About a year ago, when our country was hit with devastating news, we decided to host an impromptu sound bath—open to all. A come if you need a space to be in community kind of gathering.
While writing a meditation for that event, I slipped into a flow state and a phrase arrived fully formed: pockets of light. The idea was simple and necessary—that when the world feels like too much, we have to learn how to notice and hold onto small pockets of light.
That phrase has stayed with me. I return to it again and again. And that feels unsurprising, given how heavy the world has grown—heavier than I have ever experienced it. But naming something as a pocket of light has given me something essential: hope.
Right now, despair feels easy. It’s easy to drown under the weight of it all. Every day brings new things our bodies were never meant to witness, let alone carry all at once. And if you are a parent, you may be navigating the near-impossible task of staying informed while also keeping a gentle, reassuring presence for your children. That alone can feel like too much.
This past weekend, the Bad Bunny concert was a shining pocket of light. A beautiful expression of love, joy, community, celebration, and inclusivity. The teaser trailer for the show included the line “the world will dance”—and what a powerful sentiment that is. Because what happens when we stop dancing?
I believe it’s essential that we ask ourselves:
What brings us these pockets of light?
What hope are we holding onto?
What keeps us dancing?
What are you creating?
What are you gardening, tending to, nurturing?
And if your answer is my children—yes. Absolutely. They are a profound and meaningful investment. But I gently encourage you to also answer these questions for yourself, outside of parenting. You matter too.
We need community. We need each other.
Invite friends over even if your house is messy.
Make the phone call even if you don’t know what you’ll say.
Take the walk, even when it feels easier not to.
You are worth the investment of hope and joy.
Look for the pockets of light.
See them. Name them. Hold onto them.
And if you can—grow them.
xo,
April & Lena