Political Conversations Without Losing Ourselves (or Each Other)
This week’s sanctuary began around a kitchen table, or more honestly, over a text exchange at a kitchen table with someone I love deeply, my brother.
I made a sarcastic remark about a Presidents’ felony conviction, something about sending him to CECOT, the infamous mega-prison in El Salvador.
My brother responded with calm, not conflict. He spoke with the care and clarity of someone who’s seen things I haven’t…his experience in Central America, his understanding of what that prison truly represents.
“A respectful debate—rooted in love, not conflict. You’re my sister, and that bond means more than any disagreement… Even if you don’t like the man, equating that with the kind of violence CECOT was built for is a stretch.”
He shared his experience in Central America, the violence he’d seen firsthand, the reasons CECOT even exists. He reminded me what it means to see policy through lived reality.
I listened… I understood that he was right..at least about the need for care…for a respectful debate.
So I paused, not wanting to react. I took a breath, I wanted to think, to hold space for the respect that I have for my brother. In fact I took hours before replying. And I responded…not to win the argument, but to speak from the truth of my heart…
“The truth is, your continued support for this administration, one that threatens to deport Americans, dismantles DEI, defunds libraries, and seeks to control what we learn, doesn’t just hurt me. It scares me.”
I was scared of losing our connection.
Scared of what silence might cost.
Scared of what kind of world we’re slowly accepting, one executive order at a time.
“This isn’t just about politics for me. It’s about dignity. It’s about the stories we erase when we silence education. It’s about the cruelty that becomes policy. And it’s about how quickly we lose ourselves when we stop paying attention.”
We didn’t come to agreement. But we came to stillness. A shared breath. A thread held.
We stayed and continue to stay in the conversation.
And sometimes, that’s enough to keep the thread of love intact.
If you’re having these conversations too, with a sibling, with a parent, a child, a partner, or a friend, know that you’re not alone.
These conversation political and otherwise are hard. It’s important to remember that we are more than what divides us.
Maybe that’s the kind of resistance this week is about-
To listen.
To speak truthfully.
To stay in relationship even when it stretches us.
Why I Write, Why I Pause

These questions,
How do we speak from truth, without becoming part of the very noise we seek refuge from? How do we challenge without humiliating? How do we protect our center without building a wall?
They’re not rhetorical for me. They’re lived. They come from my nervous system, not just the mind.
Truthfully, my first thoughts are not always kind. Especially in moments of tension and frustration.
When a conversation stirs something in me, particularly now, in this season of cancer, and chemotherapy, personal grief, and an already tender nervous system…I can’t always respond in the moment. I shut down. I raise a wall. I withdraw.
Not out of cruelty, but out of a deep need to protect the parts of me still healing.
And that’s why I write. That’s why Sanctuary of Resistance exists.
It wasn’t born as a public offering. It was born as a private practice. A place to step away from the noise, sit with the swirl of thoughts…even the unkind, defensive ones, and return with something truer, with something that I actual feel and believe under all the tension, and frustration.
Sanctuary of Resistance exists, because first thoughts are not always our wisest thoughts. But they are a doorway.
I need time. I need space. I need the room to feel what I feel, and then speak from the place of moral clarity. This is how I find truth. This is how I return.
If you feel this too…if you freeze in the moment or replay conversations after the fact, imagining what you wish you’d said, you are not alone.
You are not bad at debate. You are someone who thinks deeply and responds slowly. And that, too, is a kind of brilliance.
Sanctuary Practices for Hard Conversations
Before any conversation, take a breath.
Place one hand on your heart.
Ask yourself: What is my intention here? Am I here to connect, or to convince?
If you feel poked, agitated, and the heat is rising, ask:
“What part of me feels unheard right now?”
Then ask:
“What part of them might be feeling the same?”
Elemental Threads in Motion (Sanctuary of Resistance: A Guidepost)
Critical Thinking as Ethical Practice
- Can I question my assumptions before I speak?
- Can I recognize emotional hijacking and pause?
Spontaneous Political Community
- Can I hold the conversation as a shared civic act, not a battle for dominance?
Private Life & Friendship as Protection
- Can I honor the relationship and hold my boundaries?
- Can I speak from clarity?
- Can I listen to understand?
Education as Lifelong Inquiry
- Can I stay curious, especially in discomfort?
- Can I say “I don’t know,” and mean it with humility?
Journal Prompts – Consider one or all of these questions. Journal, converse or simply ponder in your own way in your own time.
- When was the last time a political conversation made me feel emotionally unsafe? What was really underneath it?
- What do I need to feel grounded before entering hard discussions?
- What’s one memory I have of being surprised by someone’s perspective—in a good way?
- What are my non-negotiable values, even in disagreement?
- What does it mean to love someone and disagree with them?

Closing Reflection: For the Ones Who Think of the Perfect Reply at 2AM
Let’s be honest.
Sometimes I leave a conversation and feel like I’ve just been hit by a slow-moving philosophical truck.
I don’t debate well. I don’t deliver zingers.
I don’t win arguments with bullet points.
But give me a journal, a blanket, and three hours.
I will return with a deeply reflective essay, a quote from Hannah Arendt, and a moral question wrapped in sea salt and soft moonlight.
This, too, is resistance.
Not loud.
Not instant.
But very, very real.
So here’s to the quiet ones.
The overthinkers.
The space takers.
The ones who go mute in the moment and bloom later with beautiful, thoughtful words.
We’re not broken.
We’re just on a different channel.
And sometimes…
That channel is set to “Please hold, we are processing your request with tenderness.”
Footpaths and Moonlight: A Feminine Reflection (A full moon Journal Reflections)
The Layers of Meaning Through Relationship: A Quiet Bloom
Sanctuary of Resistance: A Guidepost
Sanctuary of Resistance – A Gentle Refusal to Look Away
Sanctuary of Resistance: What You Can Do
Week 4 – Sanctuary of Resistance – A Full Moon Offering from the Inward Path
Week Three: A Reflection on the Layers of Meaning that Bloom from WithinSanctuary of Resistance
Week One: Thinking for Yourself in a Noisy World: A reflection on the quiet power of understanding
