Tranquil Resources

Tag: Democracy

  • Light A Candle For Democracy

    Light a Candle for Minnesota

    My heart pounds. My eyes cry.
    I have grandchildren who expect to grow up in a safe world. They deserve that. We promise them that.

    But right now, in Minneapolis, that promise feels fragile—shaken by ongoing violence involving federal agents and civilians. In just the past few weeks, federal immigration agents have shot and killed at least two people during operations in the city, including a 37-year-old man in south Minneapolis this Saturday..

    These are agents supposedly sent to “keep the streets safe.”
    Yet people are dying on those streets.
    Homes surrounded. Doors broken in.
    Protests rising.
    Tear gas deployed.
    Tensions flaring.

    America is at war with itself.

    I see masked agents armed with weapons.
    I see people in the streets trying to protect their communities.
    I see Fear. Grief. Anger.

    How did we get here?
    What kind of anger drives people to strike before they listen?
    What hunger for power requires another’s suffering?

    And so I turn to the Monks’ Walk for Peace. I want to walk with them. Their message of compassion and love is where I find my calm. Still, I struggle. How does one remain compassionate now? How do I walk in quiet love yet insist on accountability for violence?

    I want peace returned to this country I love—
    not the absence of struggle,
    but the presence of justice, dignity, and safety for all.

    I want my grandchildren to grow up in a world where leaders protect life, not devalue it.
    Where disagreement does not turn into violence.
    Where service means safety for everyone, not fear for some.

    This feels like a turning point. Democracy itself is at stake. Republicans have the power to stop this right now, and I am pleading with them to do so—before our country is pushed further toward fascism.

    For now, I light a candle for Minnesota.
    And for our country.
    And I pray.

    Sweet land of liberty.
    Let freedom ring.

    Walk With The Monks – Walk For Peace

  • Between The Tides

    Between the Tides

    Yesterday, we stood in protest.
    We stood because an attempted takeover of democracy—fueled by hatred and power over others—is not the country we want to be. It is not the story we choose to tell about ourselves.

    Today, the sky is hazy.
    The air feels heavy with questions that have no easy answers. Tension hums beneath everything, like a low, constant vibration.

    And I feel guilty.

    Guilty for sitting in a place where richness surrounds me—
    in flowers and birds,
    in air scented with eucalyptus and lavender and lemons,
    where people pass by with their dogs, simply going about their day.

    The ocean keeps its rhythm.
    Waves roll in, then pull back again.
    High tide. Low tide.
    A steady, ancient consistency in an otherwise tumultuous time.

    Across the country, a Peace March continues.
    A group of monks walking every day now passing through North Carolina, making their way toward Washington, DC,
    with a single intention: to spread the message of peace.

    Their march is not loud.
    They simply walk.

    And as they pass, crowds form—
    people drawn to their message.
    They offer the monks flowers and thank them for their presence.
    For their quiet courage of putting one foot in front of the other,
    day after day. It’s disorienting—this contrast between the beauty of the moment and the weight of the world. Between the urgency to resist and the quiet message of peace. But somehow both need to exist right now.

    It’s in all of these thoughts that my resolve is replenished.
    Where I remember what we are trying to protect.
    Not just systems and structures—but mornings like this, shared air, ordinary walks, the right to move freely and live gently.

    The monks walk.
    The tides turn.
    The work continues.

    Nothing stays fixed forever.
    And yet, some things endure.

    Today, I sit in the in-between—
    holding grief and gratitude, anger and awe,
    watching the waves,
    reminding myself, again, to believe that peace is not passive—
    it is practiced.