When the Snow Globe Doesn’t Settle
A different way to meet disruption?
This week, I’ve been getting used to the feeling of disorientation—having the way I think about things, do things, make meaning of things, even feel about things, all stirred up.
Like one of those snow globes when it gets shaken. Everything lifts, swirls, and eventually settles in new and different places. Roles, plans, priorities.
It’s happened before—this kind of snow globe storm. In the past, I would wait for things to settle and then adapt to wherever they landed. But it’s different now in two ways:
- First, the globe keeps shaking—perhaps not as violently, but more quietly, persistently.
- Second, adapting no longer makes sense in a world that keeps shifting.
So where does that leave me?
A friend recently shared a short video from Sharran Srivatsaa, who said, “Life becomes really amazing when you see every single person in your life as someone who was sent to teach you something.”
That resonated—not just about people, but experiences. It’s not always easy, but what changes if we can hold a learning orientation?
Does it help us…
Stay curious?
Suspend judgment?
Be brave?
Practice compassion?
In my professional writing, I’ve been exploring the lives of leaders who faced profound disruption—moments that challenged not just what they did, but who they were. It makes me wonder if what allowed some of them to thrive wasn’t just their ability to adapt, but their capacity to keep learning in the midst of it.
Alexander the Great inherited a kingdom at twenty and immediately faced revolt, instability, and the looming power of the Persian Empire. The world around him was shaking. What made him extraordinary wasn’t just ambition or skill. It was his willingness, at least for a time, to meet the unknown with openness—to reimagine problems others thought impossible.
And yet, over time, even as his empire expanded, he seemed to become more fixed. Surrounded by praise, increasingly certain of his own mythology, he lost that openness. The learning gave way to control.
Maybe the real question isn’t just how we handle disruption—but whether we stay open to being shaped by it. Perhaps that is the invitation—not simply to adapt to where things land, but to stay present in the shaking.
I don’t have this figured out. But I am noticing that when I soften—just a little—into a learning orientation, something shifts. There’s more space. More curiosity. More compassion for myself and others moving through their own storms.
Here’s to the snow globes of our lives—what they unsettle, what they reveal, and the quiet ways they shape us while we’re learning inside them.
