Authoritarianism Thrives on Brittle Spirits: the Profitable Manufacture of Fear

The Profitable Manufacture of Fear: And the Critical Work of Spirit Tending

Why are we seeing a rise of fascism and authoritarianism across the world, especially in the United States? It's tempting to point to a single cause, but the truth is more complex. Economic inequality and dislocation, cultural backlash, disinformation, and climate instability all converge into one central outcome: fear.

Some fear is reasonable, especially for those most marginalized, who live under real and immediate threat. But much fear is deliberately engineered. Fear is profitable. It is used to divide communities, undermine solidarity, and keep people vulnerable to manipulation.

In this context, spiritual tending is not a luxury. It is critical. Because authoritarianism thrives on brittle spirits, while thriving communities are rooted, resilient, and alive.

The Roots of Rising Fascism

First, we name what is. Getting real is essential to re-membering our wholeness. Fascism is now, and has in the past, arisen in particular contexts.

Economic Dislocation and Inequality. Generations of wage stagnation and wealth concentration leave many people feeling powerless and disposable.

Social and Cultural Backlash. Expanding rights for women, queer and trans folks, Black and Brown communities, and migrants generates reactionary resistance from those invested in dominance.

Psychological and Tribal Dynamics. Fear easily flips into scapegoating; humans are wired to seek safety in "us vs. them" categories.

Environmental and Existential Stressors. Climate disruption and ecological collapse create widespread anxiety, uncertainty, and scarcity.

Disinformation and Media Ecosystems. News silos and manipulative platforms amplify outrage, fear, and conspiracy thinking.

Historical Patterns. Authoritarian movements often arise in periods of upheaval—what we are seeing is tragically familiar.

Together, these dynamics converge into a cycle of fear + inequality, weaponized by those who profit from division.

Water drop over parched land, Photo by Stockcake

The Engineered Fear Model

Engineered fear follows a predictable pattern:

Isolate people → from each other, from community trust, from nature, from their own sense of agency.

Flood them with crisis → so they feel powerless and dependent on "strong" leaders or controlling systems.

Break trust in the sacred → whether that's God, gods, the web of life, or inner wisdom. A person who knows they are whole and connected is much harder to control.

This model isn't abstract. It plays out in the profiteering we saw during COVID-19, in how media cycles keep us in crisis mode, and in political projects that thrive on keeping communities fragmented and afraid.

Discernment, Not Denial: The Role of Healthy Fear

Authentic spiritual practice doesn't bypass real dangers or systemic harm—it strengthens our ability to distinguish between manufactured panic and genuine threats that require action. When we're grounded in our values and connected to community, we can respond to climate crisis, political violence, or personal safety concerns from a place of clarity rather than reactivity.

This isn't spiritual bypassing. This is spiritual preparation for sustained, effective engagement with difficult realities. The goal isn't to eliminate fear. The goal is to cultivate the discernment that allows us to act from wisdom rather than being paralyzed by overwhelm or manipulated by those who profit from our terror.

Fear becomes healthy when it connects us to what we love and moves us toward protection and care: for ourselves, our communities, and the living world. It becomes toxic when it isolates us, makes us smaller, or hands our agency over to systems that don't serve life.

Pride Parade, Rawpixel CC0

A Counter-Practice of Spirit Tending

The work of spiritual direction and tending offers a radical, necessary counter-practice:

Reweaving Connection

Creating safe, intentional spaces where people explore meaning, belonging, and sacredness on their own terms. But this isn't just individual work. The work is about building networks of mutual care that are harder to divide and exploit. When people know they belong to something larger than themselves, they're less vulnerable to the false promises of authoritarian movements.

Restoring Agency

Helping seekers trust their own discernment, values, and choices instead of outsourcing them to fear-based systems. This includes strengthening our capacity to regulate our nervous systems under stress: work I explore more deeply in other posts about embodiment and trauma-informed spirituality. When we can stay present in our bodies even during difficulty, we make decisions from clarity rather than panic.

Cultivating Resilience

Equipping people with inner resources so that even in crisis, they respond from compassion and wisdom instead of reactivity. This resilience isn't built in isolation—it emerges from relationships. We need communities that practice together, share resources, and commit to each other's well-being across difference.

Lessons from History: When Spirit Tending Resisted Tyranny

Throughout history, spiritual communities rooted in authentic practice have provided crucial resistance to authoritarian movements.

During World War II, Quaker communities across Europe created underground networks that saved thousands of Jewish lives. Their commitment to "that of God in everyone" wasn't abstract theology—it translated into concrete action. They opened their homes, forged documents, and risked their lives because their spiritual practice had cultivated an unshakeable commitment to human dignity. Crucially, their decentralized structure made them harder for Nazi authorities to infiltrate or destroy.

Buddhist communities in Tibet and Burma have sustained resistance to occupation and military rule through practices that maintain inner freedom even under extreme oppression. Their emphasis on interconnection and compassion provided alternatives to the us-versus-them thinking that authoritarian systems depend on.

Indigenous land defenders across the Americas draw strength from spiritual connections to place that colonizers cannot fully comprehend or co-opt. At Standing Rock and countless other sites, ceremony and prayer become acts of resistance because they affirm relationships that capitalism seeks to sever.

Liberation theology movements in Latin America demonstrated how spiritual practice could challenge economic oppression and political violence while maintaining commitment to love and justice.

These examples share common threads: deep rootedness in practice, commitment to community beyond the self, and spiritual foundations that couldn't be shaken by external pressure.

Treeroots, CC0

The Trap of Spiritual Bubbles

But we must also acknowledge how spiritual communities can become complicit in the very dynamics they claim to resist. When spiritual practice becomes about comfort rather than transformation, or when communities become insular echo chambers, they lose their power to challenge systems of oppression.

Social media algorithms can turn spiritual hashtags into just another form of consumption, where profound practices get reduced to performance and spiritual bypassing. Similarly, spiritual communities that focus only on individual enlightenment while ignoring systemic harm can inadvertently serve as what Marx called "the opiate of the masses"—keeping people pacified rather than engaged.

The antidote is spiritual practice that consistently asks: How does this practice serve life? How does it connect me more deeply to the struggles and joys of my neighbors? How does it strengthen my capacity for sustained action on behalf of justice?

Find spiritual mentors, guides, and companions with ethical commitments you know and agree with. Do your individual work with people who practice consent and are willing to acknowledge what is real. 

The Choice Before Us

They win by keeping people spiritually brittle. We heal by becoming spiritually flexible, grounded, and unshakable.

Or in other words:

In an era when fear is deliberately manufactured to keep people small, disconnected, and reactive, my work tends the opposite soil. I accompany people as they deepen trust in their sacred wisdom, reweave bonds of community, and cultivate resilience rooted in what they hold most holy. Authoritarianism thrives on brittle spirits; my calling is to help grow spirits that bend but do not break.

Try It

Notice the places in your life where fear is pressing on you right now. Is it the news? Your community? Family tensions? Ecological uncertainty? Place your hand over your heart and whisper: Fear is not the whole of me.

Ask yourself: Where do I feel most alive, most rooted, most connected? What practice, place, or relationship brings you back to that sense of wholeness? Make time to nourish it this week.

Then ask: How might this groundedness serve not just my own well-being, but my capacity to show up for others? What would it look like to let my spiritual practice fuel sustained engagement rather than retreat from the world's pain?

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy,
Rev. Amy
Companioning soul-weary change-makers becoming rooted, aligned, and alive again.

Fierce Love in Fragmented Times: A Homily for the Bear Goddess Within

Reclaiming spiritual practice as revolutionary resistance

I've been thinking about ancient Bear deities: Ursel, Artio, even the Paleolithic bear worship... Now, at a time when the world seems to demand we choose between being afraid or being naive, the wisdom of the bear offers us a third way: the path of fierce love.

This was first written as a homily, and I offer it to you here for your reflection. Bear deities figure in many indigenous traditions. Ursel is a Slavic goddess of the moon and bears. Kaiti is a bear goddess of the Haida of the Pacific NW of North America. Artio is the mother bear goddess of the Celts and Gauls. Kamuy is a bear figure revered by the Ainu in Japan. They are all revered as guardians, protectors and guides.

The Profitable Manufacture of Fear

Let me name what we're all feeling: we live in a time when fear is deliberately manufactured and sold to us. Economic inequality leaves people feeling powerless. Cultural backlash creates division. Environmental crisis breeds anxiety. And all of this gets amplified by media systems that profit from our terror and outrage.

This isn't accidental. Fear is profitable. It keeps us isolated, reactive, and dependent on systems that promise safety in exchange for our agency. The pattern is predictable: isolate people from community and nature, flood them with crisis so they feel powerless, and break their trust in the sacred—in their own wisdom, in the web of life, in whatever they hold holy.

A person who knows they are whole and connected is much harder to control.

Cave bears loomed large in the Cro-Magnon mind as shown in this Chauvet cave painting. Jean Clottes

When Fear Becomes Toxic

Not all fear is manufactured. Some of our fear is entirely reasonable, especially for those living under real and immediate threat. The question isn't how to eliminate fear, but how to distinguish between the fear that connects us to what we love and the fear that makes us smaller.

Healthy fear moves us toward protection and care. It says: "This matters to me, so I will act." Toxic fear isolates us, hands our power over to others, and convinces us we are helpless.

The bear knows this difference. A mother bear doesn't become fierce out of hatred. She becomes fierce out of love. Her power comes not from anger but from an unshakeable commitment to protecting what is precious.

The Wisdom of the Bear Goddess

In Slavic tradition, Ursel embodies this sacred fierceness that emerges not from aggression but from deep love. She shows us that strength and tenderness are not opposites. They are partners.

The bear hibernates, but she also defends her cubs with everything she has. She nurtures, but she also sets boundaries that cannot be crossed. She knows when to rest and when to act, when to be gentle and when to be formidable.

This is the wisdom we need now: fierce love. Love that has boundaries. Tenderness that will not be diminished. Compassion that refuses to be complicit in systems that harm.

"Bear" carving by Haida artist Bill Reid, Museum of Anthropology, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada, photo by D. Gordon E Robertson CC3.0

Spiritual Practice as Resistance

In times like these, spiritual practice is not a luxury or an escape. It is critical resistance work. Because authoritarianism thrives on brittle spirits, while thriving communities are rooted, resilient, and alive.

When we tend our spirits, we are doing political work. When we stay connected to what makes us feel most alive and grounded, we become harder to manipulate. When we gather in circles, sharing our questions and our wisdom, we are reweaving the social fabric that fear tries to tear apart.

History shows us this truth. During World War II, Quaker communities saved thousands of Jewish lives not because they were warriors, but because their spiritual practice had cultivated an unshakeable commitment to human dignity. Buddhist communities have sustained resistance to oppression through practices that maintain inner freedom even under external control. Indigenous land defenders draw strength from spiritual connections that colonizers cannot understand or co-opt.

These communities shared common threads: deep-rootedness in practice, commitment to something beyond the individual self, and spiritual foundations that couldn't be shaken by external pressure.

The Choice Before Us

So here's the choice before us: they win by keeping us spiritually brittle. We heal by becoming spiritually flexible, grounded, and unshakeable.

Choosing to read this and consider something new is already an act of resistance. Every time you choose to gather with others around questions of meaning rather than consumption, you are choosing connection over isolation. Every time you trust your own inner wisdom rather than outsourcing your decisions to fear-based systems, you are reclaiming your agency.

Every time you respond to the world's pain with fierce love rather than reactive fear, you are channeling the Bear Goddess.

Witch/Bear who lives on my shelf in my office

Living the Questions

I offer to you questions to sit with. I invite you to hold these questions not as problems to solve but as invitations to deepen:

How do you view fear? Can you feel the difference between the fear that makes you smaller and the fear that emerges from love?

Have you ever found a gift in fear? Perhaps it connected you to what you value most, or moved you to protect something precious, or showed you your own strength.

How do you summon your inner bear when you need courage? What helps you remember that you are both tender and fierce, both vulnerable and powerful?

The Work That Is Ours

We are living through a time that historians will study. Future generations will ask: What did they do when democracy was fragile? When the climate was changing? When fear was being weaponized?

I believe they will say: Some people chose to tend their spirits and each other's. Some people remembered that they were whole, holy, and connected. Some people practiced fierce love.

Some people gathered under the moon and around kitchen tables and in virtual circles, refusing to let fear have the last word. They knew that their spiritual practice was not separate from justice work—it was the foundation that made sustained action possible.

The bear hibernates, but she also awakens. She rests, but when spring comes, she emerges with cubs to protect and territory to claim.

What is trying to be born through you? What fierce love is stirring in your hibernating heart? What is yours to protect, to nurture, to defend with the unshakeable strength of one who knows she is connected to all life?

The Bear Goddess lives within you. She is both sanctuary and guardian. She is both a soft heart and a strong backbone.

In a world that profits from your fear, your fierce love is a revolutionary act.

**Say it with me: Blessed be the Bear within. Blessed be the fierce love that will not be diminished. Blessed be.**

May you know your fierce love today.

May the 4th Be With You: Rising Together Against Empire

Every May 4th, fans across the galaxy celebrate Star Wars — but this isn't just about lightsabers and epic space battles. At its core, Star Wars is a story about resistance. It’s about ordinary beings choosing to rise up against a brutal Empire, refusing to let fear, apathy, or despair win. Today, let's remember the spiritual heart of the Rebellion — and what it can teach us in our own time.

Let us celebrate the message within Star Wars — a saga not only of battles and planets, but of people who commit to doing what’s right when the outcome is uncertain. These stories are filled with reminders that even in the bleakest moments, we are still called to the work: to resist empire, to protect what we love, and to hold fast to one another.

✨ “Rebellions are built on hope.” – Jyn Erso, Rogue One

But they are not, are they? They are built on relationship, commitment, love, perseverence. The film "Rogue One" was entirely about a group doing what needed to be done, knowing they were almost guaranteed not to survive. Rebellions are not just built on strategy or numbers. They’re built on people who show up, who choose integrity when it costs them something, who continue even when they can’t see how things will end. The Rebellion holds because people refuse to quit — not because they’re sure they’ll win, but because they know who they are.

🌀 “The Force will be with you, always.” – Obi-Wan Kenobi, (Original Series)

This isn’t about magical power. It’s about trust. About being connected to something deeper — call it Spirit, or Source, or just the sacredness of life. Even in exile, even in ruin, the Force is with those who align themselves with justice and compassion.

💥 “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.” – Chirrut Îmwe, Rogue One

Chirrut did not actually wield the force. He believed that all were connected through the force. A breath, a chant, a commitment. When the world feels too much, we return to this rhythm. We are not alone. Our actions matter. Even if we fall, the work continues — and we are part of something greater than ourselves.

🛡 “It’s not about fighting what we hate. It’s about saving what we love.” – Rose Tico, Last Jedi

When exhaustion and despair creep in, we remember: we aren’t just resisting. We’re protecting. We’re tending to what matters — the earth, each other, future generations. The Rebellion isn’t just opposition. It’s care, courage, and love-in-action.

🔥 "We have everything we need." – General Leia Organa, The Last Jedi

Empires rely on fear, silence, and division. But the people — when we remember our strength, when we organize, when we hold fast to our values — are more powerful than any Death Star.

General Leia Organa

So today, on May the 4th, may the Force be with you.

Not as a promise of victory, but as a companion in the long work of compassion, disruption, and repair. We are not called to be heroes — only to be faithful to the work. Whether you're a healer, a dreamer, a fighter, or a farmer: the path of resistance is yours to walk.

This is how we endure.
This is how we belong.
This is how we rise.

May the 4th be with you. And with us all.

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy,

Rev. Amy

Fires of Love, Fields of Labor: May Day Meets Workers’ Day

May Day: Honoring All the Work That Sustains Us

May 1st is a day of paradox and power. It’s Beltane, a time of fertility, fire, and renewal in Pagan traditions — when the Earth’s abundance begins to blossom, and we honor life bursting forth in all its forms. It’s also International Workers’ Day, a day of protest, remembrance, and solidarity rooted in the labor movement and the fight for dignity and justice for all who work.

These two May Days — one ancient, one modern — share more than a calendar date. Both remind us that life requires tending. That something sacred happens whenever people rise up, plant seeds, or care for one another. And both call us to remember: not all labor wears a uniform or draws a paycheck.

Ripe Figs, CC0

The Work ThatGrows the World

The Earth Works. We Work.

Beltane is a celebration of Earth’s labor — the flowering, the fruiting, the unseen toil of root and mycelium. It’s also a reminder that human survival depends on the often invisible work of care: food grown, meals cooked, children held, elders supported, bodies and communities tended.

International Workers’ Day lifts up the labor struggles of wage earners — especially those who’ve been exploited, underpaid, or made invisible by systems that value profit over people. But the meaning of “worker” cannot stop at factory gates or office doors.

Judy Heumann and Barbara Ransom pose for a photograph at TASH's Outstanding Leadership in Disability Law Symposium and Awards Dinner on July 25, 2019. Photo by Bailey Hill CC4.0

The Work of Surviving

So many people — especially disabled, queer, racialized, and impoverished folks — do not survive because they are “productive.” They survive through grit, mutual aid, community, and the sacred labor of persistence.

There is holy work in getting out of bed when the world is heavy.

There is holy work in navigating systems that weren’t built for your body or brain.

There is holy work in staying alive, in dreaming of something better, in loving what the world tells you is unlovable.

Women’s Work, Love’s Work

Historically, “women’s work” — often unpaid, often unseen — has included birthing, feeding, caregiving, cleaning, mending, nursing, comforting, teaching. This labor is the backbone of every society, yet so rarely honored.

And what about the work of loving? Loving our people, our communities, the land, the sacred, ourselves? That’s not soft. That’s revolutionary. Love is a practice. A risk. A labor.

A boxing club on a snowy day in Lower Manhattan

Try It: Expand Your Definition of Work

• Name a kind of work you do that you’ve never been paid for. Say it aloud. Claim it. It counts.
• Honor someone in your life who works in unseen or undervalued ways — send a note, light a candle, share their story.
• Join in collective action — not just protests, but community meals, mutual aid drives, or spaces of joy and solidarity. The work of changing the world is shared.

Stonehenge on May 1, photo by “Stonehenge tours” CC2.0

Sacred Renewal, Fierce Solidarity

Beltane reminds us that renewal is possible. That growth follows long winters. That life insists.

International Workers’ Day reminds us that no one is free until all are free. That change is built through collective effort. That every kind of laborer deserves respect and rest.

So today, may we:

• Celebrate what is blossoming
• Refuse what is dehumanizing
• Honor all the work — waged and unwaged, visible and invisible — that sustains life

You are whole, holy, and worthy.
Your work — all of it — matters.

Rev. Amy

When the World is on Fire: Why Spiritual Care Still Matters

Not everyone has to be a fire fighter to put out a fire. Some of us have to be water carriers.

When authoritarianism rises, when rights are stripped away, when the fabric of society frays—what is the point of tending to small things? What is the point of spiritual care when fascism gains ground?

The answer is simple, but not easy: the work of spiritual care still matters. In fact, it matters more.

Naming the Tensions

In a moment like this, we’re pulled in many directions.

• Panic: Drop everything. Scream. Mobilize.
• Grief: Lie down and cry. Lose faith in what we do.
• Numbness: Pretend it’s not happening. Keep busy. Keep scrolling.
• Determination: Carry on with work and routines as if nothing has changed.

And for those of us whose work centers around care, spirit, healing, and justice, there’s an added tension:

How do I do this work now? Is it selfish to keep tending to my practice, to my livelihood, to my own healing while the world is burning?

Burning dumpster at George Floyd protests in Washington DC, Lafayette Square by Rosa Pineda CC4.0

Yes, Your Work Still Matters

I want to say this clearly: spiritual care is not a luxury. It is not optional. It is not secondary to “real” resistance.

Spiritual care is part of resistance.

The practices we offer—presence, reflection, discernment, connection, grief-holding, joy-tending—these are what keep people human in the face of dehumanization. These are what make the difference between despair and determination, between burnout and resilience.

If you’re a caregiver, a healer, a spiritual companion, your work is part of the resistance. You are offering people a lifeline. You are helping them find their ground when the world is shaking.

Personal Crisis in Public Crisis

And what if your personal life is also unraveling? What if you’re navigating divorce, illness, poverty, grief?

Well, of course that is happening. Life is still “life-ing.”. That’s not a disqualification. That’s part of the truth.

Your heartbreak does not make your care less valuable. It may, in fact, deepen it.

Your questions about what to keep, what to let go, and what to rebuild—those are holy questions.

There’s no shame in regrouping. There’s no shame in starting over. There is no shame in needing care and offering it. We are in this together, and none of us is immune to the ache of these times.

So How Do We Go On?

• Gently. With ourselves. With one another. With the work.
• Imperfectly. Trusting that “enough” is still sacred.
• Creatively. Letting old models go if needed, experimenting with what still resonates.
• With discernment. Listening for what’s real, what’s needed, what’s yours to hold.

Try This

1. Set a timer for ten minutes.
2. Ask yourself: What part of my work still feels alive?
3. Write down whatever comes. Don’t judge.
4. Then ask: What needs to rest? What’s worth tending now?

You’re not alone in this.

The work of care—spiritual, emotional, communal—is never easy, and even less so in times of crisis. But it is still ours to do. Not perfectly. Not endlessly. But with presence, with honesty, and with courage. The world may be on fire, and still, we keep lighting candles. Not to deny the dark, but to remember we are not forsaken. Our work remains. We remain. Let’s keep tending the sacred together.

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy,

Rev. Amy

Holding On to What is Good

Holding On

What does it mean  to hold on—especially in times of chaos and fear? There’s no shortage of challenges in our world, and whether they’re global or personal, we all face moments when it feels like we’re being pulled under by the currents of uncertainty, panic, or rage. But holding on is not just about surviving; it’s about thriving, as best we can. Holding on is about finding strength, grounding, and meaning in the midst of the storm.

Nancy Wood’s words resonate - repeating in my head:

“Hold on to what is good, even if it is a handful of earth. Hold on to what you believe, even if it is a tree which stands by itself. Hold on to life, even when it is easier letting go.”

The Author's Garden (Garlic in February) Photo by Hawthorne Post

Hold on to Earth

What does it mean to hold on to a handful of earth? It means grounding ourselves in the tangible and the sacred. The earth is our anchor. When chaos swirls, take a moment to feel the ground beneath you. Let it remind you that you are connected to something greater. The soil holds seeds of renewal and reminds us that even in our darkest winters, life is waiting to bloom again.

The earth is our anchor. When chaos swirls, take a moment to feel the soil between your fingers, the coolness of a stone, the steady weight of the ground beneath you.

What is true? Are you still here in this moment? Still breathing, heart still beating? Say to yourself – I survived another day. Yahoo! That’s worth holding onto, recognizing, and celebrating.

Hold on to Spirit

What about holding on to what you believe, even if it’s a solitary tree? Sometimes, holding on to your faith or values can feel isolating, like standing alone in a storm. Yet, that solitary tree is resilient because its roots run deep. Tree roots connect and communicate with other tree roots. Similarly, we can draw strength from our own roots—our spiritual communities, our relationships, and our connection to what we hold holy. We have other roots. We come from people who survived. They may have lived through horror or hardship or just the struggle of daily existence. These roots keep us steady when the wind howls.

In these moments, the wisdom of Mr. Rogers comes to mind: “Look for the helpers.” Holding on does not mean holding on alone. When chaos strikes, we find our strength not only within but also in the hands of others. Community is the antidote to fear. When you feel like letting go, let someone else hold on for you. When someone else is struggling, be their helper.

When you feel lost, I invite you to slow down for a moment. Notice who your helpers are. I used to notice my dog's soft ears, and now I look for a cat to plop in my lap. When I worked in a hospital, I'd take a detour by the babies' window. Do you have a formal or informal spiritual companion? A favorite TV show? I invite you to write these down. You can come back to this list in moments when you forget. 

The Author's Garden (600-year-old Alfarroba) Photo by Hawthorne Post

Hold on to Love

This truth is echoed in the music that uplifts us. The song “Hold On” by All Good Things reminds us to keep moving forward: “We’ve been walking through the fire, but we’ll make it out alive.” It’s a battle cry to resist the undertow of despair. Katie Nichole’s “Hold On” echoes a similar theme: “Hold on just a little bit longer. Help is on the way.” These songs remind us that even in our lowest moments, possibility is closer than we think.

As the American coup unfolded, I was overwhelmed (I still am as of this writing). Then a fragment of song wafted through my mind. I didn't remember it all, but the music was sweet. And enough of the words were clear: the words to the Nancy Wood poem, "Hold on to what is good," and for a moment, everything softened. Sometimes, love shows up like that.

What is a good that you hang into? Earth, air, fire or water? Human, animal, vegetable, or mineral? In “Something Good” from The Sound of Music, Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer sing about love despite running from dangerous Nazi recruiters. Yes, even in the midst of life’s chaos, beauty and goodness still exist and may emerge from within. When we stay open to possibility, we make space for something good to find us, even when we least expect it.

Hold on to Life

Hold on to life—even when it is easier letting go. Holding on is not just about endurance; it is about holding on to joy, to those moments of light that break through even the darkest days. A baby’s smile, unguarded and full of wonder. The scent of rain on dry earth. A song that lifts your heart. These are not small things; they are the very things that tether us to life itself. Joy is an act of resistance, as Toi Derricotte reminds us—not because the pain isn’t real, but because it must not be all we know.

Let joy interrupt the sorrow. Let laughter insist on being heard. Let beauty demand its place, even when grief feels overwhelming. To hold on to life is to make space for all of it—the struggle and the sweetness, the sorrow and the song. This is how we resist the undertow. This is how we hold on.

What is something good you can hold onto right now? A memory? A song? A breath? Name it. Let it be an anchor.

CC0

Hold on to One Another

Let’s return to the final lines of Nancy Wood’s poem:

"Hold on to my hand, even when I have gone away from you."

Even when the world feels uncertain, love does not vanish. The strength we have shared, the kindness we have offered, the hands we have held—all of it remains.

So how do we resist the undertow in times of chaos and fear? We hold on. We hold on to the earth, steady beneath us. We hold on to each other, trusting that we do not have to do this alone. We hold on to love, even when it feels distant. And we hold on to the sacred, knowing that something greater than fear is always present.

When the waves rise, let’s reach for one another. Let's ask for help and let’s be helpers. Let’s remind each other that this moment, this heartbeat, this love, matters.

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy. Blessed be.

Rev. Amy

A Spiritual Practice for Resilience and Resistance

A Spiritual Practice for Resilience and Resistance

When oppression weighs on the body, mind, and spirit, we need practices that root us in our dignity, strengthen our resolve, and connect us to something greater than fear. The following spiritual practice is designed for those navigating injustice – whether you are directly targeted, supporting others, or working for change. This is a way to stay resourced, ethical, and present, even in times of struggle.

Image by John Hain CC0

Preparing the Space

Find a quiet place where you feel safe. If that’s not possible, even a small symbolic gesture – a hand over your heart, a deep breath – can create the inner space you need. If you like, gather objects that remind you of strength: a stone, an image of an ancestor, a piece of cloth, or anything that carries meaning for you.

Grounding in the Body

Begin with noticing three deep breaths. Alternatively, place a hand on your heart or pulse point and notice your heartbeat. Gently attend to the wholeness of your body. Feel the weight of your feet pressing against the floor, this is the earth calling you home. Witness the presence of your own being. If it helps, hum softly or place a hand over bare skin or belly.

Say (aloud or silently):

I am here. I am real. I am worthy of love and dignity.

If you feel anxiety rising, imagine your blood, skin, and breath as a thread connecting you to all those who have walked this path before: ancestors, friends, strangers who share your struggle. You are not alone.

Naming Truth

Oppression thrives on silence and lies, convincing us that what we see and feel isn’t real. This part of the practice is about affirming what you know to be true.

Ask yourself:

• What injustice weighs on my heart today?
• What fear or anger is present in my body?
• What truth do I need to say, even if only to myself?

Speak or write:

“I name this truth: __________. It matters. My feelings are real.”

If it helps, repeat a grounding phrase:

“One word of truth can outweigh the world.” (Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn)

Remembering Connection

Oppression isolates. Resistance, healing, and survival happen in community. Even when we feel alone, we are part of something larger.

Close your eyes (if comfortable) and call to mind:

• A person, past or present, who gives you strength.
• A community, near or far, who shares your struggle.
• A greater presence: love, justice, the sacred, the ancestors.

Imagine their presence around you. If you wish, say:

I am part of something greater than fear. I am held in love and memory.

Releasing and Strengthening

Take a moment to release what does not serve you: fear, shame, exhaustion. Imagine setting it down beside you. It is not gone, you are not going to pretend it is not real, but you do not have to carry it alone.

Now, ask yourself:

• What is one small action I can take today to honor my dignity?
• What practice – prayer, movement, laughter, rest – can restore me?

Commit to one thing. It does not have to be big. Even a sip of water with intention can be an act of defiance against despair.

Closing

End with a phrase, prayer, or gesture that affirms your worth. You might say:

I am whole, holy, and worthy.

I belong to a lineage of resilience.

I am still here. And that is enough.

Move your awareness back to your heartbeat or breath. When you are ready, move forward into your day, knowing that resistance is not just in grand actions, but in each moment we choose dignity over despair.

Use this practice as often as you need. Share it with those who need it. Together, we continue.

Blessings of resilience,

Rev. Amy

Looking for support in creating rituals that foster community and resilience? Reach out to Rev Amy at http://AmyBeltaine.info

See similar rituals for Lament and communal resilience.