Living a split-screen reality | Walking Our purpose

Like some of you, I have spent the last week viewing a split-screen of multiple, disparate realities. My nervous system is frayed from trying to hold both. I can feel how much effort it takes, not just for me, but for many of us, to stay present without shutting down and turning away.

On one screen, I have been following the Walk for Peace - the group of Theravadan Venerable Monks who are on a 2,300-mile walk for Peace from Texas to Washington DC. Their rhythmic cadence and silent presence as they have traveled on foot through our area have been mesmerizing. Even on the coldest days, people have been gathering along their route, drawn by something they may not be able to name, but can feel in their brief experience.  Being with them can be an invitation to remember what is most true: that beneath all of our fear and confusion lies a common ground of stillness and life.

The monks are walking their purpose. In every small step, you can see the light in their eyes, as they put one foot in front of the other, with confidence and clarity. Their purpose is not to fix the world but to share a measure of peace in the moment. “May all beings be well, happy, and at peace.”

Even Aloka, the Peace Dog with his own story of being lost and then found, is a gentle, soft-eyed reminder that presence itself can be restorative - where there is heart, there is hope.

On the other screen, I have been watching the powerful Winter Storms rise and fall in intensity over the last 3 days and then finally settle into the sunny but cold view outside my window today. Along with the meteorologists, I have been captivated by the unpredictable power of Nature to follow its own path, ignoring our desire for certainty.

And then, in the middle of all of this, I heard the terrible news of another senseless killing in Minneapolis. This time, my heart finally gave way and broke.

Buddhist teachings talk about “the genuine heart of sadness” - a place we touch when grief breaks us open -the place that connects us to others who have known a broken heart. And that is all of us.

In times like these, our collective nervous system is strained. We are carrying too much, moving too fast, with too little room to metabolize what we are experiencing. When we are able to hold our own broken hearts with kindness rather than numbing, something profound becomes possible. The heart expands, connecting with something larger, able to also hold another’s pain with grace.

This is not a resolution or a bypass. but an expansion that allows us to stay human together. We are stronger than we know.

Maybe walking our purpose begins here now.