Embracing Change in a Chaotic World

The Pain of Democracy’s Slowness

Democracy, by design, moves slowly. It seeks to weigh many voices, check power, and protect freedoms. But in the face of urgent crises—homelessness, climate collapse, racial injustice—it can feel less like a virtue and more like a barrier.

We watch passionate leaders rise and fall. Bold policies are launched and then dismantled. It’s tempting to wonder: Will we ever get to build something that lasts?

You’re not alone if you’ve asked that question. You're not cynical for feeling disillusioned. These are the honest questions of a heart that still wants to believe something better is possible.

Staying Rooted in a Disrupted World

So where do we go with this ache? We begin by acknowledging it. We shouldn’t rush to silver linings or numb out. Instead, we pause long enough to let our disappointment be felt. Only then can true hope emerge. The kind that is not naïve but resilient.

Here are some small truths I return to when the largeness of it all feels like too much:

• Change at the top may come and go, but change at the roots grows slowly and surely. I’ve seen it in families who choose to love more consciously. In teachers who tend to the quiet child no one else sees. In local leaders who reimagine what care can look like in their communities.

  
  

• What feels slow is often foundational. Trees do not rush to grow. Water carves canyons over time. Like these natural forces, human resilience unfolds with steady persistence.

  
  

• Nature shows us how resilience works, not by resisting change outright, but by adapting, bending, and sometimes yielding in order to survive and even thrive. Forests regenerate after fires; rivers find new paths after floods. The ecosystem itself is a dance of resistance and surrender, balance and renewal.

  
  

• We are part of this bigger ecosystem, woven into a story that stretches beyond our lifetimes. What we do—our small acts of care, courage, and hope—ripples outward, like roots and water nourishing a forest unseen beneath the surface.

  
  

• Have faith that adversity can strengthen what comes next. Just as a tree’s roots deepen in rocky soil, our struggles can build a more grounded and enduring strength within us.

  
  

• Staying awake is its own kind of activism. It’s easier to turn away, to grow numb. But the decision to stay present, to keep feeling, loving, praying, and working is not weakness. It is strength.

  
  

Becoming a Hope-Maker

We may not always have power over policy. But we do have power over how we show up in our homes, our relationships, and our neighborhoods. We get to choose, every day, whether we contribute to fear or to healing.

Sun shining through the cloud

• Plant something, literally or metaphorically. A pot of herbs on your windowsill, a note of encouragement, or a moment of quiet prayer. Grow what is good. When so much feels out of our hands, tending to one small thing—one bit of beauty, nourishment, or care—grounds us in what still matters. It’s a way of saying: I choose to believe in renewal, in growth, in what can still flourish.

  
  

• Tell someone they matter. Remind them that their story is worth hearing. As you become more present, you’ll begin to see small openings—opportunities to move intentionally against the current narrative of division or apathy. Pause and notice your fellow shopper in the checkout line. Offer a kind word, a genuine smile, a shared human moment.

  
  

• Do the next kind thing. Not to fix the world, but to honor the dignity of being human in it. There is plenty of opportunity, every day, to notice the people around us and offer kindness in ways big and small.

  
  

These aren’t small things. They are the seeds of a better world, planted in ordinary soil.

Finding Peace in the Chaos

In the midst of chaos, finding peace can feel like an uphill battle. Yet, it is essential for our well-being. Here are some strategies to cultivate inner peace:

• Practice mindfulness. Take a moment to breathe deeply. Focus on the present. Allow yourself to feel your emotions without judgment. This practice can help ground you in the moment.

  
  

• Connect with nature. Spend time outdoors. Nature has a unique way of soothing our souls. Whether it’s a walk in the park or simply sitting under a tree, let nature remind you of the beauty in the world.

  
  

• Engage in creative expression. Art, writing, or music can be powerful outlets for emotions. Create something that reflects your feelings. It can be therapeutic and liberating.

  
  

• Seek community support. Surround yourself with people who uplift you. Share your thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, just knowing others understand can lighten the load.

  
  

Final Words

I don’t have a neat conclusion. The truth is, we’re living in messy times, and the grief of slow change is real. But I believe that if we can hold that grief without letting it harden us… if we can stay rooted, awake, and open-hearted… we will be part of something holy.

And maybe that’s how real change happens: not just through leaders and laws, but through ordinary people who choose to keep showing up with wisdom, with love, and with hope that is deeper than optimism.

Let’s be those people.

What do you do to keep connected to strength and hope in heavy times?

I’d love to hear. Share so we can keep making space for grief, for healing, for one another.