Choosing Light in Dark Times

Lately, the world feels unbearably heavy. So much sadness, hate, and division—it’s like it’s hard to breathe sometimes. And living a plant-based life, that weight doubles. We carry not just the pain of human suffering, but the suffering of animals, too. Sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, we’re on the outskirts—expected to pick sides in arguments, camps, and conflicts we don’t even want to be part of.

I try to protect my peace. Our table is a strict “no politics” zone when friends visit. I avoid the news whenever I can. My mornings start with a curated newsletter—highlights only, preferably uplifting stories about animals, plant-based living, and sustainability. My Google algorithm follows the lead of previous clicks: plant-based recipes, inspiring animal rescues, feel-good stories about people making a difference.

But recently, my Facebook feed exploded with friends and family debating tragedies happening far from our own lives. Against my better judgment, I clicked. One click led to another, and another. I found myself drawn into videos and discussions I hadn’t expected—I saw the video at the center of these debates, and I wish I hadn’t. That click eventually led me to read about a school shooting years ago—something I had largely missed at the time, and I wish I hadn’t. My heart broke.

And then the algorithm caught my sadness. Suddenly, I was seeing heartbreaking images and stories from wars and disasters all over the world. Add to that the ongoing struggles in our own country. And let’s not even start on the animals, whose suffering—factory farming, habitat loss, and cruelty—is relentless and largely invisible to most. It was too much.

We’re not meant to carry the weight of the world.

This morning, on my run, I had a little pep talk with myself. I decided: if I can make a difference in something I see or read, I will. For the animals, the planet, the children. If I can’t, I’ll send love, say a prayer, and let it go. I unsubscribed from newsletters and pages that only bring heaviness—because sitting in sadness doesn’t help anyone. It doesn’t help the pig in the gas chamber, the starving child, or the forest being bulldozed for livestock feed.

So I choose light. I choose to make a difference where I can. I choose to steer conversations away from hatred and toward understanding, compassion, and hope. Not by ignoring the world’s pain, but by refusing to let it weigh me down—so I can act, care, and love more effectively.

Right now, we need light. More than ever. And I choose to be that light, even in small ways, every single day—for the humans, for the animals, for the planet.