Transmitting Love

what keeps us fighting for us

In a recent meeting, someone asked all of us what we are carrying lately, and, as obvious by the title of this publication, I was simply holding the liminality of it all.

For better or worse, the holiday season and the end of the calendar year brings it all out—the ways we care for each other, the Scrooge types among us, those who grieve, those who totally give in to the holiday magic, those who avoid it altogether—and everybody in between.

So, that’s what I shared: in this time, it feels like I’m aware of it all, and especially the possibility for humans to be so incredible and so horrible to one another. How do we make sense of it? How do we have hope for the future when we look throughout history at what we’ve done to one another?

Some offer up a spiritual way here, something that keeps them tethered to hope, to a better way ahead. Others offer up that throughout history there were always those who resisted hate, and we cannot forget them. Some would simply say that this is the way things are, and there is no hope at all.

I confess, I’ve been in all of these positions.

And this year, I’ve waffled between them, as well.

Then, I see a child care for an adult. I watch a man dusting the leaves of a potted plant at a coffee shop. I hear rain outside. I feel the expectation of the coming holiday. I cry over a friend who recently lost a loved one. I send a care package to a friend and hope it’s enough for the moment. I light a candle and sip my coffee slowly. I dive into a good book. I hear a new song about hope, and I remember what art does, what humanity does, what the spirit does when it’s inspired to never let go:

I remember when COVID first happened, I was on Instagram constantly, because artists were showing up there with the one thing they could give: their hope for a terrified world.

They were reading poetry, my favorite artists were doing live music sessions, painters were painting, and I was a teary sponge taking it all in, witnessing the prophetic artists of our time fighting for all of us.

As Taboo sings in his song, Transm1t:

This one's for love
Put your hearts up
Never give up
Fighting for us
Fighting for us

It’s why I can’t seem to give up on us, even as an Indigenous woman, even as a woman who grew up in a religion that didn’t value her, or in a society that thinks my body is not my own—still, I see something absolutely gorgeous about the way we love one another, about the way the earth loves us.

If it’s not about the big, sweeping movements of history, make it about the small moments that change everything.

Make it about the magic of lighting a candle and having a moment of silence.

Make it about the kid who loves their elder well.

Make it about a neighbor who needs a kind word.

Make it about a breath of fresh air.

Make it about the possibility to serve someone.

Make it about an afternoon of cookie decorating.

Make it about fighting for those you love.

Make it about this moment, this time, this peace.

And enter the rest of the world, and your place in history, from there.

It’s love that we transmit.

Friends, don’t forget, most of my writing will remain free, because I believe that sharing my words with all of you is what creates this community. For free subscribers, you’ll still get access to my essays and some original poetry. 

But if you’d like to subscribe for a paid account, you’ll get access to the following:

• a look into my life as an essayist and poet

• participate in discussion threads with me

• glimpses into notes from my personal journals

If you’re interested, just click the “subscribe now” button below.

Plus, did you know you can gift a subscription!? Give someone the gift of The Liminality Journal this holiday season. Just click the link below: