What Harmony Teaches Us: Never Fixed. Never Alone.
“We have absolutely no control over what happens to us in life, but what we have paramount control over is how we respond to those events.””
Harmony is neither black nor white. Harmony is the peaceful hue of grey. Harmony is not static—it is moving, adjusting, calibrating to strike a chord of resonance. It is not a set point in time or a place to arrive; it is a vibration, a motion.
I have always loved the sound of harmony—musical tones that blend to create this magical resonance that moves my spirit and stirs a kind of awe inside me. To sing in harmony with another person is to find a connection that elevates an individual note into a place vibration that touches the soul.
To find harmony in relationship with others—family, love, work—is to find inspiration and a sustainable energy that includes all personalities and all dimensions of our humanity.
What touches my heart most is that it is never static or fixed. The movement of harmony reminds me that there is no single point at which I will arrive, no perfect moment or final destination. The way I am evolving and the journey I am on does not have one fixed point of arrival—no flawless “aha.” Harmony gives me the grace to flow, to be messy, to learn, to get distracted, to come back, and to begin again.
I am considering two aspects of my work: one in the public institutions of education through TeachWell, and one in the mindfulness community—specifically this month, supporting women in perimenopause and menopause. In both spaces, there is suffering: constructs that narrate impossible expectations, systems that impose exhausting inequities, and relationships that grow estranged under the pressure of these external forces. In the name of support or healing, I am often defeated by the lack of a single answer to ease the suffering.
I have been working with this idea of not judging, fixing, or comparing, as taught to me by my mentor Anne Cushman and her teacher Philip Moffett. Instead: pause, breathe, and practice being with what is. How is this, right now? Lean into the moment—the presence of sorrow or grief, the discomforts, irritations, or frustrations. And as we lean in, ask ourselves: What does this need? Jack Kornfield reminds us that it is a futile endeavor to try to reach perfection, but we can work to perfectly tend to our hearts.
If we can intentionally be present to what is happening in the moment, without judgment, and tend to what the heart needs, we begin to connect with the insight and wisdom that hold the resonance of harmony. In our school systems, I have found those moments in levity, play, and quiet support for what is hard. In circles of women, I have found harmony in the ability to share a deep truth in the presence of a trusting community—to break down a little under the pressure of it all, exhale, and begin again with the support and care of our sisters holding us with tenderness and deep understanding.
In harmony, we are never alone. Our unique vibration joins with others to elevate our raw humanity into a blended resonance of something beautiful.
What do you strive for in your endeavor to heal or to ease suffering?
Without judging, fixing, or comparing, what presently needs your attention?
What is raw in that awareness? What is tender? What is beautiful but bruised?
What do the most tender parts need?
What insight comes through from this gentle, careful practice?