One word, plus a routine change, can change everything

One word, plus a routine change, really can change everything. Care to join me?

What's the one word that sits at your core right now? Think of one word right now. It can be anything, don't overthink it here. Got it? I'll ask you to think of one again in the middle and at the end of this essay.

A new routine

The routine I established as an herbalist across the past 7 years has completely changed as I shift back toward writing full time this year. Before that I was a writer, but I quickly learned that my old writing routines didn't work at all for me here in 2025. So, here's a peek into my new routine:

• Monday - write the rage and frustration and anger. Pour it all out where I can see it. Imagine I'm getting almost all of it out of my system. Share a bit with friends online. Try not to share too much of it online right now. I'm old enough to know that I'm at my most manipulatable when I am exhausted and outraged. So right now I'm highly likely to share total BS on Mondays– my own and others.
• Tuesday - invite other emotions and perspectives in again. Re-read what I wrote Monday, find spots where I recognize myself and where I don't. Edit and write to shine more light on who I am and what I actually feel and believe. Let go of everything that feels like abuse or like fascist (generational abuse run amok) behavior and thinking. That's not who I am. Not who my people are. Why would I write on their behalf? Bleh.
• Wednesday - spend time with friends and family, ideally in person, but also on the phone or in online conversations. Almost instantly, realize that I haven't let nearly as much rage and frustration and anger go as I thought I had. ;-) Hold those feelings together. Strategize together. Allow people who love me to shine a light on who I am and who we are together and do the same for them. I do usually still write some this day– that's just who I am. But people and personal relationship building come first on this day. This is brand new for me as a writer, even though I've been writing most of my life.
• Thursday - rewrite, or toss the whole thing out and start again, and write the essay I actually want to write. Full of the imagination and inspiration and stories and love and joy and courage and pain of my whole community. Publish. Share. Wait. See what happens. Learn and unlearn.
• Friday - Sunday - support and be supported by local, and emotionally local, community. When I succeed at doing this, then the rage and frustration and anger I feel is more balanced and tempered by the wonder of this life and by friendship and laughter and the beautiful, abundant world. I become more me. That's why this has become my new writing/living schedule. Because becoming more myself, in the company of those doing the same, is what is needed– by all of us, I believe– now.

Two paragraphs from what I wrote Monday

I cut the 10,000 words of outrage I wrote Monday. Plenty of folks sharing outrage now, and that's not my strength anyway. But the next two paragraphs from my rage day feel worth sharing here.

Here in the U.S. in February 2025, most people I know now are watching the entire system of government at the federal level– all our old checks and balances, our constitution, our shared and hard-won values that had become policy and law and tradition across generations, our private data, our elder and veterans benefits, our children and grandchildren's jobs and futures, and apparently democracy itself– be attacked from every angle, cruelly and rapidly, by a few very wealthy, very wounded, and apparently always-wounding-others men, and their lackies. We've been hearing these wounded men still trapped within their own childhood abuse call what they're doing now the use of hard power to save people from themselves. Hard power? Saving the American people from the American people? Jesus H Christ. As if the earth herself or the whole human world are somehow just dying for more violence, suffering, cruelty, pettiness, abuse, neglect, hatred of neighbors, and death. Sure, guys, we all just can't wait for things to get even more difficult, painful, and horrific as you "save" us– all elders, all adults, and all children– from ourselves. It's always such a treat when the most abusive person in the room takes charge. Whoopie.

In the high-tech world where I lived for two decades, we called people like these guys black hats. Hackers that move with ill intent for the love of cruelty, to punish imagined enemies or humanity as a whole, and/or for personal financial gain. No organization on earth would intentionally put black hat hackers in charge of their organization– not unless they truly wanted the entire organization, and everyone in it, and everyone connected to it, burned to the ground, while someone else got to steal almost everything you all deeply care about. Is that what our neighbors who voted these guys want?

It's not fear at my core today

After weeks of watching an attempt at rapid, entire system-of-government-and-way-of-being dismantling, we're tired. We're tired of watching these unchecked, still-angry billionaires push people around and fire good people and cheat and gloat and sign potentially illegal documents and send tweets and emails that nobody is certain should be taken seriously or can even be enforced. Tired of watching them line their pockets with new contracts while half of congress pays for those contracts out of the pockets of poor people. Tired of them whining that clearly only a fascist dictatorship or some sort of weird, feudal, inbred-moron-king-type-governance-thingy plus "gold visas for millionaires" and trampling on the constitution will save the U.S. from Americans now. And because we're tired and scared, many of us are full of fear. And because we're full of fear, it's hard to see or feel or think above or beyond or around that fear. Certainly not in any sustained way. That fear sucks a lot of us back in, almost daily now. Myself included. I was not raised to look away when my neighbors are in trouble.

Fear is pumped at us 24 x 7 right now from within our own country and government. And for many of us, from within our own families too. This has been true for quite some time, though. It's more like now the volume is being turned up and up by the billionaire fear-peddlers. And those fear-peddlers are trying to take all microphones away from everyone else who dares to want to speak or share other perspectives. Even for those of us aware of the fact that billionaire-owned media and social media and algorithms built to keep us buying things and trapped within in-groups are pumping fear at us almost nonstop. Even for those of us deeply connected to nature or very closely connected to people in other countries or cultures or political parties and their news sources with different perspectives, it is difficult to escape that constantly pounding fear now that the most abusive men hold more of the microphones.

Imagine what those not connected to a whole world of loving possibilities must be feeling right now.

Imagine what those who believe they have no choice but to align with their abusers must be feeling right now. It breaks my heart. And.

I break my own heart each morning, now, to make more room for them. Their wounds and fears may have helped trap them there. My wounds and fears may have nailed one of their escape hatches shut. So, I break my own heart for those not connected to a world of loving possibilities and for those who have no better choice than to align with their abusers. They can show up to break my heart all they want. They will find that mine is already broken, and on their behalf. My mother, and the Alzheimer's disease that runs in our family, taught me how to do this.

I break my own heart each morning, now, to make more room for them.

So, for me. Now is not the time to get angry at human beings for being afraid. Not at neighbors on the ground. Not at real human beings screaming out into the void via comments sections or town halls or in grocery stores that they are losing their jobs or losing their healthcare or losing their children or losing their farms and homes or losing the ability to afford food and utilities. That is all of us good people, generous people: we, the non-billionaires, now.

Now is the time to hold far more of our fears together and to utterly surround those fears with all the beautiful things that sit at our core. And all the beautiful beings around us and all the beauty of the world we all call home.

Now is not the time to get angry at human beings for being afraid.

The worst abusers on earth get angry at human beings for being afraid. They get angry at people for having feelings and fears and basic needs and hopes for their future or children like all living beings do. Are we these abusers? No, we are not. They do not represent the people here. They do not represent any human being that I have ever met.

Whose fear is this? Whose emotion is this?

Most days now, I have to ask myself: Whose fear is this? Whose fear are we feeling today? When I feel fear to the point that I feel tense or cranky or despondent or full of dread or full of rage, I ask this question of myself or I share my thoughts with loved ones. In an ideal world, I'd ask or share my fears before or as I also listen, speak, create, write, talk with strangers. We don't live in an ideal world here. So, I ask this question often now, almost no matter where I am and whenever I feel safe enough and think clearly enough to ask it. Sometimes that's after I just yelled at a stranger, in public, online, who I assumed showed up to attack people I love or what we believe. Sometimes, I'm so scared by a threat online directed at me personally that I ask this question only after I've blocked that stranger. "Now is not the time to get angry at human beings for being afraid" has to apply to me too.

This question– whose emotion is this?– is one of the primary questions that an empath like me has to spend her whole life asking, again and again and again. I'm so sensitive to the emotions of others that without regular practice to differentiate my emotions from others, I can easily end up holding everyone's emotions in the space or place I'm in. I may come to feel that I am sad or exhausted or outraged or abused or hopeless or cruel or isolated or alone or even violent, when, in reality, it's somebody else in the space feeling that and little-old-empath-me has just absorbed that like a sponge again. For example, I've been physically dropped to the ground (at a farmer's market on a sunny day, no less) by the pain of hidden, monstrous abuse that a stranger nearby was holding within her. That one took several days for my family and I to unravel and understand. I lashed out at all men for 24 hours straight after that encounter. She never spoke a word directly to me. In this lifetime, I've never known pain like the pain she was silently holding beside me. I know at least one thing to be true now: some people walk this earth holding pain that's almost unimaginable to me.

So, if you haven't tried this before, before you ask yourself "What word sits at my core today?" ask this question first. Try it right now.

Whose fear am I feeling right now? Whose fear am I spreading around today? Is this my fear to hold? Mine to spread? Or do I need to let it go today?

Bounce those questions off of friends and loved ones, or even strangers too. We aren't always our own best mirrors, and we weren't built to figure everything out as individuals or even as families. Not when we're so much more than that!

Whose fear am I feeling right now? Whose fear am I spreading around right now? Is this my fear to hold? Mine to spread? Or do I need to let it go today?

A view from within and beyond this fear

Here's my take on this from within, and beyond, the U.S. right now. We imagination-centered folks can be everywhere at once, just like that. For a while there, I almost forgot that about us.

Humanity is being asked to hold the festering fears and pain of the last controlling men on planet earth who were abused horribly as children, who then remained isolated or always indulged as adults, and whose families also happened to be so exceedingly wealthy that these men never had to (and never got to) become anything beyond what they experienced as children at the hands of their abusers. They are trapped in a cycle of horrifying abuse and violence. To these men, "winning" means always moving as only an individual (nobody else can be fully trusted) and individually dominating, controlling, isolating, and cruelly wounding as many others as possible– aka, that "hard power" they talk about now, a term not a single amazing man I've met across my 54 years on earth has thought to need or use, let alone give a name to. Those of us with real friends and loving communities– people who both support us and help us grow by occasionally calling us on our delusions– don't need the abuse they're selling. It sounds like something a toddler would say or a completely out-of-control, imaginary movie character would say: "Hulk smash! Hard power! Bam! Bam! Bam!"

For these last few deeply wounded, isolated, over indulged, and ridiculously wealthy men, this is all they have to work with. This is it. Because their only imagined alternative is to be dominated, controlled, cruelly wounded, and isolated by others. Like they were as kids. Honestly, that breaks my heart too. Even as we all work together toward holding them accountable for the misery they're causing around the country and around the world.

A lot of us faced some sort of abuse and isolation as children and young adults. But to survive and thrive out here in non-billionaire land, most of the rest of us had to lean on each other for support, ask for and accept real help repeatedly, find true friends, join teams that stretched us and our imaginations, join support groups, find and build real community (people who care about you no matter what), pray, lean on mentors and teachers, create new healing rituals together, give up stale ways of thinking that no longer serve anyone, and/or find a great therapist. We had to be vulnerable and open, receiving and giving help, from people and beings of all ages. And as rewards for our trouble, we gained gratitude, new perspectives, humility, increasing connection and creativity, respect, love, curiosity, honesty, kindness, and so much more. How do I know this about you? Are you in a race to become the world's first trillionaire to prove something to other billionaires or dictators while people around the globe suffer and starve in your wake? Yeah, me neither.

The festering, always-there, fear and cruelty and violence of those "at the top" right now are really hard to hold for most of us. Why? Because our own emotional wounds and fears haven't stagnated and festered like that. Our wounds and fears have been surrounded with love, or community, or nature, or wonder, or God, or mystery, or courage, or personal and spiritual or community growth. It goes against our nature as living beings to be always spiteful, always cruel, always petty, and intentionally spreading pain and intentionally wounding others. To have zero empathy for the living. All of us. No matter what your beliefs or your political leaning or your place of origin or your gender identity or your age or your orientation or your skin color or your religion or your line of work or your species happens to be. Remember that when you feel outnumbered.

To me it now feels like almost the whole country, and much of the world too, is getting a similar lesson to the one I received at the farmers market that day years ago: the lesson that some people's story, and pain, and shame are so horrible and so deep and so hidden and so festering within them and their families that it can drop you to the ground in pain, without warning, if you come near it and if you try to hold it by yourself and figure it out alone.

This dread that we're holding. The dread that whispers: the whole country and the whole world are about to implode and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it. That is not my fear. It's not. That's likely not your fear, either. That is their fear. It is a fear of chronically abused and isolated children with no way out and with no help coming for them– ever. We are all being expected to hold their wounds and their worst fears now, while also holding the global chaos they're generating around themselves out across humanity because they're billionaire influencers. The rest of us are already out here working together to make the human world kinder, more generous, more fun, or somehow better than we found it. Those of us working together always have more choices than they do. These choices are great ones to think about right now:

Do I want to hold their fear today? Alone or with others? Or, do I want to return to my own center today? Return to who and what I'm truly here to hold and share out into the world. Allow everyone else to hold these billionaire's fears for a brief while so that I can tap out for a day or week or month to rest and recover?

This dread that we're holding. The dread that whispers: the whole country and the whole world are about to implode and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it. That is not my fear. It's not.

Some people have been fighting this fight for generations, not just decades or days.

As a friend and I reminded each other yesterday– yay Wednesdays!– the mountain of guilt that we were raised to feel as women (across so many cultures) is officially obsolete. We will do our best for our neighbors and selves and world, and when we rest and recharge, we will allow ourselves to feel the same amount of guilt that the globally abusive billionaires are feeling right now about shredding human rights, destroying the land, water, environment, and causing mass pain and fear. So that is, yes, you guessed it. That's roughly zero guilt we will be feeling going forward. 😄

When we're centered on who we are, and who and what we are here to love and hold and spread to others, we can rest. We can rest almost no matter what else we're doing or what others are doing, because we know our people have our backs. So many people have our backs now that I'm in an almost constant of awe right now, too. We have evolved friends. We truly have.

I believe that all good people, all loving people, all learning and growing and changing people, all people who reach out to help their neighbors even knowing they could be hurt themselves– which is almost all of us on earth now– are being asked to hold the still-festering and oozing childhood wounds and fears of a handful of uber-wealthy men who may refuse to ever get help or change as long as they're billionaires competing to become the world's first trillionaire. And as long as we don't love and respect them enough to hold them responsible and accountable for their worst actions. It doesn't bode well for their future that they now openly call 8.2 billion human beings "the parasite class" in person and on social media. But their future is not our future. Not by a long shot. Our future surrounds their fears and violence and even their genocides with a world of wonder and love.

Do I want to hold their fear today? Alone or with others? Or do I want to return to my own center?
Return to who and what I'm truly here to hold and share out into the world.

Imagine this

Even as the country or world or town or family around you apparently is growing angrier, meaner, more spiteful and pettier, and as more and more good people you love are being attacked and wounded by the always-angry billionaires who seem to only get angrier when they win, we have far more freedom than we imagine.

Imagine this.

This planet will only be moved, imagined, and reimagined by the lion-hearted, the loving, and by the deeply connected. That has always been true. That does not change. It's one reason why they stay so angry. And its why we may get angry and outraged often, but we never, ever have to stay stuck there.

Ten years ago, drawing on lessons learned from my own family's pain and from Mom and our family's Alzheimer's disease, I wrote a poem called "Hate Within Me Now Has a Three-Minute Shelf Life." Today, that's down to less than 1 minute most days. Here, hate knows her role now. She gets me off my ass, gets me re-centered on who and what I love most, she sometimes helps me triage who I talk with and listen to and work with, she can stop me from feeling too alone and sorry for myself, and she gets me moving. The moment I'm moving with wonder, curiosity, love, or community again, she sits back down. Her work here clearly done.

Even after a year of deep pain and loss and grief and fear and health crises for us personally, here in 2025 it took us less than six weeks in our small family to recenter our entire work schedules, and our play and rest schedules, to better center on the wonder and love at our core. And on the same within others. I had no idea we had this in us to do this so quickly. Who knew? Wonders never cease.

What's the word at your core right now?

You get to choose. You are among the remarkably lucky, the truly privileged, or the deeply blessed, if you prefer. You get to name the word at your core.

Choose wisely. Or choose weirdly. Wisely is responsible. Weirdly is fun. Both work.

Listen. What do you hear now?

When I can't choose wisely or weirdly alone, which is often, I've also learned to ask someone(s) who deeply love(s) me: What one word would you choose if you only got one word to describe me right now? Ask them. Even if they're way off base and you know it, you'll have been pushed closer to your own answer.

Choose wisely. Or choose weirdly.
Wisely is responsible. Weirdly is fun.
Both work.

What's your word?

Lastly, if you don't have it in you to choose today

Save these final words for the days you're too sad or exhausted or scared or defeated or outraged or hurting to get out of bed or off the couch or talk to anyone at all. We've had several of those days. Well, ok, weeks. Wait, no, we've actually had several months like this here across the past few years. Here's some sassy home wisdom from and for my couch-cushion-fort people...

Maybe, in a way, we don't get to choose the word at our core today. Not on our own anyway.

Because in our DNA is the entire life's work of those who already chose love, and those who already chose friendship, and those who chose wonder, those who chose caring for others, and those who chose humor, and those who made music or books or movies or other art we love, and those who chose learning, and those who tended wounds and cooked for people they loved and for people they didn't love too, and those who chose being one with or falling in love with the land, and growing plants, and those who rested and hid when they needed to rest and hide, and those who chose adventure and stillness both, and those who shared real joy and love on their phones, for us, even from within genocide zones, and those who chose being in love with life even when it was painful, and those who chose generosity, and those who gave their lives so we could be here feeling what we feel now, and those who chose to love who they really were and who their neighbors were even when it was dangerous to do so.

We are entirely made up of all those who chose not to give up on life, or on humanity, or on their neighbors, or on trying to do better for others and themselves than what had been done to them so that we can be here now, often feeling loved, and often or at least sometimes feeling safe, and often feeling feisty, and having the courage to join hands with others, including strangers, even in the present chaos.

Maybe this is even easier than our worn-down nervous systems and broken hearts and our momentarily abuse- and fear-centered brains think it is. Maybe by already being the sum total of all the amazing beings who came before us, and all the amazing beings around us now (dogs and cats and plants count even if people can't right now), we already know what word lives at our core today without having to choose it ourselves at all. The choice has been made. We are that choice. Their choice.

What's that word? Or group of words?

You don't have to say it out loud or talk about it before you are ready. Or even name your blog after it. Hell, if I'd named this blog on a Monday this month it would have been called What In The Actual Holy Fucking Hellscape Now?! instead of Wonders Never Cease. ;-)

We just have to be it. Be that word or those words. Be that choice. The choice of the living. Be a little bit more of your true, real, loves-to-be-living self each day that you can. In every moment you feel safe or brave enough to do so. Rest when you can't be. All beings need ample rest. Guilt about rest is baggage you can drop.

We are entirely made up of all those who chose not to give up on life, and on humanity, and on trying to do better for others than what had been done to them so that we can be here now, often feeling loved, and often or sometimes feeling safe, and having the courage to join hands with others even in the present chaos.

We don't just stand on the shoulders of giants. We hold a whole world of loving, creative, and ridiculously stubborn and life-loving giants within us and around us. We are alive today because of their choices and their faith and their strength and their love and their courage.

All that's left to do now, friends, is to shift your weekly routine a bit.

Create a weekly routine that better supports you, so that you forget the miracle you truly are far less often during these difficult, global-pain-centered days. Create this routine without the guilt of the past. Your routine will make your remarkably beautiful possibilities into the remarkably beautiful realities we all deeply need. Thank you for staying in bed, and on the couch, long enough to figure this out.