When Tragedy Strikes
Building Resilience, Finding the Light, Training for Joy
Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. --Leonard Cohen
September came out swinging this year.
On Labor Day, Anne and I came face-to-face with mortality when a cyclist, riding ahead of us down a mountain road near Aspen, missed a curve and crashed. I scrambled for help while Anne knelt beside her, holding her hand as she slipped away, the thin thread of life unraveling on an ordinary afternoon.
Days later, my own pine-shadowed town of Evergreen was rocked by gun violence when our high school—usually a safe place for learning, chatter, and teenage dreams—became a shooting range. A student opened fire on classmates, turned the gun on himself, and left us all fumbling for answers to terrible questions: Why? Are we safe? How do we go on?
And just as we were staggering from that, word came from Utah: a political activist was shot and killed mid-conversation at a university. Another ordinary day, cracked wide open by tragedy.
September wasn’t pulling punches.
Coping vs. Resilience
It’s hard to look at these and other tragedies and not feel the weight of what’s happening around us. Moments like these shake us. They break our hearts. But what to do?
Of course, we cope as best we can. Gripping tight. White-knuckling our way through. But coping is survival mode, it's whatever-gets-you-through-the-day existence. Coping is like clinging to the mast of a ship being battered by waves. You’re hanging on, but barely. And that's not sustainable.
Enter resilience. Resilience isn't survival mode, it's revival mode. It's coping on steroids. It’s what stands you back up after getting gut-punched to the ground, and then keeps you from collapsing again in the aftermath. Continuing the sea metaphor, resilience is having enough ballast to right your ship and sail through the storm. And that's huge.
Finding the Cracks, Seeing the Light
If there’s one thing many of us need, especially now, it is resilience. Not glib platitudes that sugarcoat pain, whitewash facts, and let us pretend things aren’t as bad as they are. That's just more of getting through the day.
I’m talking about solid and actionable resilience practices that root us deeply, strengthen us steadily, and help us see the light clearly. Because light is what guides and heals us. But to see it, we have to be willing to look at the cracks in our broken world. And in ourselves.
Because those cracks, as Leonard Cohen says, are how the light gets in.
Joy in the Dark
Which leads me to joy. One of the best ways I know to build resilience and find the light is to train for joy.
At first glance, joy may seem like the wrong word when tragedy is still fresh. Too light. Too cheery. Too exuberant.
But joy isn't that. Joy is quieter, steadier, more enduring. Joy is like an underground aquifer of strength you can draw from when the surface wells have dried up.
Unlike happiness, joy isn't dependent on external circumstances. Or fleeting pleasures. Or success. Or good things coming your way. Joy is a choice, an internal posture, a soul light. It's the candle that makes sense only in the dark. Against a bright searchlight, a candle flame disappears. But in the darkest night, even a flicker of joy can guide you home. Or save a life.
Training for Joy
And like any strength, joy doesn’t just appear. You have to train for it. So here's a five-step plan, a workout for the soul, if you like:
1. Warm up your attention.
First, recognize that your brain is like Velcro for negativity and Teflon for positivity (the "negativity bias"). It's the way humans are wired. Counteract that bias by pausing and intentionally focusing on the good, every day. Savor whatever small moments come your way—a sip of coffee, the way sunlight slants through the trees, the warmth of your pet pressing against your leg. Twenty seconds of noticing is enough to start the rewiring.
2. Build strength with gratitude.
Second, gratitude. It's not woo-woo, it's hard science. Practicing gratitude activates brain pathways and releases neurotransmitters that improve mood and emotional regulation. Think of it as resistance training that can lift you out of despair. Write down three things you’re grateful for daily: a friend's wave, laughter at the dinner table, a loved one's touch, whatever speaks to you. That simple act continues rewiring your brain toward joy and optimism.
3. Cardio for connection.
Third, resilience is relational. The research here is clear: strong social connections are the single best predictor of well-being. So make time to work out with your family and friends every day. A five-minute call with a sibling, a joke with your barista, even swapping miseries with a neighbor—it all counts as miles logged. And if you don't have the connections you'd like, there's no time like the present to put yourself out there and start developing them. In the end, it's about who you love and who loves you.
4. Rest, recover, reflect.
Fourth, don't overdo it! Joy and resilience don't grow in exhaustion. They grow in rest, recovery, and reflection. Overstuffing your schedule kills progress. So take a walk with no destination. Turn your phone off for an hour. Sit in silence. Pray, contemplate, or just be still and quiet your mind. Reflect on your life and get to know the company you keep in the quiet moments. These aren’t indulgences—they are recovery periods, where strength rebuilds.
5. Track your progress.
Lastly, athletes log their workouts, and so should you. Log your joy. Notice what lifts you, what calms you, what renews and energizes you. Over time, patterns emerge—these are maps you can return to when things go dark.
Final Thought
Life is beautiful, at times hard, sometimes tragic. That’s a given. What’s optional is whether you’ve trained yourself to meet hard and tragic times with resilience.
The gym is free. The door is cracked open, and the light is shining in.
Time to lift.💪
REFLECT
When life has knocked me flat in the past, what helped me get back up--and what didn't?
Do I tend to just cope (survive the storm) or practice resilience (find a way forward)? How can I tell the difference in my own life?
What practices, people, or perspectives act as "ballast" for me when tragedy strikes?
What small joys in my life have helped me find the light in dark times?
How might regularly practicing joy (through savoring, gratitude, connection, or rest) strengthen my resilience and ability to face future challenges with steadiness?
