Cristen Rodgers's Blog

Let it go

Forgive

Be kind

Turn the cheek

Be the change

It’s just men being men

It’s just locker room talk

Don’t overreact

Don’t make something out of nothing

Don’t pick sides

Be the change

A girl said he fondled her

“but that’s all they have so far”

I guess it’s not that bad

Let it go

Vibe higher

Do the work

Be the change

Fifty three women

A dozen teenagers

A couple of kids “so far”

But they were all lying

Let it go

Focus on love

Be the good you want to see

Be the change

“Grab ‘em by the pussy”

Grope them in the elevator

Mock their bodies

their voices

their rights

their rage

Breathe

Be calm

Find your center

Be the change

Steal their paths to success

Rape the land

Tear apart families

Defile their sacred spaces

Destroy their art

Take a deep breath

Remember to love

Look for the beauty

Be the change

Lie

And lie again

Bolder

Bolder still

Recruit more defilers

Join the ranks

You can be holy too

Just put on a uniform

And a mask

And if they dare to push back

Knock them down

Spray this chemical

Carry this gun

Because they are not holy like you

Control your mind

Quiet your pride

Smile at a stranger

Give to charity

Be the change

For generations we’ve carried the burdens

Emotional

Mental

Spiritual

We’ve carried the water

And the babies

And the laundry

While carrying their loads

and their wounds

and their damage

and their scripts as well

It’s not us versus them

It’s all an illusion

It’s all connected

It’s all in the plan

Find your center

Find the healing

Be the fucking change

For every unwanted advance

every micro aggression

every blatant insult

Belittlement

Dismissal

For every reporter silenced

For every man abducted

For his family abandoned

For every glimmer of fear or anger behind brown eyes

For the forced religions

and sex

and pregnancies

and labor

For the wars

and the genocides

and the hunger

For the destroyed art

and peoples’ house

and gardens

and parks

and water

and air

and food

There is no “them”

The system is rigged

Remember the truth

Don’t play the game

It’s not their responsibility

It’s not their mess

It’s YOUR job

to let it go

Vibe higher

Do the work

Be the fucking change

Carry it all

While we defile you

And then carry the pieces of us

We lost in doing so

That’s what women do

They are healers

They are gentle

They nurture

They belong in the home

Do what you do best

Be the change.

Maybe someday we’ll listen

And fucking change

Into something a little more comfortable

Like defiance

And flames

And rage.

~ Cristen Writes

When the road narrows

and the trees bend,

when the winds howl

and the sky darkens;

there are the footprints

of rogue travelers

who forged a way.

There are roots,

held firm by generations

of seekers, and healers,

mothers and grandmothers

who gave their last breath

laying the groundwork

for the next mothers

and her babies to come.

There are tendons,

and hearts,

and voices,

stretched pliable

through countless storms such as this –

strong, resilient, fluid,

able to withstand far more

than any single moment of time

could ever muster.

And there are stars.

Sometimes near, but often far.

Shielded from the very elements

intent on pressing and testing us –

and so not depleted, but filled.

Overflowing.

With the light that is needed

to find our way in this dark.

Just as always

we give

and we receive.

When we were blessed,

so we blessed others.

When we loved,

we loved wide.

And now in our time of need,

from worlds away,

there is a candle.

A poem.

A garden.

A song.

A reminder.

That this world –

made up of howling winds

and dark nights,

of narrow roads, and weakened defenses –

also contains rose gardens and bee hives,

love songs,

and communities of hope and peace,

built on the backs of those who did not give up.

They did not let that ember of hope

turn to ash.

And on it all turns,

like the seasons,

like the constellations,

like our hearts when we remember.

We are not alone,

and love always

always

always

finds a way.

©️2025 Cristen Writes

Ah, yes, the beauty of a wave formation is astounding.

Pulled by the moon.

Supported by the earth.

Higher potentials are coalescing in the deep.

Watch as they merge and swell.

Slowly at first, but with a force that only comes from the heart.

Deeper meaning.

Deeper intentions.

Higher hopes and dreams, perched on the same moon that pulls the surge forward.

There may be fires spreading, but the ocean is vast.

And she is rising.

We are rising.

©️2025 Cristen Writes

There are pre-packaged roles, and characters, and stories all around. And they are being bought and sold and pushed upon us all.

Hold your own.

There are vibrations and rhythms and dances and plays. They swirl and circle and beckon others to join.

Hold your own.

There are voices and songs and messages flowing through wires, riding on winds, and slipping from tongues.

Hold your own.

The noise is rising. But so is the quiet.

Hold your own.

The chaos is bubbling but so is the cauldron.

Hold your own.

This world contains all possibilities. But so do you.

Hold your own.

Hold your own.

Hold your own.

©️2025 Cristen Writes

Little worlds outside the world. That’s what we have made.

Here in whispers, and laughs, and secrets under cool white sheets.

Here under a tree, whose branches are weighted by fragrant white flowers, and her roots rise out of the ground around us like a living hug.

Here around the table where giggles and red balls bounce high as quick hands try to pick up jacks before either can land.

Here under the moonlight, where it’s safe to let the teardrops fall.

And here in the morning, with cheek kisses, and humming silly songs to bring in the day.

These little worlds outside the world – this is where we garden, so we always have flowers with us when we must go out into all the others.

©️2025 Cristen Writes

It’s a balancing act.

Maintaining your peace while fighting fiercely for others’.

Holding righteous anger in one hand and universal compassion in the other.

Recognizing and standing up to an assault on freedom while understanding that it can never be given or taken away.

Creating the world you want while honestly witnessing the world as it is.

Telling the truth of what’s happening without spreading fear.

It’s a balancing act.

The kind that requires true balance within.

The kind of balance that comes from knowing your own light and shadow.

The kind that comes from integration rather than separation.

The kind that comes from being whole without denying that one self, one community, one country are only parts.

The kind that requires a daily effort to be hope without turning a blind eye to pain.

Whether you are struggling with this balance or you’re becoming an expert tightrope walker – you are enough.

You are needed and appreciated and worthy of love.

Your efforts matter. Your hope is contagious.

Your conscientiousness is a gift, even when it feels like a curse.

Your gifts, your kindnesses, your art, your voice, your daily choices make a difference.

Keep shining.

We’re all in this together.

Cristen Writes

Watching the military meeting hosted by Trump and Hegseth was difficult.

More so even than usual, it felt like forcing myself to pay attention as someone was raking their fingernails across the chalkboard or sliding a table across a squeaky floor.

The urge to turn it off was strong; but the moment felt pivotal, so I resisted that urge and continued to listen anyway.

The shortest possible explanation of something that was anything but concise is that the entire thing was pure theatre.

But this wasn’t the kind of theatre that business leaders, or politicians, or teachers will sometimes use to increase morale and bring people together.

This was dark theatre.

While the rhetoric was as thick as ever, the pretense was not.

Through the President’s rambles along the murky corridors of his mind, the one thing that came across loud and clear is that the enemy is within.

And in the more cohesive but still disturbing speech that Hegseth gave, the one clear message was that the military’s purpose is to destroy our enemies.

Taken together, the tone was reminiscent of that scene in just about every fantasy novel where the antagonist drops any remaining pretense and draws a line in the sand.

I haven’t written about American politics directly in the past, in large part because it’s nearly impossible to keep it short and simple.

When a single speech contains more fallacies than a critical thinking exam book, and a single paragraph reads like Orwell, it’s hard to know where to focus.

And, as many have already figured out, that’s not accidental.

Nonetheless, despite an overwhelming number of concerning topics that should be addressed, I want to write about one that’s so buried beneath the rubble it feels intentional – philosophy.

It’s no wonder that philosophy is right up there with empathy on their list of things considered useless. Because philosophy is the “why” behind what we do. And when we lose that “why”, then “what” we do can be pushed so far out of the realm of morality that turning back is like doing a u-turn in a cruise ship.

Over and over again, the message from those at the top of this administration has been that we are throwing away the guardrails.

In Hegseth’s speech, for instance, those guardrails were defined not only as political correctness but also just basic correctness.

Let me explain.

The difference between a leader and a bully isn’t strength. It isn’t presence or how formidable they are. The difference is purpose.

The leader doesn’t agitate. They don’t go on the offensive. Their purpose is not control. And it’s certainly not aggression.

As time marches on, and more guardrails are thrown out, the line between strength as a means of protection and strength as a means of aggression is blurring nearly to extinction.

The line between leader and bully has been erased.

And this has been made possible by burying the philosophy.

Take an initial accepted philosophical stance – like the one that led to the renaming of the Department of War as the Department of Defense.

The philosophy was sound and something that everyone could get behind – we do not seek to create war but to prevent it and, in the case of an outbreak, to defend against it.

By completely ending true discourse, that philosophy was easily buried, and all of the moral obligations and restrictions that were tied to it are now dismantled.

Now, if we no longer accept that premise but have not yet defined a new one, there are no parameters for future acts.

This was intentional.

From the very beginning, Trump and those at his side have worked hard to at first limit and now completely shut down the type of discourse that would allow for any discussion of philosophy.

Even further, they have made the word philosophy itself a joke.

Any time that a question is asked by a reporter that requires something more than a parroted lie or a blanket statement, it is shut down, criticized, mocked, and attacked.

Because to define the philosophy would establish parameters. And bullies hate parameters, guardrails, and discourse.

So many are talking about how to fight back.

How to stop this wrecking ball before it swings any further.

And there are many good and moral answers out there.

But I’d like to offer one more.

Get off the internet.

Talk to your neighbors.

Be strategic and find a way to engage in a deeper conversation without triggering their defense mechanisms.

Find ways to dig into the philosophy. Talk about the “why”.

It doesn’t need to be political, because politics is just the result of philosophy, not the other way around.

The people who need to read something like this will not. They won’t make it past the third line.

The people who need to hear philosophy will not do so willingly. And that is where the opportunity lies. How do we connect on topics of morality and philosophy when both are being actively buried by those in power?

The answer won’t be found online. It will be found in connection. In real world displays of leadership – service, community, empathy, kindness, and genuine conversations.

At this point, I have probably taken as many topic turns as Trump does when asked about healthcare – but I hope that at least my overall message is clear.

The guardrails are gone and without them we risk becoming an earth-sized wrecking ball. We need to re-establish our philosophy – and that can only happen at ground level.

So put away the phone and start talking.

Cristen Writes

I’d rather be writing poetry.

I’d rather be stringing together far too many flowery adjectives in the hope that I could capture just a slice of the beauty that I see every day.

I’d rather be writing for fun.

But now is not the time.

It is not the time for adjectives.

Now is the time for verbs.

Verbs like feeling, facing, grounding, centering, forgiving, loving, and fighting.

Now is the time for nouns like courage, strength, and resilience.

And so here I am, inking love on paper as I always have aspired to do, but in a more direct kind of way.

Because the time for subtleties has passed.

And speaking love directly sounds a bit like this:

Make time to feel.

Every single day.

Face the anger. The pain. The fear.

Look them in the eye until they each yield. Stay with them until you find stillness again.

Remember that the world is made up of all the same stuff it always has been.

It’s just organized in a different way.

So love it as fiercely as you ever have.

Remember that your neighbors are not the echoes in this digital matrix. They are flesh and blood, beating hearts who are looking for love and connection and wanting to be seen and heard.

Be the change.

Feel your feet on the earth. Hear the birds singing. Hold the door. Let someone in at the traffic jam. Offer that hug. Give that gift.

Be honest. Be aware. But be steady and remember that the only real battle is the one we each must face within ourselves, and you cannot fight someone else’s shadow.

But you can be a light.

Great change doesn’t necessarily require great acts. Sometimes the biggest thing we can do is be consistent. Stable. Resilient. Committed.

Sometimes the light might feel like the flicker of a single candle in the dead of night.

But one candle can light a thousand.

I love you.

~ Cristen Writes

I can’t control the weather.

But I can plant a garden.

I can’t stop men from fighting wars.

But I can create peace at home.

I can’t protect children worlds away.

But I can touch the heart of someone in mine.

I can’t prevent group think,

or categorization,

or the drafting of war plans.

But I can think critically,

and practice compassion,

and introspection in my own life.

I can’t change anyone else’s heart.

But I can love across borders with my own.

I can’t erase the lines others draw in the sand.

But I can raise my voice above them.

I can’t change the world.

Or maybe I can…

at least a little.

©️2025 Cristen Writes

At this point, anyone in the States who is still in denial about this budding authoritarian is either willfully blind or completely brainwashed.

I say this not with judgment but with sadness.

I genuinely mourn for the great mental and emotional anguish they will likely have to face when it all hits home.

And I mourn for those who are already being hurt by whats happening.

As for me, I will continue to practice compassion and work hard to maintain a loving presence for those who need a soft place to land when they awaken.

I will hold loving space – in the hopes that our collective future will be a more understanding, unifying, and loving place for everyone; and that this proves to be a short-lived lesson that will guide us to that place.

What I will not do is stay quiet or be any kind of anchor for more of the same.

The people who “agitated” the status quo with their “wokeness” were warning of exactly this. They were trying to point out that there was still an undercurrent that needed to be addressed.

What is happening now is just that undercurrent rising to the surface.

So although I will be a safe place to land, I will not water down the truth or perpetuate denials to make anyone comfortable.

Love is love. But love is not always gentle.

~ Cristen Writes