There are times when I have the fantasy of helping to usher in some widespread social transformation, a collective goal that uplifts us all if everyone could get on board with it.

Lately, though, I’ve been noticing cities. There are so many cities that are dense with thousands to millions of people. Cities built upon decades to centuries of growth, contraction, upheaval. At best I could only know and influence a fraction of a fraction of the people in my city. Not enough to transform a world.

And in my work I’ve become deeply humbled to the reality that deep change is possible and it requires long term, diligent, patient effort with no guarantee of success.

And it is also an illusion to imagine the work is mine alone, that I am responsible for changing billions. Larger forces work their will. Thoughts I believed were mine alone appear in the mouths and words of strangers. Thousands of fires burn with the same truth, and sharing our truth feeds those flames in ways we cannot imagine.

The strangest trick of it is, I have to work with what’s mine to do. If I did your work, it would be for nothing. When I do my work, miracles unfold.

Grief is necessary, but neither cynicism nor despair is practical. Rest, and return to your work.