When Everything Dissolves

Have you ever experienced a time in your life when everything you thought you knew fell apart? When the world seemed to dissolve around you and you were left questioning who you were and what you believed? And despite your reality dissolving, you were still standing afterward, ok, and even stronger and wiser?

These moments of deconstruction and dissolution can be terrifying and disorienting but often clear the path for growth and transformation.

I experienced this when I got sober eight years ago. As I slowly descended into that dark church basement for my first AA meeting, I was lonely, scared, and depressed. I instinctively knew the life I constructed for myself was no longer working and I had to say goodbye to ingrained habits, old patterns, false stories, inadequate coping mechanisms, and unsupportive relationships. The only way out was to admit my problem, take my life down to its studs and start building something new even if it meant I would have to suffer and face uncertainty. Once I committed to a life of sobriety, many aspects of my reality dissolved, including my identity—who I thought I was and could be.

I was reminded of this process last week while listening to This Jungian Life, a podcast where three Jungian analysts talk about life, dreams, and how we grow.

In the episode, one of the hosts, Joseph R. Lee, used a phrase I had never heard before:

“To see the suffering process as meaningful and transformative, it goes to that alchemic phrase Solve et Coagula over and over again. The change process requires a dissolution and a coming back together, ideally in a higher arc. This process when we are young can feel really exciting. We dissolve when we fall in love. We dissolve when we smoke weed. We dissolve when we get drunk. We dissolve into some kind of a community in college. The letting go can feel euphoric. As our egos become increasingly more defined, the idea of being dissolved is a little bit more horrific and more frightening.”

Solve et Coagula. What Joseph shared immediately resonated. The feeling he described was familiar from when I got sober, and from when I left investing to become a coach and writer. Later that night, I went down a rabbit hole to understand the origins of the term and how it relates to change.

I found my favorite definition in Cut Me Up, a “participatory magazine of visual call and response.” In Issue 7, artist and educator Enrique “Kike” Congrains writes:

“Solve Et Coagula is a maxim or motto of alchemy which means ‘dissolve and coagulate.’ It means that something must be broken down before it can be built up. Solve refers to the breaking down of elements and coagula refers to their coming together.”

In alchemy, Solve et Coagula refers to the process of breaking down and rebuilding substances to create something new. The phrase has also been adopted by some modern occultists and practitioners of magic, who use it to represent the process of breaking down old patterns and beliefs and then reforming them into something new and better. They see it as a way to transform oneself and achieve personal growth. At its core, Solve Et Coagula represents transformation and growth through the process of breaking down and rebuilding.

It even turns out that J.K. Rowing of Harry Potter fame has the motto tattooed on the inside of her wrist.

The idea of breaking down and dissolving reminds me of what takes place in the “ending phase” in the “Bridges Transition Model” developed by the late author and professor William Bridges. He and many others, such as Arnold van Gennep, have suggested that we must say goodbye before we can embrace what’s to come.

In Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes, Bridges writes:

“Endings must be dealt with if we are to move on to whatever comes next in our lives. The new growth cannot take root on ground still covered with old habits, attitudes and outlooks because endings are the clearing process.”

Throughout human history, traditional and indigenous cultures have used rites of passage to catalyze important transitions. During the 'separation' phase of these ceremonies, the young and uninitiated are abruptly removed from their familiar environment and place in their community. This may involve physical or emotional isolation from others, or it may involve symbolic actions like cutting off hair, knocking out a tooth, creating a wound, or removing clothing. This separation is followed by a symbolic death, during which the individual's sense of self is dismantled and reformed into a new identity. At this point, the clearing process has begun and the liminal space between the old and the new has emerged.

As I thought more about Bridges' work, I saw how it directly relates to the idea of Solve Et Coagula, especially the process of dissolving. He identifies five features of the "natural ending" experience that are essential for dissolving identity and reality in order to make way for the new: disengagement, dismantling, disidentification, disenchantment, and disorientation.

When we disengage, we remove ourselves from the old environment to prevent triggers and messages from reaching us and influencing our behavior. When we dismantle, we release old structures, habits, and beliefs that no longer serve who we are becoming. When we disidentify, we let go of attachments to our old identities and labels, which allows us to see ourselves in a more objective and authentic way. When we become disenchanted, we start to question and see through the old stories we have been telling ourselves and believing. All of these eventually lead to feelings of disorientation—being lost.

Let’s be honest. Our culture has conditioned us to avoid endings and dissolution. We’d rather pretend that things will persist forever, or dissociate from the present. We refuse to acknowledge and turn away from difficult conversations about death, divorce, sickness, quitting, or failure. We’d rather spend our passing time thinking about good times and what’s possible. When we do this over and over again, we miss an opportunity to honor and embrace the natural process of deconstruction and renewal that is at work in our lives.

Here’s the reality—everything is dissolving all the time. We see it in the animal kingdom when a caterpillar dissolves into a pupa and then emerges as a vibrant butterfly. We see it in botany when plants use sunlight to break down carbon dioxide and water and reconfigure them into oxygen. We see it in cities when old buildings are reduced to rubble and new structures take their place, extending into the sky and reshaping the face of a neighborhood. And we see it in our lives as we abandon old habits and identities in favor of new ones that align with who we are and what matters to us. It is everywhere.

Despite the natural process of Solve et Coagula that occurs in reality, our egos and identities often cling to the illusion of stability and permanence. This attachment to the familiar can provide a sense of comfort and security, as it allows us to feel in control of our lives and avoid the fear of the unknown. However, there’s a cost to this attachment—it keeps us stuck and holds us back from pursuing what we really want. We may resist starting something new, taking a leap, or making a significant change, out of fear that our safety and security are at risk. Our egos and identities hold on tightly to what is known, even if it no longer serves us, and prevents us from fully embracing potentials and possibilities.

By recognizing and appreciating the impermanence of all things, we can loosen our attachment to old identities and beliefs, and open ourselves up to new possibilities. This can be a challenging and gut-wrenching process, as it requires us to confront our fears and insecurities, but it can also be a deeply rewarding one, as we discover new aspects of ourselves.

When we realize that everything and everyone goes through this process, it’s not so scary. This is a natural process and cycle that’s embedded in the universe. We’re far more capable of being with this reality than we think. It’s in our very nature to navigate dissolution—or as the German poet Holdërlin put it, we are always “becoming in dissolution.”