Reflect

In his book In the Absence of the Ordinary, Francis Weller writes, “We possess the profound capacity to metabolize sorrow into something medicinal for our soul and the soul of the community.” Sorrow into medicine — now that’s an alchemy to embrace and a possibility to live into. But for many of us, our sorrow about the fractured world becomes stagnant, either because we suppress it (“I just can’t watch the news anymore”) or it paralyzes us (“I don’t know what to do”). But if we are willing to feel our sorrow and grief, to unpack it and let it take up space, to face it and give it words, it can provide both energy and guidance in the face of destruction. It doesn’t mean it’s not painful. It doesn’t mean that sorrow and grief are easy gifts. But we feel them for a reason, and, when it comes to the struggles of our communities and the world, we have the capacity to turn them into medicine.