In quiet moments, I imagine my mind as a still bowl of water. If I breathe too hard or move too fast, ripples disturb the surface. I’ve learned to notice how breath affects the body, how the body influences thought, and how thought turns into feeling. It’s a simple circle. When one part of the circle becomes agitated, the rest follows. But with awareness and care, things settle.
That same wisdom applies to a nation.
I remember my college days at Hostra University, the start of football season, and the great bonfire celebrations. The fire would roar—crackling, alive—and students would toss in more wood, shouting and cheering. But off to the side, quietly present, was a firetruck. At the games themselves, an ambulance stood by. At the time, I thought it strange. But now, as a grandparent, I understand. Those firetrucks and ambulances weren’t dampening the spirit—they were there out of love. They were quiet guardians, not stopping the celebration, just ready in case something went wrong.
That is how a healthy society should work.
Today, we find ourselves in an age of political fire-building. Bold ideas are being thrown onto the flames—economic momentum, cultural shifts, technological change. Fire can be good. Fire cooks our food, warms our homes, and lights our path forward. But remove the firetrucks and the whole town may burn.
The current administration seems eager to fuel the flames—removing regulatory safeguards, weakening oversight committees, gutting the FDA, and even challenging the balance of the courts. These institutions are not enemies of progress; they are like the ambulance at the football game—present so the game can continue, not stop it.
We are not meant to live in fear of collapse. But we are meant to build with awareness. Just as I watch my grandchildren on the playground—present, but not interfering—we must be a country that allows joyful expression and ambition, while keeping the quiet presence of protection nearby.
Without that, we risk turning passion into destruction. The bowl of water spills. The fire jumps the line. And the game becomes a tragedy.
Spiritual Gravity 