In this world of political violence…
I have worked hard to let go of chasing the places others have ordained for me. More often than not, those places lead me into workaholism, noise, restless ambition, and the endless search for outward approval. And truthfully, I have been down that road more times than I care to admit. I know its glittering promises; I know its emptiness too.
It is usually some loss, some disappointment, some poor decision of my own making that stops me in my tracks—lifting me up by the ankles and giving me a shake. Sometimes it feels humiliating, sometimes heartbreaking. Yet, strangely, it is in those moments of being undone that I remember the contemplative practice of gentleness, which quietly opens a truer, quieter world.
Still, if I’m honest, it isn’t only forgetfulness that draws me away. There is a voice inside—an old piece of software, an unloved part of myself—that keeps insisting I can have both: the outward striving and the inward peace. Out of pride, or perhaps fear of being unseen, I sometimes listen. And again and again, I discover the truth: it doesn’t work. Every time I try, I lose something more precious than success—I lose my own center.
Perhaps you’ve noticed it too: how much of our individual and collective lives seem swept along by currents of noise, distraction, speed, and self-importance—like rounded stones hidden beneath the rush of a mountain stream. I know how easy it is to be carried away. Only when I step away from the incessant pull of social media, only when I soften my anxious need to be productive and admired, do I begin to glimpse what lies beneath. Then, for a moment, the river stills. And in those still moments, I return—however briefly—to something more authentic, more whole.
We will all need more of those moments in the days ahead. In this world of political violence, division, and isolation, what we most need is not more noise, but the courage to breathe slowly before all that frightens us, and to meet it—not with fear or striving—but with gentleness.
