“I’m sorry. It’s hard.”

Lessons of Light #37

It happened on an ordinary afternoon walk — one of those moments that I’m still thinking about over a year later.

I was strolling in my old neighborhood, when I noticed a homeless man on the corner of the street across from me. I used to see him on that corner often, usually shouting things into the air.

My instinct was always to stay away – to stay on my side of the street.

At the same time, I saw ahead of me a family of three on their own walk – crossing the street away from the homeless man.

It was a dad, a mom, and a son, the son being somewhere in his early 20s. As they were walking, the homeless man started yelling at them.

“You worthless mother-f*ckers!” He shouted it over and over.

I saw the dad stop. He slowly turned around, looked, and started walking back towards the homeless man, shouting, “You calling us worthless mother-f*ckers?! You calling us worthless mother-f*ckers?!”

The homeless man rose from where he was seated, and the two faced off, mere feet from each other, both shouting. I couldn’t hear exactly what was being said – they were both yelling at the same time.

The mom looked concerned. The son looked worried. He started walking towards his dad. “Tommy, don’t,” I heard the mom say.

The shouting continued until I suddenly heard the homeless man yell out,

“I’m sorry, okay?!

It’s hard.”

Whoosh. The charge between the two evaporated in an instant. The white flag raised. The veil of separation lifted.

I’m sorry, okay? It’s hard.

A peace offering.

The two instantly began a quieter conversation of which I could no longer hear. I kept walking … and looking behind every so often. They were still there talking, about what, I don’t know. The mom and the son simply stood and watched, giving the men the time they needed.

I witnessed humanity come into play. When I turned back one final time, blocks away, the dad was still there talking with the homeless man. Maybe offering help, maybe just listening. Because he knows, we all know, sometimes it’s hard.

Maybe just listening and letting someone feel seen is the greatest service that we can offer.

When Peace Comes to Play

That moment reminded me that peace isn’t something we find — it’s something we choose. Peace comes from within.

I think about that day often — how quickly the air changed when they both choose to connect with love over fear (fighting).

That’s the real work of peace: not waiting for life to calm down, but bringing calm into the storm. One conscious moment, one word, one act of understanding at a time.

If life feels heavy for you right now, I’m sorry, okay? It’s hard.

It’s hard for all of us at different times — that’s part of being human.

Peace won’t ever erase the hard things, but it can hold us through them.

Peace begins the moment we choose to live from it.

P.S. 21 Days of Peace opens again, starting on November 1. In just three weeks, you’ll begin to shift not what’s happening around you, but what’s happening within you.

21 days. Small steps. Big shifts in how you feel. More details soon.