In a world that often feels like it’s unraveling where racism festers, democracy frays, and truth is treated like a disposable tool, it can be hard to breathe, let alone find peace. Every headline can feel like a punch. Every injustice another stone on our chest.
Yet peace is not the same as passivity. It's not found in pretending things are fine. It is something deeper: a quiet strength we cultivate in the storm, not after it.
Peace begins with honesty. We name what hurts. We acknowledge the racism, the lies, the corruption, the grief. We do not numb ourselves to it, we face it, together or alone, and say, this is not okay. That truth-telling is its own kind of peace. It roots us.
From there, we protect small spaces of calm. A deep breath before we scroll. A walk without our phone. A conversation that restores instead of drains. In dark times, peace can be radical. It can look like rest. Like joy. Like holding space for beauty and for anger without letting either consume us.
And finally, we keep choosing connection. Not the shallow kind, but the kind that binds us across pain. When we listen. When we protest. When we vote, write, call, speak, and hold each other up. Peace isn’t passive, it’s powered by love, and love, especially in times like these, is resistance.
The world may not change overnight. But peace, real peace starts within, and spreads from there. One steady, stubborn breath at a time.
