Inner Peace in Uncertain Times

Day 1 after Trump’s inauguration, the coffee machine humming, my son asked me:
“Mom, have you heard the latest? What Trump has done now?” In that moment I wondered: Is this going to be our new normal? Starting every day with this anxious anticipation of the next doom and gloom? How will this unfold? What will those uncertain times do to us?

We are getting used to a world spinning out of control. The U.S. back in Trump’s hands, wars that don’t seem to find an end, Europe increasingly influenced by far-right movements. I guess you can label these times uncertain. But what remains of the ideals I’ve always believed in? And how do I talk to my almost-adult children about this without slipping into cynicism or sarcasm myself? Can I still convey optimism to them when I often wonder where to find it myself?

How do we find inner peace amidst all this uncertainty?

How can we continue to believe in the goodness of people when the headlines seem determined to convince us otherwise? And how do we keep the idea of a healthy democracy alive when so much around us seems to challenge that very notion?

I often think about how we can pass on values like honesty, community spirit, humanity, and justice when they change in our society. Can we plant something in our children that they will live out naturally later, even when the world around them often shows the opposite? What remains of the values we strive to model at home when they are met with hardness, inequality, and division out there? Is it enough to sow hope in small ways, or is that naive?

And then there’s politics in those uncertain times.

How can we talk about it without falling into extremes ourselves? Can we avoid getting caught up in populist rhetoric or reacting with defiance in ways that only deepen divides? Where do we learn to have conversations that don’t just judge but instead ask curious questions? And above all: How can we learn together that there aren’t always easy answers—that doubt and reflection can sometimes be the more honest path?

These aren’t easy questions to wrestle with. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be simpler to avoid the news altogether, to not care. But what kind of role model would that be to my kids? In the end, I always come back to a quiet hope. A hope that isn’t rooted in grand gestures or quick fixes, but in the small, quiet things. But is that enough? Is it enough to focus on what lies directly before us—conversations, gestures, small actions? Or do we need to think bigger, act bolder, speak louder?

That morning, as I listened to my son talk about the latest news, I asked myself: How much of what I say will truly reach him? And how much will he fill in with his own experiences? Perhaps that’s what matters most: giving him the space to form his own views without burdening him with my own fears. But how do you do that? How do you convey hope without seeming naïve?

I don’t have answers. Just questions. And perhaps that’s where it begins.