If you’re feeling out of breath just keeping up, you’re not imagining things. AI is moving not in steps but quantum leaps, warping the ground beneath every plan and prediction. The old tricks, fortune-telling about careers or calibrating for the next hype cycle, they feel like chasing last week’s weather report on a tornado. Most people react by turning up the “productivity” dial, booting up newsfeeds, trying to outpace the data. It’s not working. The future keeps folding in on itself, too quick for playbooks.
Maybe the problem isn’t your pace. Maybe the problem is the map. We’re using century-old compasses to navigate a landscape that no longer obeys Euclidean geometry. This isn’t just faster change, it’s a new animal. Maybe what we need isn’t more information, but a deeper form of orientation.
The world’s getting weirder, fine. But what if that’s not a glitch?
Novelty, The Singularity, and the Prophecy of Weirdness
Terrence McKenna was onto something most futurists missed. He saw time as an engine, not a conveyor belt. In his novelty theory, history doesn’t just plod forward, it accelerates toward violins of complexity, with each moment birthing more “newness” than the one before. Some people call this the “singularity.” McKenna called it the eschaton: the attractor at the end of time, pulling us toward a crescendo of transformation. The future, in his model, isn’t something flat barreling toward us from behind, it’s a gravitational point ahead, yanking civilization into a new state.
But let’s be clear: “novelty” isn’t just noise or chaos. It’s not endless memes clogging your feed, or another viral “pivot.” Novelty is the real shake: the new, the strange, the irreversible. It’s the language that turned DNA into humans, and now, humans into something else.
McKenna once imagined a future full of “language machines,” AI symbiotes that amplify and mutate human consciousness see his short on “things are going to get weirder, faster”. Here we are: language models pour out stories, advice, even fragments of wisdom—sometimes more coherent than the last pundit you heard on TV. In his last interview, McKenna saw AI as a wave that might dissolve the boundaries of the human itself. The prophecy lands: the weirdness isn’t coming—it’s here, and quicker than anyone expected.
Letting Go of Prediction, Riding the Myth
So maybe it’s time to retire the forecaster’s hat. Prediction is useless during a phase shift. When the floor turns to water, your analytical models just float away. All culture that matters—art, religion, myth—was built not to explain the wave, but to help humans ride it.
This is where myth comes in: not as fairy tale, but as a toolkit. You want a map? Myth is the inner GPS for when logic fails. The Hero’s Journey—archetypal, ancient, redundant in its cycles—was never about “winning.” It’s about surviving the crossing, intact and transformed. When your context collapses, the story of the crossing is the only guide that works.
The Hero Is Ahead of You
Which brings us to the most radical idea of all: the hero isn’t behind you. The hero is ahead of you. The hero doesn’t represent your past accolades or your Instagram bio. It’s your future self—the one who survives the riptide—calling you over the chasm. The “eschaton” is personal. It’s the attractor pulling you forward, forcing you to shed the stories that don’t fit, the masks that don’t serve.
So where’s your guidance system? There’s no blueprint. But there is a way to see your reflection in the myth: Lifemap is a guided profile designed to put you—not your resume, not your goals—in the center of your own unfolding legend. This isn’t about replicating old heroics. It’s about facing the horizon, allowing the emerging you to take the lead. The hero is not to be idolized; it’s to be embodied, right now, on shifting ground.
You’re not supposed to “figure it out.” Analysis is paralysis in a world where novelty outpaces every spreadsheet. Only your own honest attention, your lived myth, will orient you. Get mythically literate, yes—but get internally honest. Adaptability is a muscle of the soul, not a feature update. The only reliable map left is the one inside you: the voice that senses what the future hero is already whispering.
If your future self—the hero at your personal eschaton—could send you a message right now, what would it say?
