Finding Stillness in the Cracks of Loss

Like many of you, I’ve been sitting with the reality of Charlie Kirk’s passing. It’s strange how someone you’ve never met can leave such an imprint, and how their sudden absence can stir up emotions you didn’t expect. I’ve found myself pausing more often these last few days—turning off the noise, letting the quiet in, and just breathing.

Wabi sabi teaches us to look inside, to accept the transience of life, and to find peace in what cannot be controlled. Right now, that feels like the only compass I can hold onto. The ache of loss is real, and yet, alongside it, there's space for gratitude - for the way Charlie’s values pointed toward clarity and a sense of purpose.

What comforts me is knowing that these qualities won’t disappear with him. They ripple outward, carried by the people who were touched by his words, his energy, or simply the way he lived. I think about the little ways we can carry that forward—choosing honesty even when it’s hard, showing up with intention, leaning into conviction when the world feels uncertain.

Grief isn’t something to tidy up or rush through. Like the cracks in a well-loved tea bowl, it becomes part of the story. It changes us. And if we allow it, it can deepen us - reminding us of the fragility of time and the tenderness tucked inside every day we are given.

So if you’re feeling heavy-hearted, know you’re not alone. I’m right there with you - letting the sadness sit beside me, while also noticing the light that slips through. A birdcall in the early morning. A cup of tea warming my hands. The steady breath that reminds me: I’m still here, and this day is a gift.

Wabi sabi whispers that nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect. But within that, there’s comfort. A life well-lived, even when brief, is lost. It lingers in the quiet, in the spaces between, and in the values we choose to embody as we move forward.