Shouting Louder Doesn’t Make You Right

Today the weight of the world feels heavier than usual. Uncertainty seems greater than at any other point in my life, and I have no control over what unfolds—I can only watch and wonder what comes next. The endless arguments I hear only add to the heaviness. Everyone insists they’re right, yet clarity never comes.

What unsettles me most is the absence of love and kindness in the way people speak and act. When did everything become so polarizing? Why must we always pick sides? I try to stand on the side of love, and still, it stirs up conflict. Whatever happened to “treat others the way you want to be treated”? That simple truth we all learned as children seems lost. We will never all agree on everything—so where does that leave us?

An overactive mind comes with its own curse: sleepless nights. Lately, insomnia has been relentless. None of my usual ways of quieting my thoughts have worked, and exhaustion makes it harder to stay positive.

This afternoon I tried to rest, hoping for sleep, but instead I found calm. I slipped on my heated & massaging eye mask, put in my earbuds, and opened the CALM app. Tamara Levitt’s voice, as it often does, soothed my scattered thoughts. She reminded me: “this human thing can be intense. Life is full of unknowns and uncertainties.” Exactly right.

She went on to describe us as lighthouses—standing tall on cliffs, battered by waves and winds, yet built to endure. A light for ourselves and for others. Stronger than we often realize.

As I listened, I was reminded of the power of reflection and breath. Relaxing our bodies, tuning in to what is within, allows us to release the fear and anxiety that weigh us down. Breathing creates space, clarity, and steadiness. The more comfortable we become with uncertainty, the more present we can be—and the more we can shine as a calm light in the storm, for ourselves and for others.

The soundtrack of crashing waves carried me back to 2004, on a family camping trip - the kids then were 11,10 and 8. After weeks of adventures, joys, frustrations, and tears (not only from the kids!) I found a rare quiet moment alone on the beach. Watching the waves, I marvelled at their constancy. They have been rising and falling since the beginning of time and will continue long after I am gone. That endless rhythm brought a deep, soothing comfort to my weary soul.

I may not be at the beach today, but the memory—and the sound of the waves in my ears—reminded me that life goes on. Strength and light will always find a way to return. Maybe not today, but tomorrow, when I sit down for lunch with a friend. And in that simple moment, I’ll be reminded that even small connections can steady us, like lighthouses guiding each other home.

Here’s to finding both peace and strength in this day and the next.