Originally posted to Substack on 1/29/26 for context.
To be honest, I am not sure what to write about this week. I avoided it for a long time. Unsure where to put my words, my fear, my anger, my joy.
And so I will share some random thoughts from this past weekend.
Friday
I saw the venerable monks who are participating in the Walk for Peace from Texas to Washington, DC. They passed the entrance to my neighborhood here in NC, so the whole family went out to join the throngs lining the busy street to watch them pass.
It was beautiful.
A crowd of people went silent. The only sounds were the shuffling of their steps on the asphalt, the slow wisp of the tires of the escorting police cars, a camera shutter or two.
I’d been wondering why their journey had moved me so much to stand out in the cold in the midst of preparing for what promised to be a nasty ice storm coming to our area.
And it was that moment of quiet. The peace in their hearts they are demonstrating for us all. The lessons they want us to hear to cut through the busyness in our minds.
We are a people hungry for peace right now. Bombarded with news, commitments, social media feeds that whizz and bang and activate all those dopamine parts of our brains. Peace feels like a mirage. A myth more than a promise.
My friend was with me and as we turned to go back inside, she said it almost felt anticlimactic. To wait to watch someone walk by. It was over so fast. When we spoke about it again the next day, I shared that I thought that brevity was the point. That the peace we all need doesn’t have to be for an hour or a day or a week.
We can choose it for one moment at a time.
Peace is a choice.
Saturday
I don’t even know what to write about Saturday. Such deep and utter heartbreak. What is happening in Minnesota is both awful and inspiring. ICE and Border Patrol are acting with disregard to laws and human decency. The people of Minnesota, however, are acting with grace, grit, and love.
Alex Petti acted with love when he showed up for his neighbors that day. He acted with love when he put himself in harm’s way to check on a woman who had been pushed. He acted with love as an ICU nurse at the VA hospital.
And now we all grieve the loss of a life filled with love for others.
“What is grief if not love persevering?”
His love lives on in all who mourn this senseless loss. I am devastated for his family. His colleagues. His patients. His friends. His community.
I wonder how can we keep showing up? How can we make a difference in changing what feels like a mountain of chaos and cruelty?
We follow Alex and Minnesota.
We show up with love.
When we call our representatives. When we donate. When we protest. When we write.
Love is a choice.
Sunday
My 50th birthday was Sunday.
Time marches on.
And while I joke about the aches and pains, physical therapy, and perimenopause of it all, I feel empowered.
I am firmly on the other side of that metaphorical hill. I don’t know how many years I will end up with, but I know there are fewer ahead than behind. And the first 50 went by entirely too fast.
I want to spend the next years afforded to me loving my family fiercely, writing, supporting other writers, creating, experimenting, being outside, thinking, engaging, and being present.
I want to spend these years choosing peace. Choosing love. Choosing art.
Living is a choice.
I wondered whether to post this. It’s not my usual content. It’s not a tip or trick of helping a writer make their way through their work.
But it’s what I needed to write.
And what I needed to share.
Peace. Love. Life.
May we have it. May we be it. May we share it.