Holding the Resonance of Peace in a Time of Dissonance
- Lauren Koch
- Sep 11
- 10 min read
With the current events unfolding in our country and worldwide this week, I felt it was an appropriate moment to check the UUCF podcast archive to see if the sermon I delivered on July 20th of this year had been archived and shared publically.
As I sat with my coffee this morning, listening to my own words, I found myself in tears.
Holding the Resonance of Peace in a Time of Dissonance is something that must be practiced daily—no, moment by moment. This is a lesson I have learned thoroughly throughout my life. Have I always had the regulation or the tools to achieve this? NO!
In fact, I composed this sermon shortly after navigating some of the darkest periods of my life. My deepest gratitude goes to my dear friend and fellow pagan clergy member, Ursa Sylvest, for inviting me to share my research and personal experiences on this subject.
Powered by Patreon
Just a note if you enjoy my blogs, sermons, and community work, please consider supporting my work through Patreon. As a pagan clergy member and community activist, much of my time and efforts are on a volunteer basis - Patreon enables me to invest time in writing, creating, teaching, and exploring MIND BODY SPIRT and Mother Nature's many wonders, so I can share them with my community. Through small monthly donations from supporters, I am able to continue this work, that would otherwise be spent at a mundane form of income generation. Search Keeper of the Old Ways on Patreon.
In addition to sharing the sermon on July 20, 2025 at Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Frederick, I was invited to present the liturgy and a guided meditation with the congregation. Below you will find this practice and a transcription of the sermon - along with the archived recording.
Something I’ve learned over the past decade of studying yoga and Buddhist practices is this:
Peace doesn’t just live in our thoughts — it begins inside the body.
Tending to our nervous system is sacred work — and in a world that profits from
keeping us triggered and in burnout, it’s also an act of resistance.
When we choose to regulate our breath, our heart, our body’s stress,
we break the cycle that keeps us exhausted and reactive.
There are simple, somatic tools always within reach —
breathwork, gentle movement, music, sacred silence.
So now, let’s breathe together.
Guided Practice:
I invite you to settle into your seat.
Place both feet firmly on the ground — imagine roots growing deep
into the Earth beneath you. Soften your gaze, or close your eyes if that feels safe.
Turn your attention inward and simply notice your breath.
Is it shallow? Tight? Ragged?
Now, inhale deeply through your nose — not just into your chest,
but deep into your belly. Letting your ribs expand.
Pause for a moment…
Then exhale slowly through your mouth, emptying completely.
Let’s do this two more times:
Taking a deep inhale… with a gentle pause…
and a long, steady exhale out.
One last time at your own pace.
Allow your breath now to settle into an easy, natural rhythm — steady and intentional.
Feel your awareness spread through your body.
Where are you holding tension — shoulders, jaw, belly, hips?
Direct your breath there now — imagine each inhale carrying gratitude and
warmth to those pockets of tightness dispursing them as you feel your
body soften as golden-green energy fills every cell.
If you would like to invite any gentle movements like a shoulder roll
or neck circles - they may loosening what wants to soften more.
Stay with this feeling for another breath — calm, rooted, alive.
Know this peace is yours to carry — one breath, one moment, at a time.
Transcript of Chalice Lighting & Extenquishing - in addition to the Sermon
Chalice Lighting
As we prepare to light our chalice here in the sanctuary, we invite those online,
if you would like, to light a candle or chalice and hold it up to your camera.
We light this flame in a world where shadows linger — to remind us that
even the smallest spark can push back the dark.
As Dr. MLK Jr. said:
‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.’
May this flame be our shared promise — to hold the resonance of peace,
to stand steady in dissonance, to tend the sacred fire within our hearts,
and to shine that warmth outward - one breath - one smile - one act of kindness at a time.
Sermon
Last week, as I settled onto the back porch to draft this sermon, I found myself pondering the words dissonance and resonance. As usual, Nature had a lesson waiting for me.
An afternoon thunderstorm was rolling in, the kind where the air thickens, the pressure builds. The birds fall silent and the sky darkens— one of those moments when it seems as if Mother Earth is holding her breath. That hush — the build-up of pressure is dissonance that makes your spirit brace, your body tense, your breathing become shallow. Some of us know this feeling all too well — like a clash of notes on an instrument that doesn't harmonize well together, the static of dissonance fills our minds when we live in fear, confusion, or constant conflict.
Then the wind shifts — the rain falls — and the tension breaks.
That moment is resonance — a clear note that cuts through the static,
like a tuning fork struck in a quiet room.
When I say resonance, I mean vibrational alignment — that hums in harmony. Just like a struck tuning fork awakens the same note in every other fork around it — our calm, our peace, can awaken that same resonance in others.
Even in a world full of dissonance, we have the power to shift the energy by holding the resonance of peace, rather than living from a reactive state.
And this is what we’re here to remember: Peace isn’t just the absence of noise — it’s the choice to hold a clear, steady note in a world full of noise and chaos. A note that says: We can harmonize and make something beautiful together.
In a world that tests us daily, peace is not passive.
It’s something we choose, again and again — especially when the sky darkens.
When storms come — and they always will — we can learn not to run from the thunder.
We become the calm center, regulating our own storms so we can hold peace for those around us.
If we want a world ruled less by fear and frenzy, some of us must serve as the keepers of this resonance. We must choose to breathe deeper, listen harder, stand softer in the face of violence and hate — and remind us all that peace is not a place we reach —rather it’s a practice we carry with us into the storm. Cause know all too well the storms, won’t stop. It is unlikely the world around us will be free of thunder — fear, anger, injustice. But the work — as so many masters remind us — is not to wish the storm away, but to learn how to stand within it without adding to the noise.
Gandhi called this Satyagraha — the fierce, stubborn pursuit of truth.
Anyone can throw a punch — but true resistance, in the face of oppression, is about standing so deeply rooted in your own peace that no hate can uproot you.
Gandhi said: “In a gentle way, you can shake the world.”
And Ram Dass reminds us that the work remains the same, no matter how loud the world gets: to love each other, to ease suffering. Even now. Especially now.
So what does this mean for us, today?
It means that every act of compassion is an act of resistance.
Every moment you choose to listen instead of shout, soften instead of harden, you break a cycle of violence — inside yourself and in the world. Peace is not passive. It is not hiding from injustice or pretending the storms don’t exist. It’s standing in the storm and saying: I will not add to this dissonance. I will not feed this fire with more fear or hate. I will be a keeper of resonance — even if my voice trembles, even if my hands shake.
So how do we begin?
First, we clean around our own doorstep and seek to enjoy the magic in the mundane.
Thich Nhat Hanh said “Many people are alive but don’t touch the miracle of being alive.” and encourages us to: “Drink [our] tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the whole EARTH revolves.”
It is so easy to be pulled into endless consumption and productivity — reading the news, doomscrolling on social media - the constant noise and doing - it doesn’t feed the soul. This is only amplified by commodified wellness programs and retreats - which try to sell us on the impractical belief that PEACE can only be found when you have the perfect meditation practice on a scenic mountain top. Instead, we are tasked with doing what we can - with the life and time we have. And for most of us, peace is found in humble spaces — washing dishes, tending our gardens, sipping tea with full presence.
Adding shadow work into our self care practice can assist us in protecting our peace and creating space for more even more magic in our lives — by finding what is no longer in alignment - however this requires pausing in the discomfort rather than avoiding it - the lessons we learn in these spaces help us set boundaries, tend to our own peace first, and learn to have more compassion rather than casting the first stone.
As many of you know it’s not easy - to stay present - to resonate peace - but I feel the tug of society’s hamster wheel pulling a little too hard - I remember one of my favorite quotes from Henry David Thoreau who wrote: “It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?”
So when you find yourself overwhelmed - ask why - pause - touch the wonder of breath, and the present moment. Because these moments become a seed of peace — a form of quiet magic. When we practice this, we remember: we each hold a spark of the divine, our ordinary days are holy. This is where peace takes root — and learns to spread.
But cultivating Peace is not just a solo practice — it is something we tend together.
In Norse Heathenry, there is a word for this bond: Frith — sacred kin-bonded harmony.
Frith is not just an oath of friendship or fealty — it’s the active weaving of trust, reciprocity, care.
t says: Your peace is my peace. Your safety is my safety. Your well-being shapes mine, and mine shapes yours. Our ancestors knew this.
They lived by the cycles of the moon and seasons: planting, harvesting, tending animals, gathering at the hearth. They shared labor and bread because they knew survival — and peace — were never solitary tasks.
They were communal, interwoven, and sacred.
Today, the influences of living in modern society, pulls us away from this bond. Individualism teaches us to isolate, to play our cards close to our chest, to chase productivity over presence. It tells us peace is a product you can buy at an exclusive retreat or in the covers of the newest trending self-help book — but our bones remember otherwise.
Decolonizing our idea of wellness means remembering that peace is not found in a vacuum — it is grown in the daily tending of our relationship to self and building a kinship with our community and land that sustains us. Yes, there is value in retreating, to find solitude, to hermit. But true peace takes root when we gather, check on one another, share burdens, share bread — and build trust strong enough to hold us all.
Ram Dass reminds us: “We’re all just walking each other home.”
And how do we walk each other home?
By practicing compassion. By choosing curiosity over judgment. By daring to stay soft when the world wants us to harden and withdraw. By listening deeply when someone’s harshness comes from pain.
This takes courage — and regulation. It takes remembering that your breath is your anchor and your words hold resonance. It takes remembering that you can respond rather than react — becoming a living antidote to the dissonance around you.
When we do this together — living simply, listening well, caring for one another — we hold the resonance of peace not just for ourselves, but for all who gather near.
We become the village. We become the hive. We become what our ancestors prayed we would remember.
So in a world that wants us exhausted, reactive, and divided, we see how holding the resonance of peace is not passive — it is radical. It is alive — humming beneath our daily lives like a quiet drumbeat, calling us back when the noise tries to pull us away. It invites us to step off of the chaotic path of the maze — with its dead ends, detours, distractions — and follow the spiraling path of the labyrinth instead.
The labyrinth asks only this: Place one foot in front of the other. Stay present. Rest when you need to. Then continue. Knowing Peace is never far — it is one breath away, one mindful choice at a time.
We can stir it into our morning coffee.
Fold it into clean laundry.
Let it guide our words with strangers, or soften the silence when comforting a grieving friend.
We can offer it at the grocery line, the sidewalk, the bedside, the backyard fence.
We can remind each other, again and again, that THIS MOMENT is holy enough to hold peace.
This is the magic in the mundane — the quiet, ordinary rebellion: to choose to look for the light in the dark. And when we hold the resonance of peace — in our breath, our nervous systems, our words, our communities — we become the tuning fork in the quiet room. (Strike the tuning fork.)
Your calm note vibrates out, reminding every other being near you: We can hum in harmony, even here. Even now.
So may we carry this resonance forward — not as some impossible perfection, but as a humble practice, a choice we return to over and over again.
A soft rebellion. A sacred promise.
That in a world filled with dissonance, we choose to be the keepers of peace.
For ourselves. For each other.
For the world we are shaping — together.
Chalice Extinguishing
As we prepare to extinguish our chalice here in the sanctuary, we invite those online,
if you would like, to extinguish your candle or chalice and hold it up to your camera
As we extinguish this flame, may we remember its light does not end here.
It lives on in each of us — carried in our breath, our words, our choices.
May we hold the resonance of peace wherever we go, tending our nervous systems
as if it’s sacred ground, so that our calm becomes a refuge for others.
Let us leave this space committed to choosing love over fear, truth over silence,
light over shadow — again and again, together.
Comments