A Heavy World, A Peaceful Heart

The New Year has come, and I wish I could say Happy New Year.

From the outward perspective, the beginning of this year is nothing to celebrate. Our political and social world is bleak and frightening. There is so much pain and suffering for so many people on our planet. I feel it in my heart. I feel it in my head when I watch the news. I see it all around me when I open social media.

The pain I feel is for my fellow humans—especially the children—who suffer daily with fear of the unknown.

And yet, inwardly…

When I sit deep inside myself, I find gratitude for the peaceful place within me, for a safe place to live in the woods and the mountains. I am a white, sixty-six-year-old woman, and I am financially stable. I am not a target in these times—though who knows what the future will bring.

When I reflect on my younger days, I am grateful that I did not have to grow up in these times. I was lucky. I spent my youth meditating with gurus and living in communes, traveling all over the world, and hitchhiking across America with little danger.

I used to protest when I was ten years old, walking at night with my parents to stop the Vietnam War. What I remember most was the wet candle wax dripping down over my hand—warm, gooey heat—warming my fingers in the cold evening air. I remember the connection, the care of all the protesters around me, and especially the silence.

When I was only nineteen years old, I took a bus from Ohio (my college state) to Washington, D.C., in July of 1978 to protest in support of the Equal Rights Amendment. One hundred thousand protesters showed up—including my mom (unbeknownst to me).

As I was finding a seat on the bus to leave, I looked out the window and saw my mother standing there. Screaming and hollering, we pounced on each other, hugging so hard we fell to the ground, only to continue smothering one another with kisses and laughter.

Those days, we made a difference. And our actions today still do.

I feel deeply for my twenty-three-year-old daughter, who must face her adult life amid all of this. I feel her fear, her pain, and the uncertainty so many are carrying.

When I feel that pain, I often place my hand on my heart so that I do not become numb to what is happening inside myself—because, honestly, it’s easy to become unconscious.

I also place my hand on my heart first thing in the morning and feel inside my body to tune in to my Soul. I say:

“Hello, precious Soul. I’m checking in and taking a pulse. How are you doing? I am here and listening in this moment, because this moment is what is real. I see you and I am here for you—always and forevermore.”

Then I become silent, tuning in and praying for all sentient beings around the world. I pray that I can find peace each day within myself.

This practice helps me begin my day slowly, intentionally, and deliberately, not allowing others’ fears, thoughts, or the world’s noise to enter my consciousness until I am ready.

Now that I am older, I understand that everything happening around me is a lesson.

Everything.

Yes, I can protest at the No Kings March.
Yes, I can vote and stay informed about what is happening around me.

But most of all, I make a difference when I sit inside myself and find the peace that resides in every one of us.

I refuse to jump onto the spinning fan of fear and help create a world without trust, prayer, and inward love.

Each of us affects one another with kind words, kind gestures, and connection.

Please don’t forget: you make a difference.