The Listening Field

Resting in gratitude and service

I’ve been quiet these past months. Not because I don’t care, rather because the world is so full of voices—many of them wise and fierce—that I’ve chosen to listen.

Domination and distraction thrive on noise—an endless scroll of spectacle and spin. Political theater masquerades as truth, and our screens flicker with urgency that never rests. We’re seduced by the shimmer of outrage, the rush of reaction, the illusion of division. Social media becomes a marketplace of emotion, where fear is currency, and our attention consumed. In this swirl of digital distraction and performative power, it’s easy to forget the ground beneath our feet. But silence remembers. Stillness bears witness. And in the hush, we begin to see how distraction’s appetite is endless, but our presence is sovereign.

I’ve been on a few silent retreats, deepening my capacity to rest my mind, to stay present in this body, in this time, amidst the sorrow and fire of our collective experience. What continues to ripen in me is a subtle and profound shift in how I hold it all. Silence has become one of my strongest offering in these times. Not as escape, but as sustenance. In the stillness, there’s movement. In the quiet, a rooting. From here, a kind of clarity emerges—not reactive, not despairing, but steady, available, and responsive, spacious enough to hold both grief and grace.

We are not wrong for standing in resistance to the madness of our time. It is not madness to want justice. I share the outrage and movements toward what’s humane, and I choose not to feed the flames of hate. My commitment is to stand firm—with fierce love, not fury. To resist, yes—but with care. To remember that even in the wreckage, life is always unfolding, always changing, even when we cannot see it.

And life goes on. I’m in a sacred season of transition. My beloved and I are leaning more into ease and joy—turning down the volume of effort and welcoming the music of reflection and legacy. This feels right, and it brings me pleasure to witness the rise of wise, soulful practitioners—many of whom I have the honor to mentor and coach.

And speaking of legacy, I’m deeply proud of the Mindful of Race Institute’s Online Academy, which continues to grow. It’s a self-paced refuge for contemplative learners committed to understanding and transforming the disease of racism from the inside out. Through offerings like Mindful of Race 101 and Brave Space—our yearlong racial affinity group training—many have found clarity, courage, and community while learning and transforming.

I am especially moved by the generosity of our donors, whose support allows us to offer courses to individuals and organizations most impacted by systemic harm. At a time when DEI efforts are under attack, when public schools and nonprofits are being forced to scale back, we continue—quietly, but powerfully—to support those at the heart of transformation. Currently, I’m proud to be supporting three community-based organizations impacted by the financial decline of DEI initiatives as they build racial literacy and meditative practice into their leadership development efforts.

If you’re reading this, I imagine you too are navigating these times with a tender, thoughtful heart. Perhaps you’ve been grieving, reflecting, or simply trying to keep your soul intact in a world that often feels overwhelming. Please know, you are not alone. There is wisdom in your stillness, beauty in your questions, and strength in your longing to stay present and purposeful. Know that beneath the noise and chaos, something ancient and knowing still pulses. A quiet insistence that we are more than the madness that engulfs us. That within each of us lives a capacity to meet these times with presence, not panic, with care, not conquest. This is the ground from which Beneath the Noise is inspired.

If this message resonates, I invite you to visit the Mindful of Race Institute. Take advantage of our July featured online self-study course, Healing Racial Trauma, and consider my new offering, Coaching with Ruth also detailed on the site. Also, please consider making a donation to help sustain this important work. Your support helps seed brave spaces and wise action for individuals and communities who need it most.

May we continue, each in our own way, to walk with care and courage toward what heals and connects.

In gratitude,
Ruth