We are all f*cked. But please let me explain.

The narrative of Western civilization’s decline has become a familiar one. In almost every corner of society, we see evidence of disarray—political divisions that seem unbridgeable, economies teetering on the edge, environmental crises multiplying, and cultural values that once seemed solid now eroding before our eyes. Many people, gripped by fear or anger, feel compelled to do something—anything—to stave off what they see as inevitable collapse.

But not me.

I find myself content to sit tight, observe, and see how things play out. This isn’t a case of apathy or detachment. Rather, it’s about finding a sense of peace in the midst of chaos, accepting that certain things are beyond my control, and choosing to focus on what truly matters. It might sound strange in a world obsessed with constant action, but I believe there’s something deeply valuable in learning how to be rather than always feeling the need to do.

Why the Fear of Decline Feels So Immediate

At the root of our collective anxiety is an idea that civilization must always progress upward—that any signs of decline are inherently bad and should be fought against at all costs. We’ve been taught to view history as a linear story of progress, but the reality is far more cyclical. Civilizations rise, reach their apex, and eventually, they decline. It has happened countless times before, and it’s happening again now.

I’m not saying we should welcome societal decay with open arms. I understand why so many people feel the urge to act, to save what we have, or to somehow reverse the tides. But I also think it’s important to recognize the limits of our control. We live in systems so vast and interconnected that individual efforts, no matter how well-intentioned, often feel like trying to stop a river with a single stone.

This is where acceptance comes in.

The Power of Acceptance Over Panic

When confronted with decline, our instinct is often to panic, to scramble for solutions, or to flee. But panic only leads to more chaos. It drains our energy, clouds our judgment, and leaves us feeling exhausted before we’ve even begun to address the issue at hand. I’ve seen this play out over and over in recent years, as people become overwhelmed by the sheer number of crises unfolding around them—economic instability, environmental collapse, political gridlock—and feel powerless to change any of it.

But here’s the thing: acceptance doesn’t mean surrender. It’s not about throwing up your hands and doing nothing. Rather, it’s about recognizing that some forces are bigger than us, and that there’s a natural ebb and flow to history. It’s about choosing where to place your energy—on things you can actually influence—and letting go of the need to control the rest.

In embracing this mindset, I’ve found a certain calm. I no longer feel the need to wrestle with the big, overwhelming problems of the world. Instead, I focus on the smaller, more intimate areas of my life—my relationships, my personal growth, my community. These are the things I can affect. These are the things that, for me, matter most.

Staying Present in a World Obsessed with the Future

In times of decline, there’s a tendency to become overly fixated on the future—on what’s coming next, on the disasters that might happen, on how much worse things could get. It’s as if we’re all collectively holding our breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop. But this kind of future-oriented thinking only pulls us out of the present, robbing us of the peace and joy that still exist in the here and now.

I’ve made a conscious effort to stay present, even as the world around me feels increasingly uncertain. This doesn’t mean I’m ignoring the future or pretending that challenges don’t exist. It simply means I refuse to let the uncertainty of tomorrow steal the richness of today. I’m choosing to engage with the world as it is, rather than constantly worrying about what it might become.

This shift in mindset was brought into sharp relief for me recently during a wildfire that came perilously close to my home. In those tense hours, I was struck by how, in moments of crisis, the future became irrelevant. What mattered was the present—the safety of my family, the support of my community, the bravery of the first responders. It reminded me that, even when the structures of society feel fragile, human connection remains strong.

It’s in these moments that I find meaning and hope. Not in grand plans or sweeping reforms, but in the simple, everyday acts of kindness and solidarity that emerge when we need them most.

Finding Resilience in Adaptation

There’s a common narrative that resilience means standing firm in the face of adversity, refusing to bend or break under pressure. But I think there’s a different kind of resilience that’s just as valuable, if not more so: the resilience of adaptation.

When I look at nature, I see countless examples of this kind of resilience. Trees bend in the wind to avoid snapping. Rivers change their course over time, carving new paths through the landscape. Animals adapt to their environments, evolving to meet the challenges they face. There’s a quiet wisdom in this kind of resilience—a recognition that sometimes the best way to survive is to change, to flow, to evolve.

I’ve come to adopt this mindset in my own life. Rather than clinging to rigid ideas of how things should be, I’m learning to embrace how things are. I’m prepared to adapt to whatever comes, whether it’s a further decline in our political systems, environmental challenges, or cultural shifts. This doesn’t mean I’m passive or indifferent—it means I’m choosing to be flexible, to conserve my energy for the things that really matter, and to let go of the things I can’t control.

The Importance of Small, Local Connections

In times of widespread societal change, it’s easy to lose sight of the small, personal connections that form the backbone of our lives. When everything feels like it’s falling apart on a grand scale, it can be tempting to retreat into isolation, or worse, to become so obsessed with the “big picture” that we neglect the people and communities closest to us.

But I believe that these small, local connections are more important now than ever. When we focus on the relationships around us—our families, friends, neighbors, and communities—we find stability and meaning that transcends the larger chaos. It’s these relationships that will see us through hard times, and it’s these relationships that will endure, even as civilizations rise and fall.

My recent experience with the wildfire brought this truth into sharp focus. In the midst of uncertainty and danger, it was my community that mattered most. The neighbors who checked in on each other. The first responders who risked their lives to protect our homes. The simple act of coming together in the face of adversity. It reminded me that, while systems and structures may falter, human connection remains a constant source of strength.

Choosing to Stay Steady

In the end, my decision to sit tight and observe the unfolding of history is about more than just waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about choosing to stay steady in a world that feels increasingly chaotic. It’s about focusing on what I can control, and letting go of the need to solve problems that are far beyond my reach.

This doesn’t mean I’ve given up hope. On the contrary, I’m optimistic about our ability to adapt, innovate, and find new ways of living, even in the midst of decline. But I’m also realistic. I know that the changes we’re facing are complex and long-term, and that there’s no quick fix. I’m content to be patient, to observe, and to trust that, whatever happens, we will find a way forward.

So yes, I’m content to stick out the obvious downslide of Western civilization. I’m not here to save it, to fix it, or to escape from it. I’m here to live through it, to adapt, and to focus on the things that matter most to me. And in that choice, I find peace.