Is This the End of the America We Once Knew?

“When the myths fall and the masks crack, we are left with the truth—and the trembling possibility that we could build something beautiful from the rubble. Not a return, but a rebirth.” - Mary Coughlin

There are moments in history when a nation holds its breath. When silence thickens with grief, rage, and disbelief. When the stories we were taught to believe—about freedom, fairness, justice—crack open under the weight of truth.

We are living in such a moment now.

With rising fears of authoritarianism, economic manipulation, and the deliberate erosion of democratic norms, many are asking, “Is this the end of the America we once knew?”

The answer is layered. And complicated. And deeply personal.
It’s also profoundly spiritual.

What’s ending?

The America we once knew—or thought we knew—was always a paradox.
It was aspiration and oppression. Idealism and injustice.
It was the myth of liberty standing alongside the reality of colonization, slavery, exclusion, and harm.

But for many—especially those who benefited from systems designed to favor them—there was a sense of safety. Stability. Order.

That illusion is gone.

We’re witnessing:

• The erosion of truth in public discourse

• The weaponization of power for personal gain

• The rising boldness of those who see democracy as an inconvenience

And so, yes—something is ending.
The veneer. The comfort. The belief that “it could never happen here.”

What remains?

What remains is fragile, but still alive:

• The soul of democracy: bruised, but breathing.

• The will of the people: messy, fierce, resilient.

• The hunger for justice: rising from the ground like dandelions through concrete.

In the midst of despair, we also see resistance—brilliant, creative, embodied.
We see artists, activists, educators, and everyday people choosing to tell the truth, hold the line, and build something new.

We are the ones holding both the grief and the possibility.

What could be beginning?

This could be the beginning of a more honest America.
Not perfect. Not polished. But possible.

• An America that owns its wounds.

• That reclaims democracy not as a brand but as a practice of care.

• That centers justice not as an afterthought, but as the heartbeat of every policy, every system, every interaction.

This will not come from the top down. It will be woven by us.
Ordinary people. Educators. Nurses. Parents. Artists. Neighbors. Weavers.

If this is the end of America as we once knew it, let it be the beginning of the America we have yet to imagine—but have always longed for.

Reflection Prompt

Where in my own life or community do I see endings that might be openings in disguise?
What stories am I ready to release—and what future am I ready to help weave?

Closing Blessing

May we grieve honestly.
May we resist fiercely.
May we imagine wildly.
May we build the world our ancestors dreamed—and our descendants deserve.

"Endings"
by Mary Coughlin

When the myths fall
and the masks crack,
we are left with the truth—
and the trembling possibility
that we could build
something beautiful
from the rubble.

Not a return,
but a rebirth.
Not a flag,
but a flame.
Not a promise,
but a practice.

Let it be
the end of the lie.
Let it be
the beginning of us.

With fierce love and trembling hope,
Mary

P.S.: If your heart is breaking, it means it’s still beating.
And if it’s still beating, then you, my friend, are part of the healing.
Let’s reimagine the world—together.