When we look at political conflict, it is easy to stay focused on policies, parties, and headlines. Yet beneath these surface struggles live much older stories about fear, belonging, and the need to feel safe. Drawing on the work of Erich Fromm and on what we now know about early development and trauma, this essay explores how the roots of today’s political behavior can be traced back to childhood experiences of attachment, shame, and identity. It offers a way of seeing our current moment not only as a political crisis, but as a human one that asks for deeper understanding and more relational forms of healing.

g.r.I.e.f. is an unflinching exploration of loss, memory, and reckoning. Written in the quiet hours of remembrance, it captures the raw, conflicting emotions of loving someone who caused deep pain. Through fragmented thought and midnight reflection, the poem unfolds as both an act of mourning and a declaration of self-healing - a daughter’s struggle to find meaning, forgiveness, and peace in the shadow of her father’s death.

Every year, I choose a single word to hold my attention and shape my listening. Not a goal and not a slogan, but a lens. A way to notice what is already happening instead of forcing something new. This year, the word arrived quietly and kept returning when I was not looking for it.

Adaptation found me in memory, in stillness, and in the slow recognition that the season I have been living in is changing. What once kept me safe is now asking to grow. What once felt like shelter is beginning to feel like a doorway.

This is a reflection on sanctuary, on healing, and on the moment when refuge turns into readiness.