I finally sat with all the news about ICE in Minnesota this morning.
I read about the operation. I read about the 3,000 arrests and imagined 3,000 distraught families. I read about Renée Good and Alex Pretti. I read a short write-up on Victor Manuel Diaz, a man who was detained and died in custody.
I’ve been hearing the news coming in over the last two months, but I didn’t feel called to engage with it. My inner journey has been picking up momentum and demonstrating in the world in such delightful ways. It didn’t feel right to break that momentum to feel sad and depressed and helpless.
Until this morning.
I just felt it was time.
So I read. And I cried. And lit a candle for all the lives that have been lost.
It's all so surreal. Knowing this is someone's lived experience right now, in this moment, as I plan my day. People are being terrorized. People are mourning. People are grieving.
That's always true - people suffering, people grieving, everywhere, all the time. And I also feel the specificity of this situation and this moment.
And with that comes that perennial question: What is mine to do?
I thought about my 21-year-old self this morning. I was a leader in the Black undergraduate community at Harvard when Trayvon Martin was murdered. I knew we had to do something. I helped organize a protest in Harvard Square - actually saw this clip of it for the first time today, remembered how it felt to speak. That was my political awakening.
Yet here we are, 14 years later. And things in the world don’t feel that different.
But I feel different.
None of this is right. People should not be murdered. People should not be treated this way. Something must be done.
But protests don’t feel like mine to do anymore. Even rage - while valuable - doesn’t feel like mine to do anymore. Not because I don’t care, but because of how I see the world now. Because of how abundant I feel. Because I’ve befriended my emotions to the point where I can now choose them. Because I’ve experienced what happens when you start to intentionally shape your reality. Because I know there are infinite possibilities.
So what do you do when you feel like that?
Here’s my answer on February 4, 2026 at 9:34 am (subject to change as I learn and grow):
The work I’m doing to create a life I fully inhabit - a life where I do what I want when I want, where I put things out into the world that I really believe in, where I feel limitless - is as essential as anything anybody else is doing. That is my contribution. And it is enough.
I believe we change the world by changing ourselves, and I literally feel my capacity increase every day. So, I’ve been patiently waiting for my world-changing moment to arrive - when I’d have enough personal momentum to move the collective, when I’d be so deeply convicted I could stand in front of thousands and not be swayed. Then it would be time to speak on any of this. I believe wholeheartedly it is coming.
But to leave all public action for that future time disregards the power I have right now. And I know too much to keep doing that.
So, this post is my way of exercising that power, the power I have to share what is true even if it is unrefined.
In addition to writing, I’ve recently tapped into the power of prayer. That’s something else I can offer right now. So I'm going to leave a prayer here in my voice, say it with my chest:
That’s all I got for now.
With ease + love (+ power!),
Okie