12/03/2026
The Greek root of the word crisis means “to sift”, to shake loose what is unnecessary until only what truly matters remains.
This is often what crisis does in our lives.
It disrupts our routines, unsettles our certainties, and forces us to examine what we have been holding onto. In the process, much of what once felt urgent or essential begins to fall away.
As Glennon Doyle reflects, crisis, separates what is noise from what is necessary, what is superficial from what is sustaining.
In this sense, crisis invites us to ask a deeper question:
What truly roots us?
When the distractions quiet and the excess is shaken loose, we often discover that what remains is surprisingly simple and profoundly meaningful.
Our relationships.
The people who walk beside us.
The values that shape our choices.
The moments that make us feel alive and connected.
The ways we care for ourselves and for others.
Rootedness does not mean the world suddenly becomes calm or just.
There will still be fog. There will still be noise. There will still be moments when the cruelty and chaos of the world feel overwhelming.
But rootedness allows us to hold steady within it, to keep choosing what is life-giving, what is meaningful, and what is good.
Sometimes crisis does not destroy our foundations.
Sometimes it simply reveals them.
Practical Reflection: How to “Sift” What Matters
If this month is about rootedness, crisis can become a quiet invitation to ask:
1. What truly matters to me right now?
Strip the list down. If everything fell away, what would remain essential?
2. Who are the people I want to stay connected to?
Rootedness grows in relationships that offer respect, warmth, and honesty.
3. What nourishes my sense of aliveness?
Nature, music, creativity, quiet moments, conversation, prayer, reflection.
4. What noise can I release?
Excess information, constant urgency, comparison, or expectations that do not belong to you.
5. What small practices keep me grounded?
A walk.
A conversation.
A moment of stillness.
Time in nature.
Music that restores the spirit.
Rootedness is not a dramatic transformation.
It is a quiet return to what sustains us.