When Resistance Looks Like Breathing

Lately, I’ve been having more of those deep, soul-worn conversations—the kind that unfold slowly, with sighs and pauses, over the sound of the world spinning a little too fast.

I’ve talked with a woman who’s now afraid to visit her family abroad, unsure if her green card will protect her when she returns. Another just lost work due to shifting tariffs that made her livelihood unsustainable. Someone else shared—quietly, like a confession—that she doesn’t know how to explain America’s policies to her children anymore, but she also can’t seem to look away.

It’s grief. It’s fear. It’s anger.
It’s feeling like you’re watching the ground shift while trying to hold your people steady.

And in that space, I came back to Meta Herrick Carlson’s “A Blessing for Daily Resistance.”
Her words feel like a gentle companion on the road we’re all walking:

“I am overwhelmed by the weight of pain out there,
afraid to feel, more afraid of the dull stupor…”

Yes. Exactly that. That temptation to turn it off, to pull the blankets over our heads and let the world shrink until it feels safe again.

But her blessing doesn’t leave us there.

“Thank God for the daily tasks…where we rub shoulders and whisper
peace, shalom, salaam…”

This is where I find life again—in the mundane, in the communal, in the wildly courageous act of still showing up. Making dinner. Saying hello. Holding eye contact. Calling your representatives. Lighting a candle. Walking into a crowded room with your heart wide open.

These are not small things.
They are acts of resistance.

Because when the world feels unbearable, our refusal to go numb is its own quiet revolution.
When we make space for others—even strangers—to belong, we reclaim what fear has tried to steal.

“…we practice loving one another
as acts of daily resistance.”

So if you’re tired, you’re not alone.
If you’re angry or undone or holding more than your fair share of sorrow—you're not broken. You’re awake.

And that is holy.

So breathe deeply.
Speak the blessing out loud.
Say your prayers in every language your spirit holds.
Let them fall back to the earth like soft rain.
Then rise. Again. Still.

In love,
In hope,
In resistance.

This blessing comes from Ordinary Blessings: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Everyday Life by Meta Herrick Carlson. You can learn more about her on her website: https://www.metaherrickcarlson.com