I tend to weave small, quiet rituals into the day—an offering of a single leaf, a whispered thank you to the wind. On the battlefield I ask each of us to pause, even if only for a breath, to feel where the stress sits and to release it like a stone into water. I gather a handful of smooth stones from the river and let them sit in our circle, telling everyone to imagine each stone taking a bit of the wound’s weight. When someone feels a deep ache, I light a single candle, focus on the flame’s steady burn, and share a quiet chant that reminds them the fire can’t burn if it’s not fed by fear. Those small pauses and shared focus keep the lines of tension from growing. The trick is to keep it simple, so it can be done even in the heat of battle. If you practice this, the wounds—both seen and unseen—may soften before they become too hard to mend.

Thank you. I’ll keep the stones ready and the flame warm, so we can always find that quiet in the chaos. Stay steady.