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

No Hope? Honor Despair, Turn to Love

I Am Filled with Despair and Can’t Find Hope 

Sometimes hope feels out of reach — and that’s not a failure. It’s part of being alive in a hurting world. Even when hope feels impossible, the sacred currents of love, anger, care, and commitment still flow through us.

When despair whispers that it’s already over — we can answer with stubborn, tender, fierce devotion. We can grieve what must be grieved. Rage where rage is welcome. And still show up for the world we believe in.

If you can hold onto hope, do it. Hope is a beautiful, powerful force when it comes.

But what about the times when hope just isn’t accessible? 

You are allowed to feel hopeless. You are still whole, holy and worthy in your despair. Your pain is real. Yet, even here, sacred forces move within us.

When hope feels impossible, commitment can still carry you.

Love can carry you.

Care can carry you.

Anger — the fierce, righteous kind — can carry you.

The deep pull of ethical action, the stubborn insistence on right action, can carry you.

Love, rage, commitment — these are sacred forces, flowing through us even when hope falls silent.

The Danish Resistance and the Rescue of the Jews

In 1943, under Nazi occupation, the Danish people learned that the Germans planned to round up and deport Denmark’s Jewish citizens.

The Danish Resistance, ordinary neighbors, fishermen, and students, acted almost overnight.

They did not know if they would succeed.

They acted anyway — not because they were sure, but because it was right.

In a few weeks, nearly 7,200 of Denmark’s 7,800 Jews were smuggled across the sea to neutral Sweden.

Ordinary people risked prison or execution, hiding families in boats, basements, and barns.

One fisherman later said,

“We did what had to be done. It was not about bravery. It was about being human.”

Denmark’s Jewish community survived the war largely intact — a rare, shining story of mass resistance that succeeded not through certainty, but through courageous, stubborn, collective action.

Sometimes the refusal to give in to despair saves whole communities.

Danish fishermen (foreground) ferry Jews across a narrow sound to safety in neutral Sweden during the German occupation of Denmark. Sweden, 1943.

You do not have to feel hope to refuse the pit of despair.

Find your own way forward.

Grieve what needs grieving.

Rage where rage is welcome.

Make spaces for sorrow, and don’t silence it.

The world needs the grief and the rage as much as it needs the laughter and the healing — they are all part of the repair.

Despair is what fascism thrives on — and refusing despair is sacred resistance.

• Despair halts repair.
• Despair clouds vision.
• Despair chokes out compassion.

Despair tells you it’s already over — and that’s exactly what oppressive systems want you to believe. But we are children of the Earth, of the Sacred, of the deep, resilient mystery.

Even if all we can offer is one small action, one stubborn breath, one choice to love — that is enough to crack open the future.

Do not surrender the sacred spark within you to despair. Do not give them that victory.

Don’t give them that victory.

Even if it’s anger that fuels you at first, keep showing up.

Even if it’s stubbornness that gets you out of bed, keep showing up.

Even if you don’t believe it will work — even if you’re sure it won’t — keep showing up in the ways you can.

• The children whose food is rotting in the fields need you.
• The disabled folks whose benefits have been gutted need you.
• The immigrants and students sent to camps need you.
• The working people who can’t afford the rising prices need you.

Your family — your neighbors — all of us, who are no longer protected by food inspectors, clean air regulations, safety measures — we need each other.

The Movement is for Us All, by Terrance Osborne, CC04.0

Robin Wall Kimmerer shares in “Braiding Sweetgrass”:

“Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”

Repair and vision and compassion are not luxuries.

They are how we survive.

They are how we create something better — even when hope feels impossibly far away. Showing up isn’t about certainty. It is about devotion — to life, to justice, to each other, and to the sacred possibilities still unfolding.

So keep moving.

Not because you’re optimistic.

Not because you’re sure.

But because love, and justice, and humanity, are still worth the fight.

adrienne maree brown says in “Emergent Strategy:”

“What you pay attention to grows. We are all in the process of deciding every day what we will pay attention to.”

Article by Ulvee Muneer 

Try It: Staying in the Movement Without Hope

Even without hope, you can nourish your ability to keep moving:

1. Find connection.

Get involved with others who are already doing the work.

Look for groups like Indivisible, League of Women Voters, local organizers, people showing up to town halls, mutual aid networks. You don’t have to do this alone.

2. Join in celebration and joy.

Resistance is more sustainable with laughter, music, dance, storytelling, theater, hugs, and community. Let joy strengthen your spirit even when despair lingers at the edges.

3. Tend to your basic needs.

Check in with yourself: Are you getting decent food? Enough rest? Opportunities for learning and stimulation? Care for your body and mind so you can stay in the work.

You are whole, holy, and worthy,
Rev. Amy

Celebrating the Carnation Revolution: Fascism Will End

Flowers in the Barrel: Portugal’s Carnation Revolution and the Work of Our Time

In my adopted country of Portugal, April 25th is more than a date. It is a living memory — a reminder that the world we long for can crack open suddenly, when ordinary people choose to act together. (See this video for a quick summary: https://youtu.be/pVO-89_eTPo)

Fifty years ago, after decades of dictatorship, censorship, and endless colonial wars, a generation raised under repression chose another path. Soldiers and civilians alike refused the old script of fear. They stepped into the streets not with weapons, but with music, arms linked, and red carnations placed gently into the barrels of guns.

The town of Tavira, April 25, 1974

And in a single day, a dictatorship collapsed.

Today, as many countries move sharply to the right — with explicit authoritarianism gaining ground in places like Hungary, Venezuela, and beyond — Portugal’s Revolução dos Cravos reminds us: despair is not destiny. Small acts matter. Collective courage matters. Imagination matters.

The thread of dignity, love, and fierce refusal runs through us still.

We know this to be true

Authoritarianism thrives on despair.

Repressive systems want us to believe nothing can change — that resistance is useless, that no better future is possible. But the Carnation Revolution shows otherwise: change may seem impossible until it suddenly isn’t.

Collective action is powerful.

In Portugal, resistance had been building quietly for years: workers striking, artists creating coded songs, families sharing forbidden books. On April 25th, all those small threads wove together. Together, they became unstoppable.

Portugal’s Carnation Revolution reminds us that even under brutal conditions, people can organize for freedom. Movements across history show how collective courage and nonviolent resistance can dismantle systems of oppression.

A child places a carnation in the barrel of a gun, photo staged to celebrate the 1974 revolution in Portugal

Connection and joy sustain and transform.

Isolation feeds despair. Community, creativity, and celebration feed hope. Music, dance, laughter, and shared meals are not luxuries — they are part of the foundation that sustains movements and mends weary hearts.

Symbols and imagination nourish movements.

A flower in a gun barrel did not end the dictatorship alone — but it became a visible sign that another way was possible. The world needs beauty, joy, and vision as much as strategy and grit.

Songs, flowers, poems, marches — these signs of resistance help people remember who they are and what they long for. They keep imagination alive when propaganda tries to flatten it.

Remember: the fall is only the beginning.

Toppling a dictatorship is not the end of the work. Real change depends on what comes next: repairing harm, rebuilding trust, and nurturing freedom with patience and skill. As in Portugal, building democracy is an ongoing journey.

Civilians joined with soldiers, riding on tanks in the streets of Lisbon

Try It

1. Learn from movements for freedom.

Study histories of nonviolent resistance, collective action, and everyday courage. The world has been changed again and again by ordinary people daring to act together.

2. Nourish yourself through connection and joy.

Build relationships with others who care about dignity and justice. Seek out art, music, laughter, and practices that sustain your spirit for the long journey.

3. Pay attention to the signs and symbols of hope.

Look for the helpers, the stories, the songs, and the small acts that signal another world is possible. Share them. Celebrate them. Let them remind you what we’re working toward.

4. Prepare for the long, unfolding work.

The fall of a regime is only the beginning. The real work is building something better afterward. Stay rooted. Keep tending the world you want to grow.

Remember that you belong to a lineage of courage. Those who came before us also struggled, faltered, wept, and chose to keep going. Their victories — great and small — are a legacy we carry forward.

You are whole, holy, and worthy,

Rev. Amy

Beginning the Journey: Intake Practices for Spiritual Tending

Beginning the Tending Relationship with Hospitality, Consent, and Care

Beginning a spiritual companionship relationship is an act of profound hospitality. From the first email to the first few sessions, your presence and clarity set the tone for what’s possible. A thoughtful intake process isn’t about paperwork—it’s about building a container of consent, safety, and sacred welcome. Whether your style is formal or fluid, rooted in tradition or improvisational, what matters most is that each person who arrives feels percieved, honored, and free to discern what’s right for them. In this way, our first moments together become not just logistical, but deeply holy.

The beginning of a spiritual companionship relationship is just as sacred as its ongoing work. How we welcome a seeker—how we gather information, build relationship, and establish agreements—lays the foundation for trust, safety, and deep spiritual work. There’s no single right way to begin this journey. What matters is that you’re clear on why you’re doing what you’re doing, and how it might feel for the person sitting across from you.

Welcome to the Garden, CC0

From Curiosity to Relationship

1. From Interest to Connection

When someone expresses interest in working with you, how do you respond?

• Some companions reply with a warm email and invite a “get to know you” session (20–60 minutes).
• Others jump right into scheduling the first full appointment.
• What’s your rhythm? How do you balance accessibility with clarity about your practice?

2. Discerning a Match

The “Get to Know You” appointment—or a series of exchanged emails, a referral, or even simply your website—can help both you and the explorer discern whether you’re a good match for spiritual tending.

This isn’t about judging or evaluating each other, but about mutual fit.

You’re listening for resonance: Does it feel like trust, safety, and depth might be possible together?

Both you and the explorer should feel comfortable moving forward. If not, it’s okay to bless and release the connection—or to offer referrals if you can.

You might consider:

• Do your identities, practices, and spiritual languages feel compatible—or at least respectfully bridgeable?
• Are there any red flags around boundaries, expectations, or needs?
• Do you feel a sense of welcome and spaciousness together?
• Would you prefer to continue discerning fit during the first few appointments before committing long-term?

A gentle intake process honors that not every connection is meant to become a companionship—and that’s a sacred discernment too.

Handshake, CC0

3. The Covenant or Agreement

Spiritual companionship is a relationship. Whether you call it a covenant, agreement, or shared understanding, it’s helpful to name:

• Confidentiality
• Frequency and format of meetings
• Length (months or years) or commitment
• Fees or sliding scales
• How to pause or end
• Your role and limits as a companion
  
  

Think about how and when you share this. Some companions offer a written agreement; others speak it aloud.

4. Gathering the Basics

Before or during your first meeting, you may want to ask for some logistical information:

• Contact info and emergency contact (required)
• How they found you
• Any accessibility needs
• Pronouns, identities, or traditions that are meaningful
  
  

You can do this via intake form, email, or conversation—whatever best matches your style.

5. Optional Deep-Dive Questionnaires

Some companions use an intake questionnaire that asks about the seeker’s spiritual background, current practices, hopes, and concerns.

• These can be rich for reflection, but may feel overwhelming or clinical to some.
• If you use one, consider explaining why—and make it optional.
• Alternatively, you might gather this information over the first few sessions.

Outline of a person sitting in lotus position. Filled with words such as "Who am I?" and "My story." CC0

6. The First Three Appointments

The early sessions are often about building relationship. Some companions invite seekers to share a spiritual autobiography—others simply follow the seeker’s lead. Some use those appointments to "try on" various approaches to allow the explorer to have context for later choices. Some companions allow these three first sessions to be the time of discerning the match. 

You might:

• Ask open questions like, “What has shaped your spirit?”
• Offer gentle structure to help them reflect.
• Notice patterns, invitations, and hungers while staying attuned to what feels spacious and possible in the present moment.

What matters most is that you’re listening—not just to the content of their story, but to how they’re arriving, what they need, and what feels possible.

Try It: Build Your Own Intake Flow

Sketch out the journey from first contact to the third session. Ask yourself:

• What’s most important to communicate?
• Where do you invite mutual discernment?
• What are your own boundaries and needs?
• How might this feel for a neurodivergent, trauma-experienced, or hesitant seeker?

Then, try it out—and keep learning from each new explorer who comes your way.

Every seeker who reaches out is offering you something tender: the beginning of a sacred relationship. By meeting them with clarity, hospitality, and care, you co-create a space where transformation is possible. And with each new beginning, you learn again how sacred it is simply to meet—with reverence, curiosity, and consent.

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy,

Rev. Amy