In parts of the world, there exists a tree that creates a resin—called myrrh—which protects the tree from wounds and threats. Much like the myrrh resin, which is formed through the tree's process of healing, I am of the impression that our most difficult experiences can be transformed into sources of strength and wisdom.

I know what it feels like to exist in spaces where pain is swallowed, where sadness becomes a burden, and where anger feels risky. Early on in my journey, I made a decision to truly understand pain—not just as a sensation, but as a messenger. I believe that in order to bring tenderness to spaces that deem pain an inconvenience, we must first listen to it, understand where it hides, and learn how it needs to be seen. My hope is that from there we can embrace the cyclical nature of growth and renewal, allowing space for healing, understanding, and ultimately transformation.

Pain—individual and collective—is interwoven with growth and finding paths towards liberation. It is part of the very fabric of our journey. In navigating our challenges, we can uncover resilience and deepen our connection to ourselves, others, and our communities.