Friday, May 9, 2025: Starting Small to Change the World: Joy is resistance.” Well, I like to think laughter is the anthem, the soundtrack, to joyful resistance.  

I have been collecting seeds of hope, and I’d like to share them, in case you’ve been searching for signs yourself. In recent weeks, as I have endeavored to “pay attention” to the sources of inspiration in my little corner of the universe, I am reminded that hopefulness, or faith, is a muscle that can be trained. Carrying the weight of our world with gladness requires practice. It is a spiritual discipline, or as Ram Dass suggested, it is like a dance. Or rather, it can be like a dance, if we allow ourselves to view our strained movements and missteps as the natural flow of grace. Like the lupines and poppies bursting from the hillside outside my bedroom window, I am trying to dig my roots deeper into the earth and greet each day with openness.

Firstly, it was truly a “Miracle March” here in the Sierra Nevada region. After several dry months, winter finally arrived, unleashing storm after storm upon the mountains. For days, delicate little flakes fell from above and collected like woolen tufts atop the pines and firs. The granite walls of Yosemite Valley sparkled in the sunlight as sheets of snow swept across their rough surfaces. My field of vision was filled with hope as the glistening promise of water—crucial for the dry months ahead—covered the parched earth. As if, for a morning or two, everything was washed clean and made new. 

In April, the luminous green stems that signal new life unfurled from the mountainsides as tapestries of wildflowers emerged in every color. There were redbuds, with their magenta halos, and baby blue eyes with their dreamy periwinkle petals. The waterfalls raged so magnificently, it was hard to grasp that their waters may someday run dry. Spring is such a blessed reminder that life finds a way. No matter the power games humanity insists on playing, the natural world to which we belong will continue, unmitigated, with her cycles of decay and rebirth. 

Most recently, I picked up a book by the novelist and nonfiction author Anne Lamott (1954- ). The book had a funny stain on its elegant white exterior (I sure hope that brown spot is chocolate!), but I was taught not to judge a book by its cover. 

Lamott’s timely words reminded me, “The stories we have loved beginning with our earliest days are how we have survived, grown, and not ended up in gutters…These stories have saved us.” Writing has been an indispensable tool for me in these harrowing times. As Lamott described, “Writing breaks the trance of our belief that the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and that we need to protect ourselves and our families at all times. The right story can show us how to lighten up. If we tread lightly, hold life lightly, we can look around more bravely without blinders on.” 

My dear friend Katie, a former Starcross volunteer, kindly gave me a handful of drought-resistant heirloom seeds: melons, beans, tomatoes—oh my! Last weekend, I planted them in my neighbor’s raised beds where they will be safely guarded from bears behind a fence constructed mostly of old skis and the occasional wooden plank (don’t worry—it’ll hold). As I shed my gloves and stuck my hands in the soil, I recalled so many memories of those who taught me how to grow and harvest. I look forward to plucking out weeds as I patiently wait for Mother Earth to perform her magic.  

Speaking of neighbors, my community has been mobilized. This nurtures my optimism on a daily basis. Whether convening together to make art and write our representatives—or calling their offices with the insistence of a jilted lover—I have gleaned many insights and shared so much laughter with my friends (who are oh so bright and clever). Laughter, of course, is very good medicine. Perhaps you’ve heard the adage, “Joy is resistance.” Well, I like to think laughter is the anthem, the soundtrack, to joyful resistance.  

In a recent interview with the OnBeing podcast, the activist Adrienne Maree Brown (1978- ) spoke about the importance and difficulties of “practicing democracy” in our daily lives. For instance, how often do we deliberate openly about issues in our households? Or in our workplaces and our neighborhoods? Or, by contrast, have we grown accustomed to authoritarian leaders? Have we been conditioned to accept a situation where power is concentrated by a single individual who rules the majority by force? 

Brown said, “We haven’t been practicing democracy for a long time. We’ve outsourced almost every aspect of governance. All that we’ve held on to is complaining.” Imagine: many of the problems we face at the grassroots level can be resolved, or prevented, with communication and a willingness to work together.

You know what will really change the world? Deepening our understanding of and our relationships with our neighbors. That, dear friends, is how we change the world. I’m endlessly encouraged by examples, like Starcross or here in Yosemite National Park, where people are practicing living and working together in peace. Maybe these little pockets, a constellation of loving little communities, are what Jesus had in mind when he described the Kingdom of God, where the first are last and the last are first. 

Blessings be upon all of us, as we aspire to be people of peace in troubling times. May we find hope, joy, and laughter as we face down the challenges at hand. 

-Isabella

Isabella Hall is a member of the Board of Directors and Publication Committee at Starcross. She co-founded an intentional community centered around racial justice and community service in Charlottesville, Virginia following the Alt-Right rallies in 2017. She holds degrees in Religious Studies and Social Ethics & Community Development from the University of Virginia. She is an avid backpacker and has thru-hiked the PCT, the Colorado Trail, and the Arizona Trail. Currently, she works in Yosemite