BOWWBLOG #45: Holy Week in a World on Fire, Easter Light in a Heart of Gratitude
How the Resurrection reminds me that even war and uncertainty cannot extinguish the dawn
WHAT: The Weight of a World at War
This week—the most Holy Week for Catholic Christians—was a difficult one to navigate. At the back of my mind, beneath the quiet rituals and the family rosary, there was a layer of deep concern about the worsening crisis in the Middle East.
As of early April 2026, the conflict that began on February 28—involving U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran—has triggered immediate global shocks. Oil prices have surged 40–50%, the Strait of Hormuz is blocked, and shipping rates have spiked nearly 200% in some regions. The United Nations estimates Arab nations could lose up to $194 billion in GDP. Food security is threatened because the region provides 30% of the world's seaborne urea fertilizer.
And for my country, the Philippines, there is an added layer of vulnerability. We have nearly 2 million overseas Filipino workers in the Gulf. Their remittances sustain countless families here. Now, those remittances are at risk.
As I sat in meditation each morning, I intentionally held in my heart, my Mettapractice for the millions of homeless, the dead, the displaced—the direct casualties of this irrational war. Nothing, absolutely nothing, justifies war. And yet, here we are. Again.
SO WHAT: The Guest House of Our Shared Humanity
I could not help comparing this crisis to the pandemic. But where COVID-19 was a shutdown of both demand and supply, this is a pure supply shock—energy and logistics—combined with crushing inflation. Unlike the pandemic, governments today have less fiscal capacity to absorb the shock.
The experts project several scenarios. In the best case, the conflict ends in weeks, though ripple effects will persist through 2026. In the worst case—regional war, regime collapse—oil could stay above $130-150 per barrel for years.
I do not know which scenario will unfold. None of us do.
But as I sat in the uncertainty, I was reminded of Rumi's poem, "The Guest House." It speaks to the very essence of this moment:
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The war, the anxiety, the helplessness—they are guests at my door. I do not have to be consumed by them. But I must welcome them, sit with them, and let them teach me what they came to teach.
And what are they teaching me? That life continues, even in the midst of anicca—impermanence, high flux, high flow.
NOW WHAT: Easter Light in a Grateful Heart
And then comes Easter Sunday.
After the darkness of Good Friday, after the silence of Black Saturday, the dawn broke—not because the world had stopped being broken, but because light has a way of returning even when we least expect it.
The Resurrection is not just a Christian doctrine. It is a universal truth: what seems dead can rise again. What feels hopeless can be renewed. Not because the suffering was not real, but because love is stronger than the forces that would destroy it.
Somehow, someway, amidst the headlines and the heartache, I found so much to be grateful for. These were my small resurrections this week:
· The completion of the online 4-session Introduction to Centering Prayer and Lectio Divina, which, together with my colleagues Juan Jacinto and Amico Rivera, we managed to deliver for a small faith community—a sangha of 8-10 souls seeking stillness.
· High-touch leadership development programs moving forward, including individual coaching that meets people where they are.
· A core team meeting as energized and engaged as ever.
· A breakthrough in-person meeting with partners for a multi-year OD program called "Silakbo," close to finalizing terms of reference for a May-June kick-off.
· Participation in a 2-session System Sensing workshop for the IDG transition into a decentralized, self-organizing global ecosystem.
· Family rosary and Easter lunch together—laughter, stories, the simple joy of being alive in each other's presence.
· Continuing fitness and self-care—small but steady.
I allocate time to situate myself and those I am responsible for. I make short-term plans and act on them. Above all, I keep the calm, the connection, and the courage to take one step at a time.
Now more than ever, our world—that little blue dot in the cosmos—needs care and compassion. And that change can only come from within.
Easter reminds me that the tomb is not the end. The empty space becomes the womb of new beginnings.
Your Call to Action: An Easter Practice for Any Faith
You do not need to be Christian to receive the gift of Easter. You only need to believe that darkness does not have the final word.
Here is a simple, doable practice for this Easter Sunday—or any day you need to remember the light:
1. Name One "Tomb" in Your Life (5 minutes)
· Where do you feel stuck? Where have you given up hope? Name it quietly. "This relationship. This financial worry. This health struggle. This grief." Do not judge it. Just name it.
2. Sit at the Entrance (5 minutes)
· Breathe. Imagine yourself sitting outside that tomb. You do not need to roll away the stone yourself. Just be present. Whisper: "I am here. I am waiting. I am open."
3. Look for the Dawn (5 minutes)
· After sitting, deliberately name three small signs of new life already present—even within the tomb. "A text from a friend. A moment of unexpected laughter. A bird singing outside my window."
· Write them down. These are your Easter eggs of hope.
4. Take One Small Resurrection Step (The Rest of Your Day)
· Based on what you have seen, take one intentional action—however tiny—that moves you toward life.
· Examples: Forgive someone (including yourself). Plant something. Send a note of appreciation. Make a doctor's appointment you have been avoiding. Say yes to an invitation you wanted to decline.
· Why: Resurrection is not a one-time miracle. It is a daily choice to lean toward life, toward love, toward light.
Rumi ends his poem with these words:
Be grateful for whatever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
This Easter, may you welcome your guests—even the sorrowful ones—and find that they are, in the end, guides toward a deeper, quieter, more resilient love. And may you know, in the very marrow of your being, that the light always returns.
Christ is risen. Hope is risen. You are risen—into this new day, this new moment, this new chance to be whole.
Happy Easter, dear community. Let us be resurrection for each other.
-Susan Grace Rivera
Posted on: April 05, 2026
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