There’s a moment when the sun slips below the horizon, and for a while, the world is caught in an in-between place—not fully day, not fully night. Shadows stretch long, and the familiar takes on an uncertain shape. It’s a moment of disorientation, of tension. Of waiting.
For many, the world feels like that right now—a dimming of something we once relied on, a shift we can’t quite name but feel deep in our bones. Some are afraid because history has shown them what happens when the light fades. Some are exhausted from holding the weight of injustice for too long. Some are frozen, unsure whether to run, to fight, or to simply endure.
Let’s not pretend this fear isn’t real. Let’s not rush to quiet the discomfort. When people say they’re afraid, unheard, unseen—we don’t soothe them by saying, it’s not so bad. We hold the lantern with them. We listen. We stay present.
Fear can make us feel powerless, but it also reminds us of what matters. It calls us toward something. The question isn’t whether we feel fear—it’s what we do with it.
Do we let it swallow us?
Do we push it down, pretending it isn’t there?
Or do we let it be the signal fire that calls us to action?
Because even in the darkest moments, there are people who light the way. People who speak up, who build, who refuse to let silence be the final word. And sometimes, action doesn’t have to be grand—it can be a quiet, steady refusal to be broken. A choice to care. A decision to stand, to help, to reach for another hand in the dark.
A Mindful Practice: Holding the Lantern
Find a comfortable place to sit. Take a deep breath in through your nose, and exhale slowly through your mouth. Close your eyes if that feels safe.
Imagine yourself holding a lantern. The light inside is small but steady. It’s yours to carry, yours to tend.
Now, think of the people who have lit your way—those who have stood beside you, those who have fought before you, those who have helped you feel seen. One by one, picture them placing their hands over yours, steadying your grip on the lantern.
You are not alone.
Breathe in the warmth of that light. Breathe in the strength of those who walk this path with you.
Now, ask yourself: Where do I want to shine this light?
Maybe it’s toward your own heart, offering yourself compassion.
Maybe it’s toward someone who needs to be heard.
Maybe it’s toward a cause that calls to you.
Whatever it is, breathe it in. Let it settle in your chest. And when you open your eyes, take that light with you.
Because no matter how dark it gets, you are part of something greater. And together, we are not lost. We are finding our way.
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