The match strikes, the candle is lit. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, and take in the moment’s truth: this small yet powerful ritual is unfolding in a million rooms, across a million places, carried out by hands that were made to create and care. A candle signifies hope, intention, and light piercing the dark. Together, with a million other flames, we illuminate a shared purpose—a commitment to being a force for good in difficult times.
I don’t believe that kindness and goodness alone will undo all the damage happening around us. But I do know that practicing these qualities daily allows us to live with some measure of peace in our hearts. In every great story ever told, there’s a period of initiation—a reckoning with the obstacles that block the way. Initiation begins with a call, and right now, we are being called. We’re being asked to traverse the unknown wilderness of this new era, to learn and grow from its challenges, and to dig deep within ourselves to protect the convictions of our hearts. No matter the darkness or its messengers, they cannot take away how we choose to show up in the world.
This morning, I watched clips of the coronation. It was everything I feared, and more. Yet, it wasn’t a shock. He told us what was coming, and half the country bought into the genius of his marketing. They didn’t stop to question that the product rarely matches the promise. Governing, after all, was meant to be an act of service —not a slogan.
As this new reality sets in, we’ll have to take things one day at a time and see how “he who shall not be named,” 2.0 reshapes and affects our lives. In the meantime, like many of my friends, I’m focusing on what I can actually do. For me, it’s a comfort to remember that forces for good persist despite the new administration—and sometimes because of it. There are those who, through law, politics, and persuasion, will work to keep the ship afloat.
We’ve weathered this before. During the Gilded Age, corruption and oligarchical rule reigned for two decades. Some epic journeys are longer than others, but even in the longest, there are ways to carry on—with civility, goodwill, and action. These qualities protect us from the grip of hopelessness and despair, and they protect our best human qualities. Endurance and resilience—grounded in self-care and reflection—can be our starting points.
Simplicity. I create. Joy and satisfaction follow me as I cook in the kitchen. I like feeding people. Curiosity and discovery enliven me. Nature is solace, and sometimes, I build small altars in the garden to uplift my spirit. And if I can help someone or extend kindness to them I am helped too, resulting in loving the life in front of me, regardless of circumstance.
Each morning, when you light a candle, know this: you are never alone. We stand together, practicing the qualities we want to radiate, feeding both our own souls and the souls around us.
One day at a time. One breath of thanks at a time. Light a candle and say a grace.
How are you balancing and acknowledging the grief of political and societal challenges while maintaining a sense of hope and resistance? Please share in the comments and let’s have a conversation.
Thank you for being a part of my world. Onward. ~Stephanie
My candle burns at both ends. I listen and watch, selectively, critically. I read. Books that help me understand where we've been before we got to where we are now, and where we are going if we stay on this road. I encourage others to listen and watch and read. And keep reading. I remind myself of Wendell Berry's Mad Farmer: "Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts."
Thank you, Stephanie, for lighting a candle each day. I am honoring my grief by allowing it and creating a quiet space to feel what I feel, giving it the freedom to move through me rather than locking it inside through resistance. What follows in the quietness of my daily rituals is hope. All around me, both is my local community and the virtual ones, I see remnants of hope being gathered up...bits of petals, tiny seeds, a bit of root. As an herbalist and lover of the wild spaces, I know the healing power inherent in a seed or the tiniest bit of root. I am buoyed by my work, which will continue past my lifetime, but only if I begin it during these dark times. I believe with all my heart, it is the darkness of the womb, rather than the tomb. Each day, my small rituals, the ways I show up to this cup of tea, this salve to be prepared, this seed to be stratified through the frozen times for another season of growth...this is my sacred work. I am so thankful for the many others engaging in their daily, quiet work that seems too simple and subtle to be of significance. And yet the world hinges on this work. Blessed be. 🌿💚