A Journey Back to Hope: Embracing Resilience When the World Feels Loud and Unkind

I’ve been leaning into small, practical tasks lately—rearranging my sleeping space, reconfiguring my workspace, making flight reservations for an upcoming retreat, paying bills, ticking off to-do list items—as if they were anchors in a sea of uncertainty. It feels good to accomplish these things, even if they’re not connected to my bigger dreams (whatever those might be at this point). I’m finding that I’m more present and more intentional. I am still maintaining the boundaries I need around media and news. And yet, under the surface, there’s a heaviness I can’t quite shake.

Yesterday, while running a mundane errand, I missed a turn into the parking lot. No big deal, I thought. I’ll simply turn around, come back and try again. But the driver behind me clearly didn’t see it that way. He laid on his horn—blaring, unrelenting, like a siren wailing through my entire body, and through all three lanes of traffic. Before I knew it, as the horn continued to blare incessantly, I was fuming with frustration and yelling expletives in anger. I found myself slowing down on purpose, perhaps to give him something to really honk about. Passive-aggressive, perhaps. Of course, I came up with a whole story about who this man was, what his entitled life was like and even who he voted for. 

The experience stayed with me for hours. It’s unlike me to hold on to something like that for so long. I have learned lots of tools over the years and I use them. Usually, a few deep breaths and a moment of gratitude are enough to help me reset. When another person is involved, I find some peace in simply wondering where the person who is offending me is coming from. What happened to them that made them behave the way they did towards me? And then I send them good vibes and I'm done with it. But not this time. I simply couldn’t get there and the feelings lingered for hours.

I realized it wasn’t just about the honking driver. It was about everything I’ve been holding inside—the disillusionment I feel watching the political landscape unfold, the grief of transitions in my own life, the exhaustion of carrying so many unknowns. It’s like the noise of the world is louder than ever, and I’m struggling to find my quiet center.

And yet, this is resilience, isn’t it? It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s not always graceful or tidy. But it’s showing up anyway. Resilience is the ability to adapt and recover in the face of adversity, challenges, or significant stress. It is allowing ourselves to feel the anger, the grief, the uncertainty without judgment. It is not about avoiding difficulties or always being strong; rather, it’s about how we respond to those difficulties. It’s holding the space for both the small victories and the unresolved emotions. It’s the practice of returning to the present moment, again and again, even when it’s hard. Resilience involves the capacity to "bounce back," but it’s more nuanced than just pushing through. It’s about:

• Flexibility: Adapting to change rather than breaking under pressure.
• Emotional Awareness: Recognizing and acknowledging your feelings without being overwhelmed by them.
• Inner Strength: Drawing on a well of personal values, past experiences, and learned coping strategies to navigate tough times.

Today, I’m giving myself permission to be with it all. To breathe through the discomfort, to accept that I’m still figuring out what my bigger goals are, and to remember that I am resilient and this is all part of the journey back to hope. And yes, even to use an expletive or two or five every once in awhile!

Reflection Questions:

1. What small tasks have you accomplished recently that gave you a sense of control or grounding, even if they seemed minor?
2. What emotions have been most present for you lately?
3. What does resilience look like for you today?

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