A photo of holding out a hand in golden light

Photography by Jackson David/ Unsplash


This week’s Pause is written by Krista:

Dear friends,

In the last weeks, I’ve found myself riding a surge of gratitude for ordinary pleasures I did not realize I took for granted before the pandemic. The miracle of the vaccine, the reunions it made possible, made me feel electrified, reborn. I’m making promises to myself to keep attending to the elemental joys and new groundedness and life energy that have been an unexpected gift amidst so much hardness.

Yet this hasn’t been a summer of unmixed pleasure, by far. It hasn’t been the season of release and refreshment that many of us hoped for and needed. We’ve still scarcely been able to pause individually, much less communally, to metabolize the many forms of loss and disruption and learning that 2020 set in motion. These have continued. And the virus is not done with us. Terrible dramas of pain and danger are built into the state of the world right now. And the natural world, of which the virus is a part, is a source of deepening ecological grief in the very same moment that many of us have rediscovered our inborn delight in it, our belonging to it.

I’m feeling called to name all of this inside myself, and with all of you. As Christine Runyan counseled in the therapeutic conversation I had with her — about the effects of the pandemic and social isolation on our nervous systems and psyches — naming even the hardest truths musters our innate agency to face and hold them. The truth is, the most ideal of summers could not have restored the ease and equilibrium we desire. Yet a potential for tenderness — toward ourselves, toward others — is unleashed in a clear-eyed gaze at the unresolved ruptures in our midst. Possibilities for new life reside, in part, in holding the knowledge that the learning and work to which we have been called will not wait for us to be fully restored. As we are able, we must build practices of accompaniment, of tending refreshment — in equal measure to repairing and building and growing — into life, and life together. We must make the places and the pixels of our life together more vital, more replenishing.

All of this is flowing into how we at On Being are moving forward. Right now we are heading into our annual two week break. We’ve been producing new shows for our return in September, beginning with a fascinating conversation with Suzanne Simard, the forest ecologist who has demonstrated that trees communicate and that forests model ecosystems that both mirror and teach how human and cultural systems might better flourish. We’ve also been listening into the archives for buried treasure. In the coming weeks, we will air a perpetually pleasurable conversation I had on an old-fashioned live stage with the banjo icons and lovely human beings Béla Fleck and Abigail Washburn. Their Friday night family musical sessions during lockdown were examples for me of the wild beauty we humans can conjure in the strangest and most trying of circumstances. We’ll also revisit a beautiful conversation I had with the writer Luis Alberto Urrea about the deepest meaning of borders — as spaces of liminality and longing. We erect them – between countries and between people — and yet, as he says, “we miss each other.” A poem he reads about the wild love we are capable of feeling just looking out at strangers is worth the whole show.

And for this week, we’re re-releasing the conversation I had last year in the immediate wake of George Floyd’s murder, with Resmaa Menakem and Robin DiAngelo. Robin is a lightning rod figure, to be sure – a foremost white voice to pick up a reckoning with whiteness. Yet I so appreciate the often tender conversation between her and Resmaa, which opened to softness and depth. And everything they had to say then is all the more present now. “At this point, anybody white listening,” she says, “might be feeling, ‘oh, my God, I can’t get this right.’ And that is true. You cannot get this right. A piece of it is being in that unsettling place of not knowing — that deep, deep humility.”

Humility is a byproduct of living with the kind of contradictions that have come, at once heart-breaking and heart-opening, to suffuse our lives. Another byproduct is hope. We’ll be rolling out a new monthly series beginning in September called The Future of Hope, featuring conversations led by some of our favorite guests from across the years. And the young Wisdom app, which we continue to shape and refine with wonderful input, is gestating in the world with its Hope Is a Muscle course. We’ll have much more to share about this in the coming months, too, and much to grow into.

In the meantime, I wish you rest, and ease, and nourishment. And if you aren’t able to reach for those things — not all are, right now — I wish you kindness toward yourself, and the knowledge that you are not alone. Life unfurls ahead of us, more vigorous than our despair or exhaustion. We have it in us to rise to the grave and beautiful callings that have been placed before us, but only if we walk toward them together. And we will.


Love and blessings, 




The Wisdom App Is In The World

Experience On Being as never before. Become more fluent in your humanity; shape your presence in the world. The Wisdom app is a new adventure: curated learning; new teaching and reflections from Krista; guided contemplative exercises; and events with other members to build a community of accompaniment.

You can download the app and sample the first course — Hope Is a Muscle through the app store on your phone. Search “On Being Wisdom,” download, and begin. Become a member there, or join through the On Being website, where you can also learn more about our Fair Pricing.

Read Krista’s note about why this project and why now, or watch our July app launch event to learn more.


This Week at The On Being Project

Our Latest Episode

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On Being with Krista Tippett
Robin DiAngelo & Resmaa Menakem
Towards a Framework for Repair

The author of White Fragility and an expert on racialized trauma together — a deep dive into the calling of our lifetimes.

Listen on:
Apple Podcasts
Google Podcasts
Our Website


For the next two weeks, we’re taking our annual break to rest and reset. You can still revisit your favorite episodes of On Being in your podcast feed, and keep up your practice with the Wisdom app. We’ll meet you in your inbox again in early September. 


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The On Being Project
1619 Hennepin Ave
Minneapolis, MN 55403
United States