The Freedom of Not Needing to Be Shocked

What happens when you stop clinging to one truth, and start living in curiosity.

The other night I was watching a show, not thinking about anything deep, when a random thought popped in — as they do for me.

I realized I’m rarely shocked anymore.

Not because I’ve become numb, and not because I “know it all” (I don’t think that’s possible).

It’s because I’ve stopped needing the world to stay the same.

I’ve never been one to attach myself to one religion, one political party, or one person as the “final word.” Even as a kid, I didn’t believe we needed a middleman to know how to govern ourselves or to reach God. And yet . . . look at where we are as a society. We’ve built whole systems on the belief that we do need one.

For a while, I thought maybe my refusal to land in the “middle” — the place where most people meet and connect — made me less relevant. Like I was drifting on the edges, out of sight, even when I had something worth saying.

I’ve gone through my own phases. Raw food only. One certain book or teacher I swore had all the answers. I’d commit for a while . . . and then something in me would shift. I’d move on. Not because I’d lost faith — but because my curiosity is bigger than any one container.

Astrologically, this is pure Sagittarius rising — my chart starts at zero degrees, right at the “first light” of the sign. My nature is to seek, but not to cling. To learn, but not to worship the source. To explore far enough that no one ideology feels like home for long.

Right now, something in the sky is amplifying this. Uranus — the planet of change, awakening, and shock — just entered Gemini, exactly across from my Ascendant. That means the energy of disruption is moving through the part of my chart that represents other people.

And here’s what I’m noticing:

While the collective reacts to every new viral idea like it’s the second coming or the end of the world . . . I feel steady. Curious, yes. Interested, always. But not rocked.

I don’t need to cling to any one theory because I know life will keep unfolding in ways I can’t predict. My adaptability is my anchor.

But here’s the thing — that adaptability can make you invisible. In a world addicted to extremes, nuance doesn’t trend. Quiet resilience doesn’t go viral. And yet, I believe it’s exactly what will be needed as the next waves of collective disillusionment roll in.

Over the next couple of years, Uranus will move through the part of my chart that deals with partnerships, collaborations, and my mirror to the world. I suspect I’ll have moments when my way of seeing things suddenly clicks for people who never noticed me before. Maybe they’ll have just been shaken by a belief collapse. Maybe they’ll be tired of the noise.

Until then, I’ll keep standing where I stand — not in the middle, not in the extremes, but in that strange open space where curiosity feels like freedom.

And if you’re reading this and you feel the same . . . maybe that’s where we’ll meet.

From one healing soul to another,

Karen Di Gloria 🌿

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