, it’s strategic. It’s what systems of control fear most: people deciding for themselves what matters and turning their energy toward beauty, connection, and collective well-being—especially in times designed to exhaust, divide and distract.

So if you’re feeling hijacked by the headlines, you’re not alone.

But it’s also an opportunity to find a different way of being in the world. What are the rhythms of life that are grounding rather than panic inducing? Instead of unconscoius assent, where can we say no?

I was thinking about the different metaphors I could use to think about this issue. One parallel is with the Japanese art of Kintsugi. This ancient tradition is where broken ceramic vessels are repaired and the cracks highlighted with gold. The process is about holding respect for damage as an important and beautiful part of lifes journey. The present unravelling can most definitely be seen in this light, but it is limited to making the new from what was broken.

Then I began wondering about other ways that the broken can be used to bring in a whole new thing, and I came up with mosaic work. One can make a mosaic using ceramic shards, but it can also use things like broken glass, pieces of metal, found objects, pebbles. The list is only limited by the imagination. Rather than focusing on what might be breaking, maybe this latest crack can signal possibilities ahead. Not only what can be made anew from the original vessel, but what elements we can bring in to make a the new into something unexpected and beautiful.