Your Activism Doesn't Have to Be Loud

(a quiet practice that makes a real difference)

“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” (Mahatma Gandhi)

This past week was a doozy!

After a morning of spending a glorious time of digging in the dirt and inhaling the beauty of the blooming flowers from our garden, I shared something on social media…something I thought might offer a bit of hope or common ground…and I got absolutely blasted for it.

People called me names. Twisted my words. Made assumptions about my heart. I had to delete and turn off the comments.
I felt misunderstood and bruised and so tempted to shut down entirely.

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I want so much to make a difference in the crazy-making swirl of this world, but dang it, sometimes it feels impossible.

Everywhere I turn, there’s another voice shouting:

“If you’re silent, you’re complicit!”
“If you’re not on my side, you’re wrong.”
“If you’re not marching, calling your representatives right now, making your opinions known loud and clear, you’re just as bad as those in power doing the oppressing!”

Sometimes it feels like if I don’t do everything, I’m doing nothing.
And the guilt and the shame of that is so heavy.

But here’s the truth I’m learning to whisper back to myself:
I only have so much to give.
To help.
To say.

I am limited.
I am one person.
I am muddling through my own mammograms and tingling toes and tender old wounds that still ache some days.

And still…I care deeply.
I want to show up for a better, more just, more loving world.
I just don’t always know how.

So when I came across this idea of relational activism, it felt like my soul finally let out a long breath. As Dorcas Cheng-Tozun, best-selling author of Social Justice for the Sensitive Soul: How to Change the World in Quiet Ways, puts it, it’s “the kind of activism sensitive, empathic people have the potential to excel at.”
Not despite our tenderness, but because of it.

And honestly? In this past week’s heavy days, that’s all I’ve had to offer.
Face-to-face, heart-to-heart, right in front of me…people I love dearly who are suffering.
Really suffering.
Pain unimaginable.
Deeply hurting.
That’s where my energy went.
That’s where my heart led me.

It looked like:
Checking in again and again after heavy news.
Allowing clients and friends to talk until they were done.
Holding space for stories too tender for the internet.
Sitting together in grief and uncertainty without needing to fix.
Making sure no one had to feel alone with their fear.

It didn’t look loud. It didn’t go viral. It didn’t get any applause.
But it felt like the truest thing I could do.

Maybe you know this push-and-pull too, wanting to stand up and speak out, but also wanting to protect your energy, your mind, your nervous system, your family.
Wondering if your quiet love could ever be enough to move the needle at all.

But I’m remembering, slowly, tenderly, that showing up in a way that honors our limits and our values is not small work. It’s sacred work. It’s sustainable work.

So to those of you who make sure everyone feels included…
Who stay a little longer after the gathering to help someone clean up the mess in their heart…
Who check in with that “just thinking of you” text…
Who hold space when someone is raw and messy…

You are practicing a quiet kind of activism that changes the world one safe relationship at a time.

It might not look like power, but it is.
Because when love moves at the pace of dignity and presence, when it shows up again and again in small ways, it holds the whole fragile thing together.

It might not make the headlines.
But it will make healing possible.

So if you’ve been doubting your impact because your advocacy looks more like gentleness than urgency, more like tea and conversation than rallies and hashtags, this is your reminder:

You belong to the movement.
You are already walking the long road toward healing.
You do not have to be louder than you’re able to be right now.
You do not have to give what you do not have.
You do not have to fix it all to matter.

You are not alone.
Your love has ears and hands and feet.
And those ears and hands and feet, tender and tired as they may be, are still moving us forward.

From my heart to yours,
Esther
🌀 Spiritual Director, Companion, and Truster in the Slow Work of Love

P.S. In the middle of all the mayhem, I got a text from my son that said, “I’ve got really good news! And I want to tell you all about it! Can I call you in 25 minutes?” So there’s that. ❤️

And one more P.S. We have a family of screech owls that keeps making it’s way into our yard. Standing and quietly staring at one of them for 10 minutes while the others flitted about behind was better than any fireworks display on what feels to me like a messy holiday. We hope they keep coming back.

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P.S. How do you show up one soul at a time (which I know you do)? Also, how did this resonate with you? Anything helpful? Prickly? Feel trite?

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If this has touched you and you want to invite others into this space, I would feel so honored if you would connect them with me. It’s really how I get my words and my resources available.

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I am committed to being a compassionate companion on your journey to care for your soul, offering a supportive and non-judgmental space for reflection, contemplation, and exploration.

Whether you're seeking clarity in times of uncertainty, navigating life transitions, or simply desiring a deeper connection with your soul, I am dedicated to walk alongside you.

Your sacred path awaits.

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If you need to know more before booking your free consultation, check out all the information about what it is and why it might be just the right fit for you.

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Life can’t always be heavy. Here’s something light to put a smile on your face today!

*unknown source*

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With all the shouting that is telling me I have to do this or do that RIGHT THIS MINUTE, I came across this book and this paragraph was in the introduction:

For sensitive individuals who want to join the fray but are susceptible to being deeply affected by what we encounter, how can we know what kind of work we should do? How do we know how much we can handle? And how can we advocate for good causes in a way that is not only sustainable but also allows us to live authentically and joyfully? Those are the questions at the core of this book, which offers support, resources, and ideas for your journey.

Sensitivity is actually a beautiful personality quality that promotes connection, compassion, creativity, and inclusion. As sensitive individuals, we often see what others cannot: the voice that’s being unheard, the perspective that’s been forgotten, the problem that hasn’t been addressed, the unintended consequences that haven’t been named.

Sensitive people carry fiercely glowing flames that our world needs to burn away injustice, oppression, and hatred.

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If you would rather listen to her thoughts, this podcast episode might be just what the doctor ordered.

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