Storm-born Guardians of the Soul

too many mornings
tangled in numb blankets
grappling with the onslaught
of news and fear—
a relentless spool
stretching tight across the horizon.
who can hold it all?

some days, i consider the numbness:
a bag of gummies,
a long lie-down,
let it all pass, only wake when it’s over.
what does “over” even look like?

crisis brings irrevocable change.
stay awake.
resist the pull of despair.
build resilience
in our own imperfect ways—
it takes all of us.
and it’s exhausting
but we rise, storm-born guardians of the soul

In the beginning, which was really just ninety-some days ago, many of us said we’d turn off the news or at least monitor how much we watched, limiting our exposure to dread. But that doesn’t work, because there is no escaping the fact that we are living in a constitutional crisis. History has unrolled beneath our feet, and we are walking it.

Some days I cry about every little thing. Not ugly cry, more like weeping. A soul rain, releasing anger, fear, and grief for my country. Other days, I catch a flicker of hope inspiring me to recommit myself to creativity and kindness and let those be radical acts of resistance.

When I feel threadbare, I walk. I make play-dates for my dog, whose antics with the puppy across the street make me laugh. I write. Make poems and essays. Scribble journal entries. Eat chocolate with my girlfriend Elisa and savor every mouthful. Watch clouds move across the sky. I sit close to my husband and we hold hands.

March. Write a letter. Make a call. Use your voice and “take heart.” Protests are finding footing. Ordinary people can tip economic scales and power hungry tyrants can falter. And the orange monster begins to choke on his own bluster while trying to pretend he’s just clearing his throat. Something has shifted. The fatigue hasn’t vanished, but determination is taking root.

There will be mornings of tears and nights of exhaustion. Moments of numbness and fear. And there will still be places to walk and things that compel smiles and laughter. Books to be read, journals to be written, paintings to take form, and music to be made. And always there will be someone who needs your help – giving and gratitude are the path to healing. Why wait?

Dear and precious reader. Today I hold my words close, listening for my better angels. They remind me the fight is less about the Power Gluttons at the gate — the fight is for justice, goodness, gratitude, giving – the soul of humanity. We must take care.

Bless my fellow creators,

Kert Lenseigne 🌱

and

JULIA HUBBEL

. I love and appreciate you. By sharing your strength, struggles and convictions, you give me hope. You never know which words will find a heart. Yours found mine.

Do you let yourself cry?

Does it free something inside you?

What carries you through the day?

Where do you find pockets of grace?

Please share your stories, and let’s have a conversation.