It’s easy to blame Donald Trump for the fear and anger in this election cycle; it’s much harder to see the deep roots of prejudice in ourselves and in our culture. Parker Palmer seeks a political reckoning beyond the language “us” and “them,” toward a language of shared responsibility.
Involvement is exhilarating, but saying yes to everything can be unhealthy in its own way. Guided by a poem by William Stafford, Parker Palmer points to the value of knowing when to engage, and when to let go.
Walk straight into your not-knowing. Exercise your heart. Live as variously as possible. In this season of graduations, Parker Palmer offers six suggestions for traversing the savage and beautiful terrain of life.
Trying to answer the existential question of worth is inevitable, but flawed. With words from Czeslaw Milosz as his guide, Parker Palmer on the question we need not answer and the ultimate definition of love.
Wisdom isn’t exclusive to folks with more years under their belts. Parker Palmer invites older generations to celebrate the gifts of the young — energy, vision, and hope — and recognize the valuable knowledge contained within in every age.
The greatest threat to American democracy doesn’t come from outside but from within. Parker Palmer serves up three traits to look for in a fascist leader — and words and a poem from Abraham Lincoln and W.H. Auden.
Life, like verse, contains beauty, grit, and uncomfortable truth. Inspired by a couplet from Thoreau, our columnist reflects on the journey of life as an artistic, creative craft, in the vein of lyrical composition.
On a retreat at a cabin in the northern woods of Wisconsin, Parker Palmer strings together pearls of contemplation on silence and solitude. With the help of Merton and Rumi, he finds the catharsis of being forced to reckon with one’s angels and demons.
A serendipitous typo inspires our columnist Parker Palmer to come up with a list of five “revolutions” for the New Year, resolutions to counteract grim realities in order to regain our humanity in 2016.
Remembering a passage from the Christmas services of his childhood, Parker Palmer finds counsel for living an honest and genuine life. We must, he says, allow the good words we speak to become incarnate in our actions.
The feeling of being stuck is one we all have experienced at one time or another. Beleaguered by writer’s block, Parker Palmer calls upon his beginner’s mind and encourages us to move forward with hope.
American democracy is illumined by multiple voices calling us to pursue questions of personal, communal, and political meaning. A Quaker reminds us to vigorously question those who say the U.S. is a Christian nation.
In the wake of the Paris attacks, Parker Palmer highlights the importance of “wounded healers” and what we can do to let heartbreak open ourselves to suffering and the kindness necessary for social change.
There are those people who know how to get ahead of the train wreck and those folks who are called to their senses after the collision has happened. But, catastrophe, too, can be a contemplative path if you choose to accept it.
The metaphors we use matter. Parker Palmer claims the metaphor of seasons to gently remind us that we’re not in charge, that we’re not alone, that it’s possible to transform and be transformed in this world.