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.

Spiritual Resistance in Chaotic Times: Strength, Meaning, and Hope

Equipping Spiritual Resistance

In times of rising totalitarianism, when entire communities are targeted with discrimination, hatred, and violence, how do we survive? How do we stay whole, ethical, and grounded in our values? How do we resist without losing ourselves to despair?

For those of us who accompany others on their spiritual journeys – whether as spiritual companions, activists, or simply as friends – these questions are urgent. The people who turn to us may be trans folks, people of color, Spanish speakers, disabled people, or anyone marginalized in America’s current climate. They seek spiritual resources to endure, resist, and reclaim joy in the midst of oppression.

History offers us voices of those who have survived and resisted before. Their wisdom has been forged from the worst of times:  Nazi concentration camps, Soviet gulags, fascist regimes, and anti-colonial struggles. They remind us that even in the fearful times, people have found ways to sustain their spirits, to resist oppression, and to pass on commitment to love, like a candle flame.

Candle lighting another candle (Pexel)

Finding Meaning in the Struggle

Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist, wrote that “everything can be taken from a man[sic] but one thing, the last of the human freedoms, to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Frankl found that even in the depths of suffering, meaning was possible. He saw prisoners who, despite starvation and brutality, shared their last piece of bread, and others who found dignity in comforting a fellow inmate.

To resist despair, we must ask: What meaning can we make of our struggle? For some, it may be the commitment to care for others. For others, it may be the knowledge that survival itself is resistance. And for many, it is the understanding that we are part of a lineage of resistance, what Czesław Miłosz called, in “The Captive Mind,” “a mandate from those who have perished, a mandate to act in their place and to fulfill their unfulfilled hope.”

Resisting Silence and Fear

Totalitarianism thrives on silence. It isolates, shames, and convinces people that resistance is futile. Nadezhda Mandelstam, who lived through Stalin’s purges, wrote: “If nothing else is left, one must scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.” Speaking the truth – even in whispers, even in hidden circles – is a form of defiance.

In Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi tells of her childhood under the Iranian regime, where even wearing the wrong kind of clothing could be deadly. Yet her family laughed together in secret, held underground discussions, and kept the memory of freedom alive. To resist, we do not always need grand gestures; we need only to refuse the lie that we are alone.

The Power of Community and Ritual

Valarie Kaur, a Sikh activist in the USA, speaks of revolutionary love: the idea that survival and resistance are deeply tied to community and care. “The darkness of the womb,” she says, “is not the darkness of the tomb.” Even when everything feels hopeless, something new can be born if we hold each other up.

For those of us providing spiritual companionship, this means helping others stay connected to their traditions, ancestors, and practices. In “My Grandmother’s Hands”, Resmaa Menakem teaches us that trauma is stored in the body, but so is resilience. Simple rituals, breathing, humming, grounding in nature, can remind us that we belong to something larger than our suffering.

As spiritual companions, we can help people ask:

• What practices keep me connected to my dignity?
• Who are my people, past and present, who remind me that I am not alone?
• What stories, prayers, or songs bring me strength?

Plant with roots in water glass (Pexels)

Courage, Humor, and the Refusal to Submit

Vaclav Havel, who resisted Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia, wrote that “hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” To live in truth, even in small ways, is resistance.

Primo Levi, an Auschwitz survivor, reminds us that laughter is an act of defiance: “If you lose the ability to laugh, you lose the ability to think.” Humor, even in dangerous times, keeps us human. The ability to see absurdity in oppression –to laugh at tyranny’s pomposity, or dance furiously – is a form of spiritual resilience.

Laughing kids on street (Pexels)

Bearing Witness, Holding Memory

Anna Akhmatova, a poet under Stalin, stood in the prison lines with other women, waiting to hear the fate of their loved ones. She wrote, “I stand as witness to the common lot, survivor of that time, that place.” Bearing witness, refusing to let suffering be erased, is itself a form of resistance.

George Orwell warned that authoritarian regimes seek to “obliterate people’s understanding of their own history.” We see this now, as books are banned, histories are rewritten, and entire communities are told they do not belong. Holding memory, telling stories, and refusing to forget is an act of defiance.

Living as Resistance

The line between survival and resistance is not always clear. Sometimes, getting out of bed is resistance. Sometimes, feeding each other is resistance. Sometimes, telling a joke, breathing deeply, or singing an old song is resistance. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn reminds us, “One word of truth shall outweigh the whole world.” Even in a time of fear, we can choose truth.

For those of us who guide others spiritually, our role is to help people remember: You are not alone. You have ancestors – of blood, of spirit, of struggle – who have traveled this road before. You carry something within you that no regime, no oppressor, no law can take away. You are whole, holy, and worthy.

We resist not only for ourselves but for those who came before and those who will come after. And in that resistance, we find each other. We find joy. And we find life.

Let us remain faithful: Faithful to our wholeness, faithful to one another, and faithful to the work we must do.

Blessings of resistance,

Rev. Amy

Deepen and explore spiritual practice and find meaning through spiritual direction work. Find a Spiritual Companion, visit http://AmyBeltaine.info or https://shorturl.at/pr0ue or http://UUSDN.org 

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