Do Not Lose Heart: We Were Made for These Times
The Trump administration has just begun, and already, the decisions around DEI initiatives, immigration and ICE policies, and LGBTQ+ rights have been both disappointing and, quite frankly, sickening to me. This week has been hard to stomach. As the waves of political and social upheaval rise, I’ve found myself turning back to a quote I’ve loved since 2015. Whenever I feel disheartened, angry, or confused, these words have served as a lighthouse in the storm:
"Do not lose heart. We were made for these times."
For those of us deeply invested in justice, compassion, and progress, the start of this administration feels like the opening of a terrifying repeat in history. The decisions being made echo the early warning signs of past atrocities, drawing unsettling parallels to what we’ve seen before. It’s bewildering and exhausting, a season that will undoubtedly test the spirit. As I sit with the discomfort and anger of these moments, I can’t help but wonder:
How do we keep going? How do we make a difference when the challenges ahead feel so overwhelming and insurmountable?
This quote—these beautiful, defiant words by Clarissa Pinkola Estés—has offered a light in the shadows. She writes,
"Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times.
The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these, to be fierce and to show mercy toward others, both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity."
When it feels like the entire world is fraying, we must remind ourselves that we were not meant to carry it all. Instead, we are called to mend what is directly before us: to care for our communities, to hold space for those in need, and to light a path with the brilliance of our own souls.
Through my own journey of healing and navigating life’s challenges, I’ve come to focus on the importance of staying soft and living in love. It’s not always easy, especially in moments of pain or confusion. A song I love talks about this - Ben Rector’s More Like Love. These lyrics always ground me:
"I just wanna look more like love
This whole world is spinning crazy
And I can't quite keep up
It’s one thing around here that we don't have quite enough of
So I just wanna look a little more like love."
It’s natural to want to put up walls when I’m feeling hurt, scared, or confused, and I know I’m not alone in that instinct. But as I’ve gotten older, I try to lean into the pain instead of pushing it away or pretending it’s not there. I’ve found that moving through it—rather than around it—is what brings me closer to love. Staying soft has been the undercurrent of my life. My pain has made me softer, not harder, and that softness has taught me how to hold hope, even when it feels impossibly fragile.
(I wrote this on a bathroom wall in LA in 2017)
The enormity of systemic problems can lead to paralysis—an overwhelming sense that no matter what we do, it will never be enough. But as Estés reminds us, "the light of the soul throws sparks." In small, deliberate acts of love and courage, we can ignite flares of hope in the darkness. These acts don’t have to be grand. They can look like calling your friend, holding the door for someone, or lending your voice to a cause that matters to you.
Over the past several years, I’ve learned to focus not on the storm itself but on what I can do to steady the small corner of the world within my reach. I try and show up for the people I love. I lean into educating myself. I turn to creativity and self-expression to soothe my soul.
To those feeling overwhelmed by the state of the world, I offer this reminder: your light matters. Your soul matters. Stand up, show your soul, and trust that your spark, however small it may feel, contributes to a greater fire of hope and change. Together, our collective light is powerful enough to shift even the heaviest darkness.
And so, as we face what lies ahead, I leave you with this invitation: Let’s not spend our spirits dry. Let’s stay fierce, compassionate, and hopeful. Let’s lean into softness and keep looking a little more like love.
These are shadowy times, yes—but we were made for them.
