500-Words Why “Fixed” Is a Lie and “Realigned” Is the Win

Twenty-four hours. Zero seconds either way—nothing is fixed. Fixed.

Imagine you’re in a big store, searching for something important: the right aisle for medicine, tools, or just the exit after a long shift. You wander, frustrated, shelves blurring. Then you stop and ask someone: “Hey, where’s this?” They point, explain, maybe even walk you partway. You get there. Not because the store changed, not because the item moved magically—but because you got realigned.

That’s life.

We chase “fixed” like it’s a destination: one more therapy session, one perfect relationship, one big win at work, one apology that erases the past. We think if we just solve this one thing—debt, anger, loneliness, the mess in our head—everything snaps into place forever. Fixed. Done. No more searching.

But life doesn’t work that way. The belt keeps moving. Packages arrive, some heavy, some fragile. The red light flickers, cars cut in, weather turns. Twenty-four hours later, the same problems can creep back, or new ones show up. Zero seconds of “fixed” last forever.

What we can hope for—what anyone can actually achieve—is realignment.

Realignment is humble. It admits: I got off track. I need direction. Asking for guidance isn’t weakness; it’s smart. It’s stopping the aimless wandering and saying, “Show me the way again.” A friend, a book, a quiet moment of prayer, a hard conversation, a walk in the cold Saint Paul air — any of these can be the hand that points.

Realignment doesn’t promise perfection. It promises progress. You step back on the path, shoulders a little lighter, eyes clearer. You keep walking. Tomorrow the path might bend again, and you’ll ask again. That’s not failure; that’s living.

Fixed is another world. Heaven can wait.

Here on earth, in this messy, beautiful, predictably chaotic place, we get realignment. One day at a time. One question asked. One direction followed.

And that’s enough.

Because the store never stops being a store. The belt never stops rolling. But we can keep finding our way—grateful, not perfect.

So tomorrow, when the alarm goes off and the day feels off-kilter again, don’t chase “fixed.” Just ask: Where do I go from here?

Then listen.

Then walk.

Realigned. Not fixed.

And that’s the real win.

-The Grateful Immigrant St. Paul, Minnesota

January 31, 2026

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The 3 Pillars – Everyday Tools to Build and Protect

(Post 6 Order in the Mess Series)

Assortments Need Protection

The Founding gave us a framework that works with nature’s patterns. But frameworks don’t protect themselves. Regular people do—through simple, consistent habits. I call them the 3 Pillars. No fancy philosophy—just practical ways to live grateful in the mess.

Pillar 1: Accountability to the Structure Hold the line on the basics. The rules—laws, contracts, borders, rights—are guardrails. They aren’t perfect because people aren’t perfect, but they keep chaos from swallowing everything. Respect them, demand everyone plays by the same ones, fix them when broken. Everyday version: Pay your bills, keep your word, call out hypocrisy in leaders and neighbors. Hard work, but it preserves the freedom to build.

Pillar 2: Assimilation to Individual Culture Own your place in the story. This country runs on self-reliance, personal responsibility, and choosing to add value. It’s not erasing who you are—it’s adding your effort to what works. Speak the language, learn the history, contribute more than you take. Everyday version: Show up to work, raise your kids to do right, help your community without waiting for handouts. Assimilation is earning your spot through work—no shortcuts, no endless grievance.

Pillar 3: Allegiance to Protect It Good things don’t last on their own. When guardrails get kicked, speak up. Vote, talk straight, support people who fix problems. Not blind loyalty—just clear-eyed defense of what lets regular people build lives. Everyday version: Teach your kids why this place is different. Get involved locally. Push back when the loudest voices try to rewrite the rules for their gain.

These pillars aren’t new—they’re how families, tribes, and good societies have survived forever. They work with nature’s grain: autonomy first, chosen bonds, limits that make it last. Hard work? Yes. But meaningful things always are.

Next: Putting it all together in a simple table.

One habit at a time.

—The Grateful Immigrant Saint Paul, Minnesota

January 25, 2026

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