Resilience—Moving Forward — An introduction
Our call for ideas on how best to move forward in these challenging times listed many of the challenges facing people of the United States and reverberating around the world. It’s a daunting list, and the call resulted in an outpouring of comments ranging from angry and frustrated to hopeful and determined. Some letters encompassed all of these. “It’s all I can do to keep from simply curling up into a ball with the covers pulled up and praying that, when I wake up three and a half years from now, it will all have been a bad dream,” writes Persimmon Tree community member Sharon Lee Harkey of Brooklyn, New York. But rather than giving in to despair, she helps lead a postcard-writing group, “running the meetings, writing a weekly newsletter.” She and the other group members “keep each other going through companionship, caring, and love for our country and democracy… one day at a time, one postcard at a time.”
“Preserving our fragile democracy demands all hands on deck. Even wrinkly ones,” writes Melinda Halpert of Washington, D.C. “For me, action is an antidote to despair,” she continues. “I’m no Pollyanna, but each day I try to do something meaningful… Every gesture of kindness, decency, and generosity becomes an act of defiance and hope.” Joan Hyams Schmitz of West Chester, Ohio, agrees. She has been “making a concerted effort to spread joy, thoughtfulness, and kinship wherever I go.” And, she reports, “My social experiment in choosing people over politics, love over fear is producing promising results.”
Julia Griffin of Laxfield, Suffolk, UK, believes that “one of the most important things we can all do” in the face of these multiple challenges, “is look within ourselves for inner strength and be true to who we are.” Catherine Bourassa of Trumbull, Connecticut, uses what she has learned from meditation—chiefly the art of “pausing”— to find that strength and use it to benefit others. Pausing, she writes, “helps me to deeply listen to people I may disagree with and to be responsive and not reactive… to pay attention non-judgmentally.”
While Mary Hiland of Gahanna, Ohio, also believes that kindness is key—that, particularly in the face of current U.S. anti-immigrant policies, it’s important “to make people welcome in our homes and in our country”—she also voices the anger and frustration so many of our correspondents feel: “Do the words on the Statue of Liberty mean nothing anymore? I feel a need to do something, but what can I do? I have signed petitions, made calls, and written letters to my Congress members, as so many others have, but I feel that we are banging our heads against a wall.”
Yet she, and the others whose letters you will read in this Forum, continue to look for ways to better our troubled world. Some note the importance of the arts and education and their determination to act in those arenas. Others speak of the importance of courage and persistence—remembering how those qualities were essential to achieving such hallmarks as the creation of the United States and the European Union, the end of public slave markets, and the expansion of civil rights. They are tributes to resilience, and the determination to move toward a better world despite all the harrowing obstacles in our path.
We invite our readers to add their thoughts to this discussion via the Comment field at the end of this page.
I have been marching, collecting signatures, signing petitions, sending small contributions to candidates who have a chance of winning. These are the right things to do but, frankly, none of them makes me feel optimistic.
It is on the Tuesday mornings that I spend at the International Welcome School that I feel hopeful. This public school, located in a working-class suburb, serves middle- and high-school kids who are recent arrivals from Latin America. The kids are often sleepy because their school day begins at 7a.m. When they leave school at 2, many go to work. They wash dishes, lay floors, and clean houses until late in the evening.
An atmosphere of kindness pervades the school. One teacher is a native speaker of Spanish and the rest try hard to speak Spanish when it is helpful. Throughout the school there is Latin American art. “America is a Country of Immigrants” posters hang on the walls. There are stuffed animals and blankets that kids can cuddle when they feel stressed. One teacher addresses her students as “panditas,” meaning little pandas or scholars. The kids, who have endured great hardship and may endure more, are continually reminded that they are loved.
It is on the Tuesday mornings that I spend at the International Welcome School that I feel hopeful. This public school, located in a working-class suburb, serves middle- and high-school kids who are recent arrivals from Latin America. The kids are often sleepy because their school day begins at 7a.m. When they leave school at 2, many go to work. They wash dishes, lay floors, and clean houses until late in the evening.
An atmosphere of kindness pervades the school. One teacher is a native speaker of Spanish and the rest try hard to speak Spanish when it is helpful. Throughout the school there is Latin American art. “America is a Country of Immigrants” posters hang on the walls. There are stuffed animals and blankets that kids can cuddle when they feel stressed. One teacher addresses her students as “panditas,” meaning little pandas or scholars. The kids, who have endured great hardship and may endure more, are continually reminded that they are loved.
St. Louis, MO
They would like you to think that you are a lone voice of dissent. But you are not. They would like you to believe that everyone else is supporting these edicts and changes. But they are not.
Stand firm, find likeminded people and take back control. Create your own network if necessary. Man the barricades, write to your congressman, make art, create, and bring these abuses out into the open. The removal of freedoms and the destruction of lives thrive on secrecy, so let’s force them out into the open. It has never been so important for dissenting voices to be heard, especially your voice. But they may fight dirty so be careful and take care of yourself and your family.
Call them to account. They want you to feel helpless in the face of such unrelenting change and the tearing down of hard won and cherished freedoms. Bear witness and record what is happening for the future, both in your neighborhood and the wider world. These forces of malevolence thrive on secrecy and fear, so let’s make a monsoon rain on their parade.
Stand firm, find likeminded people and take back control. Create your own network if necessary. Man the barricades, write to your congressman, make art, create, and bring these abuses out into the open. The removal of freedoms and the destruction of lives thrive on secrecy, so let’s force them out into the open. It has never been so important for dissenting voices to be heard, especially your voice. But they may fight dirty so be careful and take care of yourself and your family.
Call them to account. They want you to feel helpless in the face of such unrelenting change and the tearing down of hard won and cherished freedoms. Bear witness and record what is happening for the future, both in your neighborhood and the wider world. These forces of malevolence thrive on secrecy and fear, so let’s make a monsoon rain on their parade.
Margate, Kent, UK
Resilience? I Prefer Courage
Resilience, the ability to bounce back from hardship, adapt to challenges, cope and grow stronger, is important at any age, and certainly for those of us sixty and older. But if there be another word as important, and as needed in today’s world, I’d say the word is courage. Why?
Courage is an antidote to fear and powerlessness and a prime mover toward believing (understanding) that whatever our age, we still have the right to become whatever that may be for each of us.
In a recent essay (“Aging in A Trump World,” Nation Magazine, 11/25) I spoke of the fearlessness of aging British women bonding together to shout in public their righteous beliefs about what they deserved: Quality of life, shelter, comfort, and the right to earned rest after years of working. It was the courage of their convictions that bound them together to express their needs, and to do so in solidarity with other aging women. Emulating such actions helps to obliterate some of the powerlessness that creeps into aging.
To accept that we are still becoming and not only marching toward the end zone is courageous at any age, but especially now when, like time itself, aging simply continues.
Resilience, the ability to bounce back from hardship, adapt to challenges, cope and grow stronger, is important at any age, and certainly for those of us sixty and older. But if there be another word as important, and as needed in today’s world, I’d say the word is courage. Why?
Courage is an antidote to fear and powerlessness and a prime mover toward believing (understanding) that whatever our age, we still have the right to become whatever that may be for each of us.
In a recent essay (“Aging in A Trump World,” Nation Magazine, 11/25) I spoke of the fearlessness of aging British women bonding together to shout in public their righteous beliefs about what they deserved: Quality of life, shelter, comfort, and the right to earned rest after years of working. It was the courage of their convictions that bound them together to express their needs, and to do so in solidarity with other aging women. Emulating such actions helps to obliterate some of the powerlessness that creeps into aging.
To accept that we are still becoming and not only marching toward the end zone is courageous at any age, but especially now when, like time itself, aging simply continues.
New York, NY
Perhaps resilience requires reflection, from a suite of photographs by Merry Song
Teaching by Stealth
As women elders having lived through the tumult of the twentieth century, we know how change happens. Life experience assures that this too shall pass—and, as creative activists of the twenty-first century, we will balance hope for the future against the socio-political, cultural horror presently unfolding by endeavoring to bring change faster. How? By reaching out to generations X, Y, & Z, whose life experience is less about connecting people to people, and more about connecting to chatbots through cell phones.
I want to be a real time and space influencer. Come 2026, I will be reaching out to my local public schools and libraries, seeking opportunities to teach writing and close reading (and, by stealth, socializing) to younger generations. I will donate my time to the cause of bringing youth together with writers and poets, artists, actors, and other creatives who care about the future we want for them—a future they may not even realize is available to them.
Maya Angelou said, “The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise.”
We are women elders who can bring our wisdom to the front lines of the future we’re fighting for.
As women elders having lived through the tumult of the twentieth century, we know how change happens. Life experience assures that this too shall pass—and, as creative activists of the twenty-first century, we will balance hope for the future against the socio-political, cultural horror presently unfolding by endeavoring to bring change faster. How? By reaching out to generations X, Y, & Z, whose life experience is less about connecting people to people, and more about connecting to chatbots through cell phones.
I want to be a real time and space influencer. Come 2026, I will be reaching out to my local public schools and libraries, seeking opportunities to teach writing and close reading (and, by stealth, socializing) to younger generations. I will donate my time to the cause of bringing youth together with writers and poets, artists, actors, and other creatives who care about the future we want for them—a future they may not even realize is available to them.
Maya Angelou said, “The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise.”
We are women elders who can bring our wisdom to the front lines of the future we’re fighting for.
Santa Rosa, CA
There’s a lot of discussion recently about what to place in classrooms for all to see. If I were bold enough to suggest something special be placed in classrooms and elsewhere, it would be things encouraging us to try to make a difference in others’ lives. We may not be successful, but I think it’s important that we try.
How can we make a difference? Pick up an extra something when we shop and bring it to someone else. Tell people who’ve been special how special they’ve been so they know their kindness was seen, appreciated, and needed. If someone new comes to a meeting, try to make them feel welcome. If someone moves to the area and knows no one, help them meet others. If someone is struggling, try to help. Give hugs to those who need them. If people need to talk, listen non-judgmentally. We often underestimate our ability to make a difference in others’ lives, but I think we all possess the potential to do so. There are many ways we can make the world a little better. It’s just up to each of us to figure out how.
How can we make a difference? Pick up an extra something when we shop and bring it to someone else. Tell people who’ve been special how special they’ve been so they know their kindness was seen, appreciated, and needed. If someone new comes to a meeting, try to make them feel welcome. If someone moves to the area and knows no one, help them meet others. If someone is struggling, try to help. Give hugs to those who need them. If people need to talk, listen non-judgmentally. We often underestimate our ability to make a difference in others’ lives, but I think we all possess the potential to do so. There are many ways we can make the world a little better. It’s just up to each of us to figure out how.
Houston, TX
Last summer one of my long-time students approached me and wanted to brainstorm what we as a strong writing community could do, how we could spread wider ripples, strengthen the volume of our voices. Out of that meeting, the day after the 4th of July, our We Declare project was born:
We Declare is a storytelling project for these times, amplifying compelling voices with the goal of building greater community through increased understanding and empathy.
When our federal government threatens to silence and censor free speech, We Declare is an act of rebellion to speak out; when they seek to divide us, we stand together; when they spread hate, we listen to one another with love and respect.
2026 marks two anniversaries: the 250th of the Declaration of Independence, and the 20th of Ellen Schmidt’s Ithaca-based Writing Room community.
From across the U.S. and 15 other countries, 100+ people have participated in Ellen Schmidt’s classes. Some have moved far away; we’ve seen each other through illnesses, births, deaths, and a pandemic. We’ve learned the power of expressing ourselves and listening deeply to one another through the gift of writing.
In the lead-up to July 2026, participating writers are creating short pieces in response to brief phrases from the Declaration of Independence. These pieces are not editorials, but provide a snapshot into this moment in American history, a period with uncanny parallels to 1776. We will share them in live and online readings, print and digital publications.
We Declare is a storytelling project for these times, amplifying compelling voices with the goal of building greater community through increased understanding and empathy.
When our federal government threatens to silence and censor free speech, We Declare is an act of rebellion to speak out; when they seek to divide us, we stand together; when they spread hate, we listen to one another with love and respect.
2026 marks two anniversaries: the 250th of the Declaration of Independence, and the 20th of Ellen Schmidt’s Ithaca-based Writing Room community.
From across the U.S. and 15 other countries, 100+ people have participated in Ellen Schmidt’s classes. Some have moved far away; we’ve seen each other through illnesses, births, deaths, and a pandemic. We’ve learned the power of expressing ourselves and listening deeply to one another through the gift of writing.
In the lead-up to July 2026, participating writers are creating short pieces in response to brief phrases from the Declaration of Independence. These pieces are not editorials, but provide a snapshot into this moment in American history, a period with uncanny parallels to 1776. We will share them in live and online readings, print and digital publications.
Ithaca, NY
When I look at Persimmon Tree’s bulleted list [in the call for comments to this Forum]—assaults, threats, detention and deportation, occupation, rising costs imperiling essentially everything—I am reminded of how important it is to counteract these negatives with positives. Writing is one such positive, reading is another, and taking writing and reading out into our communities is a third. We writers tend to isolate, but we need to counteract that, too. We need to read to others who cannot read and would like to hear the human voice directly, not through audio, wonderful though that is. We need to be a guide on the side as others learn to read. We can teach writing to help people express their feelings through the written medium. We can do so much to promote writing and reading outside ourselves. And perhaps, we can report on these activities through Persimmon Tree.
Santa Rosa, CA
Perhaps resilience requires reflection, from a suite of photographs by Merry Song
Setting: America, early 1770.
More than 2,000 British troops occupied the streets of Boston, Massachusetts, as American colonists protested against repressive taxes – the Townsend Act and the Stamp Act. Tensions continued between these two groups, and on March 5,1770, the Boston massacre occurred.
Setting: America, 2025 – more than 250 years later.
Troops occupy U.S. streets once again. However, they are not being sent by the British government, and Americans are not protesting repressive taxes. They are sent by a president who argues, according to Kayla Epstein of the BBC, “that his use of the troops is necessary to quell violence in Democratic-controlled cities, crack down on crime and support his deportation initiatives.” As a result, the National Guard and U.S. Marines have patrolled such cities as Los Angeles, San Francisco, New Orleans, Washington, D.C., Chicago, and Memphis.
This is history repeating itself.
But violence is not the answer.
This occupation can only be changed through peaceful protests, learning what our constitutional rights are, joining civil liberties organizations, documenting military personnel who are involved in law enforcement abuses, and helping our neighbors who are being targeted issues that were not around in 1770. This is how we can make a difference.
More than 2,000 British troops occupied the streets of Boston, Massachusetts, as American colonists protested against repressive taxes – the Townsend Act and the Stamp Act. Tensions continued between these two groups, and on March 5,1770, the Boston massacre occurred.
Setting: America, 2025 – more than 250 years later.
Troops occupy U.S. streets once again. However, they are not being sent by the British government, and Americans are not protesting repressive taxes. They are sent by a president who argues, according to Kayla Epstein of the BBC, “that his use of the troops is necessary to quell violence in Democratic-controlled cities, crack down on crime and support his deportation initiatives.” As a result, the National Guard and U.S. Marines have patrolled such cities as Los Angeles, San Francisco, New Orleans, Washington, D.C., Chicago, and Memphis.
This is history repeating itself.
But violence is not the answer.
This occupation can only be changed through peaceful protests, learning what our constitutional rights are, joining civil liberties organizations, documenting military personnel who are involved in law enforcement abuses, and helping our neighbors who are being targeted issues that were not around in 1770. This is how we can make a difference.
Los Angeles, CA
For me, making a difference starts with a conversation and a belief that conversations lead to action. Small actions build into bigger actions, and finally movements that the world cannot ignore. The conversation needs to be informed and based in fact, so I read—even positions that I may not agree with—and I listen, ideally with an open mind.
Actions? Some say that the protests don’t matter. I disagree. I’ve been to seven protests since the government “reconfiguration” began last January. During the October “No Kings” protest my partner and I wore media tags and interviewed people. (I wrote about this in my Substack.) During the protest, I connected with an immigrant support group. I live in a small city in a blue state, and we haven’t experienced ICE bigtime, but we intend to be ready.
More actions: I volunteer at a community kitchen. I donate to organizations. I call my representatives on a regular basis, and I call out those representatives who allow the rule-of-law to be crushed by an autocratic government.
Actions? Some say that the protests don’t matter. I disagree. I’ve been to seven protests since the government “reconfiguration” began last January. During the October “No Kings” protest my partner and I wore media tags and interviewed people. (I wrote about this in my Substack.) During the protest, I connected with an immigrant support group. I live in a small city in a blue state, and we haven’t experienced ICE bigtime, but we intend to be ready.
More actions: I volunteer at a community kitchen. I donate to organizations. I call my representatives on a regular basis, and I call out those representatives who allow the rule-of-law to be crushed by an autocratic government.
Ithaca, NY
Two thread leaf maples thrive at the edge of my patio, resilient “rescues” from a south Alabama nursery. We purchased them dirt cheap after each lost its central limb to Hurricane Frederick in September 1979.
These trees are now magnificent. Their lacy leaves glow green in spring, then transform themselves to luminous orange in the fall. It is, however, in the damp discontent of winter that I admire their laid-bare structure and appreciate how well each has compensated, creating an upward and outward path that circumvents its damaged stump.
Americans need now to circumvent the damaged stump of our democracy. We must find and follow an upward path that rescues our resilience. Here are a few suggestions:
These trees are now magnificent. Their lacy leaves glow green in spring, then transform themselves to luminous orange in the fall. It is, however, in the damp discontent of winter that I admire their laid-bare structure and appreciate how well each has compensated, creating an upward and outward path that circumvents its damaged stump.
Americans need now to circumvent the damaged stump of our democracy. We must find and follow an upward path that rescues our resilience. Here are a few suggestions:
- Create or increase your pledge to public radio and television.
- Visit National Parks on Juneteenth and MLK, Jr.’s birthday.
- Purchase banned books that interest you.
- Support teachers, especially those who nurture special-needs students.
- Participate in peaceful protests to make them large enough they cannot be ignored.
- Vote, no matter how inconvenient or useless it may seem.
- Treat everyone, including those with whom you disagree, with kindness and civil language.
Such resilience could transform our damp discontent with glorious sunshine.
Birmingham, AL
In our current national crisis where norms are tossed and trampled, I think of what we women can uniquely do, what we have practiced since the beginning of time. The first thing is, we give birth. We birth humans, ideas, concepts, and creative possibility. We bring them into being, then we nurture and guide them. We care for what we love.
Look at these broad hips and muscles that are deceptively strong. We are built for hard times and for this work of restoration and resilience, remembering that everyone is valued, belongs, and is designed to help care for the planet that sustains us.
Even as we age, our determination to protect the vulnerable and what we most value remains a vigorous part of our being as well as our heritage. We must call upon what we know and value, bring it into the light, then reach out to one another with purpose and passion, reimagining a healthy world and restoring hope. Together, as bearers of life, we can nurture, strategize, and act, to find not only common ground, but solid ground, where it is safe to be who and where we all are, doing what we can do.
Look at these broad hips and muscles that are deceptively strong. We are built for hard times and for this work of restoration and resilience, remembering that everyone is valued, belongs, and is designed to help care for the planet that sustains us.
Even as we age, our determination to protect the vulnerable and what we most value remains a vigorous part of our being as well as our heritage. We must call upon what we know and value, bring it into the light, then reach out to one another with purpose and passion, reimagining a healthy world and restoring hope. Together, as bearers of life, we can nurture, strategize, and act, to find not only common ground, but solid ground, where it is safe to be who and where we all are, doing what we can do.
Corvallis, OR
We have three primary tools at our disposal: our bodies/presence (e.g., at protests), financial resources, and voices. Our voices are a powerful tool that can be used in a myriad of places, in a myriad of ways.
A few ideas: Contact your Members of Congress often. We’re in a crisis, a national emergency. The rules of engagement with Congress are out the window. Contact leaders of the House and Senate, leaders of committees, or to encourage other specific Members to act.
Write officers and board members of Avelo Airlines, which has a contract with the government to deport immigrants… also, departments of government such as the Social Security Administration… and governors, to discourage allowing airlines to deport immigrants from our airports, as in North Carolina and Louisiana. Also, write letters-to-the-editor.
Several organizations have created “Know Your Rights” materials, available online, including wallet cards. Print them and hand them to every Latino person you meet. Leave stacks in Latino places of business. We’ve done this in North Carolina and found that everyone, without exception, is grateful to have them.
Speak up in public. Have a conversation about what is going on that other people can overhear.
A few ideas: Contact your Members of Congress often. We’re in a crisis, a national emergency. The rules of engagement with Congress are out the window. Contact leaders of the House and Senate, leaders of committees, or to encourage other specific Members to act.
Write officers and board members of Avelo Airlines, which has a contract with the government to deport immigrants… also, departments of government such as the Social Security Administration… and governors, to discourage allowing airlines to deport immigrants from our airports, as in North Carolina and Louisiana. Also, write letters-to-the-editor.
Several organizations have created “Know Your Rights” materials, available online, including wallet cards. Print them and hand them to every Latino person you meet. Leave stacks in Latino places of business. We’ve done this in North Carolina and found that everyone, without exception, is grateful to have them.
Speak up in public. Have a conversation about what is going on that other people can overhear.
Greensboro, NC
[Editor’s note: Caroline Cottom also reports that she has “organized a small group, now 15 people, called Sowing Circle, that meets twice a month and supports members in taking action. Members love it!”]
[Editor’s note: Caroline Cottom also reports that she has “organized a small group, now 15 people, called Sowing Circle, that meets twice a month and supports members in taking action. Members love it!”]
Perhaps resilience requires reflection, from a suite of photographs by Merry Song
My email signature includes Joe Hill’s farewell to Bill Haywood: “Don’t mourn, organize!” It is mostly there as a reminder to myself that intellectual, verbal, even economic support is not enough. One must do. With others.
So since 2023, I have become: a co-founder and volunteer leader of the Canvassing Connectors, which deep canvasses in the Lehigh Valley, PA, to get the vote out; a co-founder and volunteer leader of Signs of the Times, which mobilizes hunter-gatherers throughout the country to capture protest signs and the stories behind them\and posts them on social media; a member of my Bronx neighborhood rapid response team to push back against ICE and educate local businesses about how to protect their employees. [Click here to check out or join Canvassing Connectors, and here to see the protest signs captured by Signs of the Times.]
To balance all that, I make time to walk in nature, play with my cats, read and eat/drink/talk/look at art/attend movies and plays/laugh with beloved friends and family. Sometimes, I just stare out the window.
So since 2023, I have become: a co-founder and volunteer leader of the Canvassing Connectors, which deep canvasses in the Lehigh Valley, PA, to get the vote out; a co-founder and volunteer leader of Signs of the Times, which mobilizes hunter-gatherers throughout the country to capture protest signs and the stories behind them\and posts them on social media; a member of my Bronx neighborhood rapid response team to push back against ICE and educate local businesses about how to protect their employees. [Click here to check out or join Canvassing Connectors, and here to see the protest signs captured by Signs of the Times.]
To balance all that, I make time to walk in nature, play with my cats, read and eat/drink/talk/look at art/attend movies and plays/laugh with beloved friends and family. Sometimes, I just stare out the window.
Bronx, NY
In April, I joined the crowd in Oakland for the “Hands Off” protest. Rhonda, a dear friend, joined the rally in a neighboring city. A few days before, she’d texted several women:
“How about gathering at my house after the protests to do some crafting and talking?”
She attached a photo of her dining room table set up with notebooks, scissors, colored pencils, magazines, and glue sticks.
“I think we call it Rage Crafting.”
Eight of us showed up that evening and talked about our protests. And our concerns. And our fears. We caught up on how our families were doing, how jobs were going. Some of us created collages. Some drew. Some poked around, not sure what to do. We ate tacos and drank wine. We left feeling connected. Still scared and uncertain about what was happening in our country, but feeling hopeful and not so alone.
The name Rage-Crafters stuck, and we meet once a month. Between meetups, we text silly messages, pictures of ideas for our next Rage Craft, and political concerns. Rage Crafting is helping us find our voices, process emotions, and create beauty and whimsy together. We value art and each other.
“How about gathering at my house after the protests to do some crafting and talking?”
She attached a photo of her dining room table set up with notebooks, scissors, colored pencils, magazines, and glue sticks.
“I think we call it Rage Crafting.”
Eight of us showed up that evening and talked about our protests. And our concerns. And our fears. We caught up on how our families were doing, how jobs were going. Some of us created collages. Some drew. Some poked around, not sure what to do. We ate tacos and drank wine. We left feeling connected. Still scared and uncertain about what was happening in our country, but feeling hopeful and not so alone.
The name Rage-Crafters stuck, and we meet once a month. Between meetups, we text silly messages, pictures of ideas for our next Rage Craft, and political concerns. Rage Crafting is helping us find our voices, process emotions, and create beauty and whimsy together. We value art and each other.
Oakland, CA
I am focusing on the challenge of the rising cost of living, specifically the rising cost of food, because food is essential to our survival, and also because it is one challenge I’ve been able to overcome.
Coming of age in the 1960s, questioning the systems we live under, it was the food industry and the medical establishment I resisted the most. Arming myself with information, I determined to live a conscious life, not least by eating and healingconsciously.
So for sixty years I have helped myself, those close to me, and the planet, by following certain practices: When I’ve had a plot, I’ve grown my own food; space lacking, I grow food in pots; when they’re near me, I shop at farmers’ markets. I buy organic produce, safer for my body, for farm workers, and for the earth. I buy local, for a lesser carbon footprint. I limit animal foods—kinder to animals and to the earth—and I greatly limit processed food, the food that is least healthy and has the highest rising prices.
These practices have been a benefit to my health and kept medical bills down.
By living, eating, and healing consciously, I help myself, others, and our earth, and I feel empowered.
Coming of age in the 1960s, questioning the systems we live under, it was the food industry and the medical establishment I resisted the most. Arming myself with information, I determined to live a conscious life, not least by eating and healingconsciously.
So for sixty years I have helped myself, those close to me, and the planet, by following certain practices: When I’ve had a plot, I’ve grown my own food; space lacking, I grow food in pots; when they’re near me, I shop at farmers’ markets. I buy organic produce, safer for my body, for farm workers, and for the earth. I buy local, for a lesser carbon footprint. I limit animal foods—kinder to animals and to the earth—and I greatly limit processed food, the food that is least healthy and has the highest rising prices.
These practices have been a benefit to my health and kept medical bills down.
By living, eating, and healing consciously, I help myself, others, and our earth, and I feel empowered.
Lakeside, CA
These days there’s an uncommon sight in downtown Juneau, Alaska: a bra shop with cojones. The local business Bustin’ Out Boutique has a sandwich board out front with a placard that reads “Fight Fascism. Shop Local.”
The local economic benefits of patronizing small local businesses instead of some faceless corporate or online behemoth seem obvious, but how does shopping local help fight fascism?
I think there’s a human message at the heart of that economic benefit. Free to spend our money wherever we want, when we spend it locally it’s a gift, a kind of a blessing that tells shop owners we value their shop’s existence. In the same vein, a shop’s public commitment to fighting fascism carries that blessing back to us. It’s a human gesture that tells me that the shop owners value my existence as well, my well-being, my civil liberties, my life.
Shopping local is part of the struggle for solidarity. We can muster the courage to fight the depredations of the current federal administration. But only if we stand together. If we don’t, we’re screwed.
The local economic benefits of patronizing small local businesses instead of some faceless corporate or online behemoth seem obvious, but how does shopping local help fight fascism?
I think there’s a human message at the heart of that economic benefit. Free to spend our money wherever we want, when we spend it locally it’s a gift, a kind of a blessing that tells shop owners we value their shop’s existence. In the same vein, a shop’s public commitment to fighting fascism carries that blessing back to us. It’s a human gesture that tells me that the shop owners value my existence as well, my well-being, my civil liberties, my life.
Shopping local is part of the struggle for solidarity. We can muster the courage to fight the depredations of the current federal administration. But only if we stand together. If we don’t, we’re screwed.
Juneau, AK
Perhaps resilience requires reflection, from a suite of photographs by Merry Song
The alarm goes off. No idea why I set it. I think it is so I can convince myself that I still have some structure or purpose in my life.
I force myself out of bed and take care of my morning routine, not that I need one as there is no one here but me to adhere to it.
I grab my coffee mug and fire up my computer and turn on the morning news on the TV that runs in the background of my life like white noise.
This morning’s highlights, like so many before, consist of possible changes to Medicare, voting areas, social security, and other items that may possibly affect my income and make it less likely that I can maintain my current, albeit modest, lifestyle.
I realize that the only person who can change my outlook and do something about the status quo is me. I grab a granola bar and my travel mug of coffee, walk out my front door, and get through the day as I have done so many times before: one step at a time.
I force myself out of bed and take care of my morning routine, not that I need one as there is no one here but me to adhere to it.
I grab my coffee mug and fire up my computer and turn on the morning news on the TV that runs in the background of my life like white noise.
This morning’s highlights, like so many before, consist of possible changes to Medicare, voting areas, social security, and other items that may possibly affect my income and make it less likely that I can maintain my current, albeit modest, lifestyle.
I realize that the only person who can change my outlook and do something about the status quo is me. I grab a granola bar and my travel mug of coffee, walk out my front door, and get through the day as I have done so many times before: one step at a time.
Jacksonville, FL
How can we be resilient and work to improve our world in the face of so many challenges?
A question I ponder each day. It is difficult not to become overwhelmed by reading the list of issues facing us today. I usually come up with the same answer. Apathy and doing nothing are not acceptable.
I am reminded of the code I attempt to live by called tikkun olam. In Hebrew, it means repairing the world; it’s a central Jewish concept about humanity’s role in making the world a better place. The goal is to do what I/we can to create a more just and harmonious place to live through acts of kindness, social justice, and ethical living.
A lofty goal. How can that be reached?
A dear friend of mine, Reverend Dale Turner, taught me many things. He was a staunch believer in small, good deeds—how the smallest good deed is worth more than the greatest intention.
I chose to pick one area for now. I will support women, especially women of age, color, and the LGBTQ community any way I can – buying books and speaking out when I can. As an older woman, I will continue to write. And of course, support Persimmon Tree. It doesn’t seem like much. But it’s something. Something is better than nothing.
A question I ponder each day. It is difficult not to become overwhelmed by reading the list of issues facing us today. I usually come up with the same answer. Apathy and doing nothing are not acceptable.
I am reminded of the code I attempt to live by called tikkun olam. In Hebrew, it means repairing the world; it’s a central Jewish concept about humanity’s role in making the world a better place. The goal is to do what I/we can to create a more just and harmonious place to live through acts of kindness, social justice, and ethical living.
A lofty goal. How can that be reached?
A dear friend of mine, Reverend Dale Turner, taught me many things. He was a staunch believer in small, good deeds—how the smallest good deed is worth more than the greatest intention.
I chose to pick one area for now. I will support women, especially women of age, color, and the LGBTQ community any way I can – buying books and speaking out when I can. As an older woman, I will continue to write. And of course, support Persimmon Tree. It doesn’t seem like much. But it’s something. Something is better than nothing.
Kirkland, WA
Resilience: The Antidote to Political Exhaustion
Let’s be honest: the political storm assaults us. That urge to quit is earned exhaustion. But history shows us hope isn’t found in sudden miracles.
Real change is built on resilience—a word whose Latin root, resilire, literally means “to jump back.” This ability to spring back is forged by small, unyielding acts: the decades the suffragists spent organizing, the deep planning of the Montgomery bus boycott, and the grinding work that secured the Clean Air Act. These movements furnish our blueprint, fueled by art, critical literature, and journalistic fervor that unite voices.
Short of giving up, we must reject dismissing these proven recipes—shared purpose, mutual aid, and showing up—as boring clichés while we desperately search for a political “wonder drug.” That search blinds us to the sheer force of disciplined, foundational action.
That quiet strength is available right now. When the crisis crushes our spirit, engaging with art and expression is a necessary mental defense. It gives us perspective, restores our empathy, and reminds us what we’re fighting for.
Let’s not mistake temporary weariness for failure. Persistence is the only antidote to futility. True resilience is the steady, principled decision we make to put one foot in front of the other. We inherited this strength; now we must wield it.
Let’s be honest: the political storm assaults us. That urge to quit is earned exhaustion. But history shows us hope isn’t found in sudden miracles.
Real change is built on resilience—a word whose Latin root, resilire, literally means “to jump back.” This ability to spring back is forged by small, unyielding acts: the decades the suffragists spent organizing, the deep planning of the Montgomery bus boycott, and the grinding work that secured the Clean Air Act. These movements furnish our blueprint, fueled by art, critical literature, and journalistic fervor that unite voices.
Short of giving up, we must reject dismissing these proven recipes—shared purpose, mutual aid, and showing up—as boring clichés while we desperately search for a political “wonder drug.” That search blinds us to the sheer force of disciplined, foundational action.
That quiet strength is available right now. When the crisis crushes our spirit, engaging with art and expression is a necessary mental defense. It gives us perspective, restores our empathy, and reminds us what we’re fighting for.
Let’s not mistake temporary weariness for failure. Persistence is the only antidote to futility. True resilience is the steady, principled decision we make to put one foot in front of the other. We inherited this strength; now we must wield it.
Indianapolis, IN
Because He Loved Me
A Story of the Transformative Power of Love
by Margie Crowe Wildblood
Fairytales, Prince Charming, happily-ever-after filled Margie’s girlhood dreams. Her love story blossomed in college when she met a kind, inspirational—and married—professor who changed her life. But, frightened by their growing attraction, he set boundaries, telling her to find someone her own age. A few years later, she did meet a younger man and fell in love. When their marriage ended, she gave up her fairytale fantasies, accepting that she would be alone for the rest of her life. Then, a letter arrived...
From the Amazon reviews
“A beautifully written and honest account of an extraordinary relationship.”
“There's nothing I like better than a book that keeps me up past my bedtime. I had a hard time putting down this tender, honest, romantic story. It will restore your faith in true love.”
“...It does a great job of capturing the strength and wonder of romantic love and defining it in terms of a lifetime experience. Highly recommended!”
Available in paperback and on Kindle from Amazon.The Angle of Falling Light
by Beverly Gologorsky
Set during the 'forever wars' that followed 9/11, The Angle of Falling Light movingly explores the demons that survivors must wrestle with in the wake of tragedy. Beverly Gologorsky brings us a great cast of characters, at their center three working-class women trying to shape lives of their own in a world that seems to promise them nothing but deadening repetition.
Brave and faltering, they face daunting conundrums of love, care, and the pull of freedom. How do we live past the terrible knowledge that we cannot always help those we cherish the most? Are we still entitled to seek happiness? Knowing how easily disaster can strike the vulnerable, how do we dare to take the risks required for a satisfying life? Is such a thing even possible in a society hooked on war, dangerous drugs, and hatred of the 'other’?
Alongside the unforgettable trio of Nina and her two daughters (the beautiful but heedless Marla and shy, determined Tessa—barely an adult, but forced to pick up the pieces when her home life shatters), we also spend time with Rhonda, an 80-something artist whose struggle to stay independent in the face of physical limitations and family pressure complements Tessa’s quest to become a photographer.
Gologorsky’s unsparing vision of the bleakness so rampant in a nation addicted to combat and inequality only renders more compelling her portraits of these women bound and determined to make a way from no ways.
Available from Bookshop, Amazon, and your local independent bookstore.
Merry Song finds that creativity and communication keep her in tune with the Great Mystery during these troubling times. She is a teacher and photographer living in the Pacific Northwest. As a teacher, she uses creative writing and dreamwork to assist people in alleviating the suffering within. As a photographer, she is guided by the heart, which senses astonishing moments all around her. She can be reached at
A huge thank you to Persimmon Tree for consistently providing a place for wise women to share their art, creativity, words, experiences, and opinions in an effort to unite rather than divide, and offer hope and love to counteract the steady diet of fear, lies, and hate we are being fed. We are resilient and we will bounce back from this horrific and embarrassing time in our nation’s history, and we will do it with one act of kindness at a time. We lift others up when our government attempts to bring them down. We open our hearts and wallets to help the poor, the unhoused, those struggling with addiction and mental health issues, the unemployed, people of color, and those who come here to flee violence, poverty, and corrupt governments and drug cartels. We give our time, our money, our respect, and most of all, we exercise our muscle that is empathy. I keep a quote by Roger Ebert in my desk drawer that I see daily: “I believe empathy is the most essential quality of civilization.” And I believe without it, we are doomed. So go out and exercise your empathy muscle by lifting others up with a smile, a compliment, an act of kindness, and by spreading joy, inclusion, tolerance, and love.