As war, political upheaval, and extreme weather unfold around the world, I’ve been feeling the immense uncertainty of our times and reflecting on how dramatically life can shift both personally and collectively.
When my wife and I first met, we didn’t plan to have children. We now find ourselves in our 40’s, parenting a toddler and taking the leap to welcome another child into the world this fall. Raising a family brings me such joy and richness, alongside an inseparable, raw vulnerability.
It’s also introduced a new level of chaos into my life, demanding that I let go of control again and again. (I wholeheartedly expect this will only increase with two little ones.) Contemplating the state of our broken world intensifies that sense of disorder and vulnerability.
When the illusion of control evaporates—whether it’s because your toddler just dumped his bowl of oatmeal on the floor, or because the planet appears to be careening off of an existential cliff—our habitual responses tend to be unhelpful.
Millions of years of evolution push or pull us towards aggression, fear, and shock. We may shout and blame, locking arms with whomever we deem to be members of our tribe—politically, racially, nationally, religiously, or otherwise. We may flee, withdraw, or avoid what’s happening, trying to escape the chaos. Or, we freeze. Unable to mount an attack or a defense, we disappear into numbness.
These are not conscious choices, they’re ancient, hard-wired self-protective reactions. If these were our only options, we would be doomed indeed.
The heart knows another way is possible.
When the world comes crashing down around you, when life feels out of control at home or beyond, sanity and clarity arrive not from trying to bring order to the chaos but from sitting down right in the middle of it. Nothing remains still for a moment. Everything changes continually, falling apart, becoming something else.
But right here in the middle of everything there is a still, quiet center that knows. Close your eyes. Breathe. Feel the ground beneath you, the sky above. Sense the tender flutter of life that flows through you this very moment. Recognize the clear, spacious awareness that knows.
We find our way through the chaos not by frantically reacting, but by reestablishing our center in the midst of it. Here, in the still quiet space of the heart, we uncover the space to honor what's true. Then something fresh and unexpected can emerge—an authentic, wise response to life.
So I wonder: when you grow still and quiet, how are you? Can you make space to feel your heart, just as it is? What will you do now? What is yours to do?
The questions reverberate through me.
As we face the tremendous challenges ahead, this is an invitation to slow down, feel what's true inside, and ensure that we've moving forward with a clear mind and a strong heart. From there, we do the best we can with what we have in each moment. And when we falter, we dig deep, finding the courage to start over again and again.