A Lantern in Heavy Times

Lately, it feels like everything is arriving at once.

Personal heartbreak. Shocking news close to home. Communities struggling and arguing over resources children desperately need. Violence in the world. And revelations that have shaken many people who once felt grounded in certain leaders, institutions, or traditions.

I want to say this clearly and without hesitation: I unequivocally stand against exploitation and violence toward women, in any form.

Learning new information, especially when it involves people, teachings, or spaces that once shaped your inner world, can feel stunning, disorienting, and heartbreaking. Grief, anger, confusion, and disappointment can all exist at the same time. I am holding all of that, too.

Alongside those truths, I am sitting with another one.

I am refusing to let darkness steal my capacity to parent, teach, love, and lead.

In my own life, I live inside a small ecosystem: my home, my children, my community, my body, my breath. I am raising three sons in a world that is both breathtakingly beautiful and deeply broken. That responsibility feels especially present in moments like these.

Tending my small ecosystem is not avoidance.

It is responsibility.

If I allow the weight of the world to disconnect me from my body, my values, and my presence, then I am no longer able to guide what has been entrusted to me. Staying regulated, grounded, and awake is not disengagement, it is how I remain capable of showing up with integrity.

I know I am not alone in this. I see parents still parenting, teachers still teaching, coaches still coaching, neighbors still helping neighbors. People are volunteering, grieving, voting, loving, and trying again the next day. These quiet acts rarely make headlines, but they are the scaffolding holding the world together.

I also feel deep gratitude for the many teachers, mentors, and fellow practitioners who live with sincerity and care. For the people I have met within wellness spaces and far beyond them, who are thoughtful, ethical, and committed to doing good work. That goodness is real, too.

One of my teachers once spoke about practicing in a way that brings lightness into each cell of the body; through movement, breath, and meditation. I return to that often. Not to escape the world, but to stay connected enough to meet it without hardening.

When I am grounded, I parent differently.

When I am present, I listen more deeply.

When I am steady, I can hold complexity without collapsing.

There is a line I return to again and again:

“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” - Rumi

Not because wounds are beautiful, but because they ask something honest of us. They ask us to choose how we respond.

So I keep practicing.

I keep breathing.

I keep moving my body.

I keep tending my small corner of the world.

I am one small lantern in a vast, dark sea, but I know I am not the only one. And that knowledge gives me hope.

I will keep showing up for my family, my students, and my community with clarity and care. I know many of you are doing the same, and that matters more than we sometimes realize.