“What will keep you alive and thriving in this very difficult time?” – Dr. Larry Ward
“The next Buddha will be a sangha.” – Thich Nhat Hanh
At home, my workspace and altar share a room. By the entry wall, well-worn books and years of notebooks. On the altar, artifacts: a picture of my grandmother, my great-aunt’s cookbook, red clay-stained rocks from South Carolina, an intergenerational jade plant, and my first mala.
The other walls display colorful portraits and words of my spiritual benefactors—my “inner council,” as Dr. Larry Ward calls it. Octavia E. Butler, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Audre Lorde, Thich Nhat Hanh, Joanna Macy, Prentis Hemphill, Mariame Kaba.
Being among these visionaries affirms the spiritual work of truth-telling, moral clarity, and wise action. They say: Life is change. Community is sacred. Love and justice are inseparable. Inner work leads to outer transformation. Bearing witness heals. Hope is a power source. It’s how I find capacity when fear and despair feel suffocating.
I am a Black woman of multiracial descent, with a family lineage of rupture and resilience. We’ve carried the weight of dispossession, forced migration, cultural erasure, and systems designed to degrade us—and a drive to persist, love fiercely, find sanctuary, and reject the myth of white able-bodied supremacy. This complex inheritance inspires my work.
I move between three spaces: Community Meditation Center, a Buddhist sangha offering meditation and dharma to all; Together We Bloom, a disability justice nonprofit in my family’s community; and Care Lab Collective—a “fugitive” space, as I’ve come to name it through the teachings of Dr. Bayo Akomolafe—for parents of disabled and neurodivergent children, choosing mutual aid and connection over isolation and shame.
The people gathered here—on the edges of our systems—are my teachers. I draw strength from those living in the cracks, who’ve built lives in the face of exclusion and harm. Their wisdom isn’t theoretical—it’s forged through survival, creativity, and care. They show me contemplative practice isn’t an escape from suffering but a way to fully encounter and transform it, preventing its spread.
An African proverb, shared by Bayo Akomolafe with my cohort of the Garrison Institute Fellows, says: We must get lost to find our way. Ancestors didn’t leave maps but stories, instincts, and a felt sense of how to navigate through trauma, heartache and loss, toward the joy and community permeating the vast unknown.
From contemplation’s silence, I hear: This path isn’t the end. The darkness we’re entering, though perilous, leads to a future worth building for our children. With each moment, we move closer to becoming ancestors. Our legacy is ours to co-create.
May we stay the course, uncertain as it is. May all beings be peaceful, safe, and free from suffering. May all beings be liberated. May we meet this moment with dignity, courage, compassion, and resolve. May we find our way through, together.
Jessica Mingus, MSW, is a Garrison Institute Fellow, Executive Director of the Community Meditation Center, and Co-Founder of Care Lab Collective, an online refuge for parents of neurodivergent and disabled kids committed to mutual aid, collective healing, and disability justice. She is currently writing a book exploring healing-centered parenting as a pathway for personal and collective liberation.
