Letters of Hope for the Season for Nonviolence
Visit daily during the Season for Nonviolence for new letters
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I am writing from the unceded lands of the Tohono O’odham and Pascua Yaqui peoples, in what is currently known as Tucson, Arizona. We are watching in real time as the systems we have been born into are being called into question. And we can feel this in our hearts and in our guts as violence being done to the most vulnerable people in our communities. The danger feels much closer to home than usual, and for many of us, it is. While this collective, massive harm was never necessary, it is a natural progression of the type of society and economy in which we live. In my lifetime, I have never heard more people speak on the process of corporate capitalism (and its natural ends in total decimation and exploitation) with so much truth in their hearts. And this gives me hope. In order to be free, we must first face the truth – the truth that this violence has been ongoing, and largely displaced at home and around the globe for over a century. There is a process of grief in recognizing that the governments we once believed would protect us are the adversaries to our collective well-being. And because of this, continuing to speak loudly, imperfectly, and with curious hearts, has never been more important. But it isn’t enough. There has long been, in many communities in North America, a general culture of idleness when it comes to global atrocities, rather than action. And grief can, at times, come in between us and action. It is our job to seek out the voices of those with a culture of consistent resistance. For them, it has been a matter of survival. And it is for us too, now. It is not only our role to speak, but to listen. And as more and more people travel down a continuum toward painful, ego-denying truths, we are called to reach for those who are traveling the path with open hands. It is hard to educate others. There is a desire to distance ourselves from those who occupy mental spaces that were once close to ours to defend our egos, to show how far we have come. To show that we are not, in fact, the aggressors. While it is satisfying to some to blame voters who have put us all in danger, when they finally turn the corner to join us, it is for us to say, “I’m glad you’re here.” Not everyone is in that place now. But I believe that it is a part of traveling this continuum that we reach a point of welcoming newcomers. And how can we reach that point? I believe it is in deep connection to community. We must let go of individual ego. We must care for and lift one another. We must do good work and take rest. We must lean on one another. There is no other way forward. We live in a violent world. It threatens us with harm. And while we combat it with love, we refill our hearts with long-dormant creativity. I believe that we must all develop a relationship to creativity that faces systems of violence with the power of our ability to be better, smarter, and faster to adapt. And in our nonviolence, we must be resolute. We must have stamina that we have not known, but that has been known for too long by the communities that our governments have exploited. And as we become more accountable, we must also learn to return to places of inner wisdom, of ancestral strength, and of the connection we all must create with other beings, whether they are humans, animals, plants, or ecological systems. We have to learn old ways in new ways. And we must try new things, fail, learn, and apply. I feel a deep sense of hope when I look at my community, which operates with a brave heart in the face of certain dismantlement. We support one another because we must, and we push for change because there is no other way forward. When the old ways crumble because their time has come, we must cultivate new ways in the fertile soil of love. It is love that makes all things possible. I am captivated by our capacity. If you feel called to rise, we’ve been waiting for you. And we are so glad you are here. Pria Joshi Tucson, Arizona 
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tansi nitôtemak, Naomi Jacko nitisîyihkâson. nitôhcîn tahkâkamin sâkahikan askîhk ekwa kihci-okimâskwew âhpitawikosisânocenas. Translation: Hello friends, how are you? My name is Naomi Jacko. I am from Cold Lake First Nations and Elizabeth Settlement. I begin by introducing myself in one of my native languages, as I find language revitalization an integral part of decolonization. Furthermore I believe it to be foundational to my own personal resurgence. I am an Indigenous female, more specifically I am a Denesuline and Metis student, residing on lands designated under Treaty 6 territory. I feel it necessary to position myself in all the work I do. Although I do not know you personally, I am grateful that you exist, and are reading this now. kinanâskomitin, thank you. I know I am not alone. One of the most powerful parts of reconnecting with language is that, for me, every word I learn feels like medicine. Even now, writing this to you, feels healing. There is a poem I wrote in nehiyawewin(Cree), I will share this with you: nipimâcihewâw Naomi (nee-pih-MAA-chih-hay-wah Naomi) ninehiyawi-kiskinwahamâkosin (nee-NEH-hee-yah-wee kees-KEEN-wah-hah-maa-koh-sin) ninâpêhkâson (nee-NAA-pay-kah-son) nisôhkahtwân (nee-SOH-kah-twahn) nimiyweyihten ka-pimohtahoyân (nih-mee-yweh-YEE-h-ten kah-pih-MOH-tah-hoh-yahn) I revive Naomi by re-learning to speak nehiyawewin I am brave l am resilient My spirit is like a rainbow In creating that, along with all else I learned, I can feel the strength of my ancestors speaking through me. Finally, speaking my language in a country[Canada] where it was prohibited for most of its history, gives me hope for our future. ekosi maka Naomi Jacko Edmonton, Alberta   Word art created from the letters of hope. Sometimes it is easier to feel hopelessness than hope. We’re bombarded with stories, images, characters and experiences that highlight the negative. We have to be reminded to see and feel and remember hope. I think about the image of a child bowing out candles, or a celebration of a new year, a birth of a new family member. The time I feel most hopeful is when I get out in the community to share ideas with my colleagues and friends. Working for social justice is a very lonely path most days. Values of nonviolence and courage, heroic attempts to bring peace are embodied in big news stories such as the death of a statesman or heroic sacrifice of a protester or civilian. The vast majority of people who walk the path of nonviolence are unsung heroes. Those who are learning, who are thinking, exploring. The more they learn, the more they grow into the influence they want to be so that we can celebrate small and large achievements alike. Natasha Sarkar Edmonton, Alberta  Dear Monica: I still remember visiting your Grade Six classroom and interacting with the students. I was very impressed by their role play when they acted out a marketplace based on nonviolent economy which then was followed by a Peace March. What was more interesting was to see how each one of the students was interested to sell the items that they made but were also interested to give free items as gifts to the visitors. I remember that by the end of the visit, I was gifted 8 items that I took all the way to India to show the children of our school in Madurai. Giving is something that’s very natural to your students and I want to thank them for teaching me the pleasure of giving. In my own work with Ekta Parishad, we have developed the practice of giving as well. Each family in the organisation in the family gives 1 rupee and 1 handful of rice to strengthen the organisation. Imagine 100,000 people giving 1 rupees and 1 handful of rice everyday for their struggle and their future. Each one of them do it with great devotion for a cause. Our teacher Vinobha Bhave, a follower of Gandhi, developed a concept about giving. He was the leader of a land gift movement. He inspired landed families to gift land to the landless families. You will be surprised to know that he was able to generate 4.2 million acres of land for redistribution to the landless. During the course of this movement he propagated the idea of Samyadan (gift of time), Shramdan (gift of Labour), Bhudhidan (gift of intellectual capacity), Sampathi Dan (Gift of property) and finally Jeevandan (Gift of your life for a cause.) Imagine there is so much that people can do to solve much of their problems around them by giving what they have. I hope your students will carry the value of giving all through their lives as they are learning it in the classroom under your kind guidance. Let us hope that through a training in compassion, we can address many of the problems that we are facing today. Warm regards, Rajagopal P.V. (Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India)  Peace means more than quiet, it means a world where no one has to live in fear, violence or losing people they love. Children shouldn’t grow up having to fight for their families, for peace, for protecting the ones they love. Peace is showing care, no violence, no death, no quarrels. Instead, it’s a world where everyone gets along, protects one another and forgives each other. Sometimes, if you are in a fight, it’s not about violence or being better than someone, it’s about love. Cristian Abreu, 10 years old Toronto, Ontario  I have struggled during the 2026 Season of Nonviolence. I have had days when the ferocity of violence around me, locally and globally, has drained my energy to move. But I remember a person telling me of searching the urban core to finally locate her sister, suffering deeply from the damages of drug abuse, lying near death on a bed in a small rooming house room. Her sister seemed determined to die, only wanting to be left alone. Finally she said, “I remember when we were girls how you loved to do your nails. Could we do that now?” and her sister assented. It was a tiny, almost frivolous, step that was followed by more in the direction of life. And so, not feeling much like it, I write this letter to a young man in West Africa who has worked hard to help others and to improve his own life, delighting especially in getting things to grow on his farm that no one else has been able to achieve, who has just been released from hospital after being badly beaten and shot because he has been critical of an authoritarian and illegitimate government. Dear John, As you recover from your injuries, I write to thank you for how you have helped me by your example. I write from a comfort and safety that embarrasses me, thinking how dangerous it is for you to act with integrity on your convictions where you are. You have reminded me, living in a world where success is all about numerically measured results, that Vaclev Havel was correct when he said, “Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out.” Your quiet determination, your plans to get back to the farm when you are well and try some new crops and learn how to make sausage, to let those who have hurt you see you are not going to give up, refreshes my own readiness to get back to speaking up and doing what I can to resist the much milder (but still dangerous) creeping authoritarianism and dishonesty of those in power nearer me. You have reminded me that hope is a verb, not a fuzzy feeling. Hope is action that demonstrates the importance of living values such as peace and love in word and deed. And as I think of you, a hemisphere away, refreshing my understanding of this, I appreciate that hope thrives in community, in our relationships, receiving when we feel exhausted, sharing when we have surplus, always seeing the Creator in each other. Jim (Jim Gurnett, Edmonton, Alberta)  |
