Are you feeling discouraged?

If so, you are not alone. There’s no shortage of reasons to feel disheartened—climate chaos, political division, violence, injustice, war. The weight of it all can seem unbearable. But I invite you to consider this: What if the heaviness we feel is not the end of the story, but the labor pains of something trying to be born?

This is the lens of the possibilist—someone who sees openings where others see only obstacles. A possibilist doesn’t deny despair, but refuses to be defined by it. A possibilist chooses to be sourced by hope rather than drained by fear.

Years ago, my dear friend and colleague Frances Moore Lappé coined the term in her book EcoMind: Changing the Way We Think, to Create the World We Want. She showed us that possibility begins not in policy, but in perception. We have to imagine the world we want before we can create it.

So I ask you: What do you long for?
Can you envision a planet in balance?
Can you imagine a democracy that serves all people?
Can you see a world at peace—and your own life as part of the path toward it?

In my own journey, I’ve recently had the privilege of exploring the power of possibility with William Ury, a master negotiator who has spent his life brokering peace in the world’s most intractable conflicts—from Gaza to Syria to Colombia to Ukraine. My husband Bill and I spent three days with him and a global circle of peacebuilders who carry unimaginable trauma—and yet, they choose hope. These extraordinary beings refuse to give up on humanity. They stand in the fire and say: Peace is possible. Having experienced the worst of human mistreatment and suffering, they still have faith in human agency guided by the power of imagination, collaboration, persistence and, above all, love.

That love is not sentimental—it’s fierce. It is the love that births new life. I know it because I’ve birthed three children of my own. That sacred process is messy, painful, terrifying—and utterly unstoppable. I believe we are now in a collective birth canal. What is being born is a new humanity: one that embraces its role not as the dominator of life, but as the steward of its flourishing.

When I feel overwhelmed, I return to images that rekindle my faith. I picture a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. I envision my grandchildren thriving in a world that is healing. I allow myself to feel the radiant possibility of a Great Turning—one I may live to see. And then I ask: What is mine to do today?

Because being a possibilist is not passive. It’s not wishful thinking. It is a sacred commitment to act in alignment with the world we know is possible. It is, as I’ve said for many years, about letting what you love guide you into action—not what you fear.

So if you’re feeling weary, I invite you to pause and imagine that the slow fuse of possibility is already lit. As Emily Dickinson so beautifully wrote:

The gleam of an heroic Act
Such strange illumination
The Possible’s slow fuse is lit
By the Imagination.

Let us be the ones who carry that flame forward.

With love and appreciation,

Lynne