Welcome to Space Oddity.
Making Peace With What Feels Like Woo-Woo & Creating in the Quantum Realm
Hola Niñ@s! I am creating an experiment: a “digital village” for quantum realm navigators in transition. For people learning to trust hunches over spreadsheets, to create without clear blueprints.
A place where inner work meets life experiments. DM me if that sounds like you.
Every day, more people are finding themselves ejected from the predictable world—the world where you could follow a career path, execute proven strategies, and expect certain outcomes. They're landing in what feels like a completely different universe, one where the old rules don't just fail to work—they actively get in the way.
Something is happening that most of us don't have words for yet.
I've been thinking about this as the difference between Newtonian and quantum reality.
“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”
― Douglas Adams
In the Newtonian world, everything follows clear cause and effect.
You can plot trajectories, predict outcomes, follow formulas that worked for others. It's the world of five-year plans and career ladders and "if you do X, you'll get Y." Many people still live there, and that's fine. But more and more of us are being pulled—often dragged—into quantum space.
In quantum reality, you're dealing with probabilities and possibilities that only become real when you observe them, when you make a choice, when you collapse the wave function into something specific.
It's disorienting as hell because everything you learned about how things work suddenly doesn't apply.
The Dissolution Before Emergence
What makes this transition so brutal is that from the outside—and often from the inside—it looks like you're failing.
There's this necessary period where nothing seems to be working. You have a vision, maybe a strong one, but every attempt to translate it into something concrete feels off. It's like having a song in your head that you can't quite capture when you try to play it.
Your rational mind starts its familiar chorus:
"You don't even know what you're trying to create, so how can you possibly succeed?"
"This is too vague, too ambitious, too weird."
"Look at everyone else following proven paths while you're out here improvising."
The scary thing is, your rational mind isn't wrong—you really don't know exactly what you're creating. That's the point.
But here's what I've realized: the uncertainty isn't evidence that you're on the wrong path. It's the medium through which emergence happens. Think about a caterpillar in a chrysalis—from the outside, it just looks like dissolution and chaos.
The caterpillar's entire structure has to break down before something entirely new can form. If you opened the chrysalis during that process, you wouldn't find a half-formed butterfly. You'd find soup.
That's what quantum creation feels like—like being soup for a while, trusting that something is organizing itself even when you can't see or control the process.
Learning a New Kind of Navigation
The hardest part about this transition is that none of your familiar tools work.
Goal-setting, which served you well in the Newtonian world, sometimes becomes not just useless but counterproductive. You can't map territory that doesn't exist yet. You can't plan a route to a destination that's still forming.
You have to learn what I think of as echolocation consciousness—constantly sending signals out into the unknown and listening for what comes back.
It's like searching for extraterrestrial life: you keep transmitting, hoping something will respond. Most of the time, you hear nothing but static. Sometimes you get weird, ambiguous signals that could mean everything or nothing.
This is incredibly frustrating for many smart people.
“A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.”
― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless
We're used to thinking our way through problems, used to analysis and planning being our superpowers.
But in quantum space, thinking alone not only can't get you there, it often keeps you stuck. You end up trying to approach emergence like a chess game when it's more like improvised jazz.
What you need instead are intentions—not goals, but intentions. And keep showing up.
Intentions are like tuning forks. They vibrate at the frequency of what you want to create without needing to specify exactly how it will manifest. They send a signal to the field and remain open to how the field responds.
The Loneliness of the Transition
One of the most isolating aspects of this transition is that most people don't understand what's normal in quantum space.
When they see you in the uncertainty, they think something's wrong. They offer well-meaning advice from the Newtonian playbook: "You need to focus," "Make a business plan," "Set some goals," "Just pick something and stick with it."
But that's like telling someone in a chrysalis to stop dissolving and just be a better caterpillar.
The truth is, many visions die not because they were flawed, but because they were abandoned too early. Right when you're about to break through, right when the field is about to reorganize itself around your intention, the discomfort becomes too much. The scared mind wins, and you retreat to something safer, something more familiar.
This is why finding others who understand these new rules becomes essential—not just for support, but for reality-checking that yes, this is how emergence works. You need witnesses who can see the butterfly forming while you're still experiencing yourself as soup.
The Both/And Universe
What I find fascinating about quantum space is how full of paradoxes it is—paradoxes that would make no sense in Newtonian reality but are perfectly normal here.
You need courage and support.
You must plan and remain completely flexible.
You're creating something specific while staying open to what wants to emerge through you.
The scared mind wants to resolve these paradoxes, to choose one side or the other. But quantum creation requires learning to hold multiple truths simultaneously, to live in what I call the "both/and" universe rather than the "either/or" world.
This includes holding both your vision and your uncertainty, both your ambition and your humility, both your individual creativity and your need for others. It's not comfortable, but it's where the magic happens.
A Different Kind of Success
I used to think my job was to figure everything out alone, create a perfect plan, execute it flawlessly, and present the finished product to the world with a bow on top. I was trying to prove something—to myself and others—about my capability and worth.
But that approach kept me stuck for years because it was based on Newtonian assumptions. It assumed I could control the outcome, that success meant achieving predetermined results, that going it alone was somehow more impressive than collaborating.
What I've learned is that success in quantum space looks completely different.
It's not about achieving what you initially thought you wanted—it's about staying true to your deepest intentions while remaining open to how they want to manifest.
It's about building something that serves something larger than yourself while honoring your authentic nature.
Most importantly, it's about recognizing that by learning to navigate quantum space, you're not just creating your own work—you're pioneering new ways of being that make it easier for others to follow. You're proving that another way is possible.
The Courage to Keep Going
The quantum realm is wild and uncertain and often uncomfortable. It requires a different kind of courage than we're taught to cultivate—not the courage to charge ahead with a clear plan, but the courage to keep going when you can't see the path.
The courage to trust your hunches even when they don't make rational sense.
The courage to let yourself be seen in the messy middle rather than waiting until you have something polished to show.
But here's what I believe: if we do the work and don't quit prematurely, if we learn to navigate by starlight rather than demanding streetlights, if we find each other and create containers for collective emergence—then something extraordinary happens. Not just for us individually, but for the world.
Because what we're really doing is helping birth a new way of creating, a new way of working, a new way of being human in a rapidly changing world. We're the scouts, mapping territories that don't show up on any official maps yet.
It's not easy. But then again, none of us wanted easy. What we wanted was meaningful.
What we wanted was something worth the uncertainty, something worth the dissolution and reformation, something worth the risk of failing spectacularly while attempting to create something that has never existed before.
Welcome to the quantum realm. Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.
The old maps don't work here, but that's exactly the point.
So, as Rainer Maria Rilke said: "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves."
I'm not lost, I'm locationally challenged in a universe that keeps changing its GPS coordinates & I’m building a digital village for people navigating the quantum realm—that space where you're creating something new without a map. Part inner landscape, part experiments, all emergence. DM me if you're one of us.