Narrator: A child is bullied at school, sparking a parent’s fight against racism and patriarchy. A young adult leaves their fundamentalist upbringing to stand in solidarity with their transgender friends. A person attends a Black Lives Matter protest and awakens to the deep-seated reality of white supremacy. These aren't isolated incidents; they are catalysts. They are the moments of awakening that call people to a deeper, more embodied way of being in a world fractured by injustice. These experiences reveal a profound need for wholeness, not just in society, but within ourselves.

In her book, Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day, author and poet Kaitlin B. Curtice offers a guide for this very journey. Drawing from her Potawatomi heritage, she reframes resistance not as a single act of protest, but as a continuous, sacred practice of healing ourselves, our communities, and our connection to the Earth. The book forges a path that shows how our daily acts can become powerful forms of resistance against oppressive forces, bringing new possibilities into being.

Narrator: The core message of Living Resistance is that true transformation is not a finish line to be crossed. It’s a continuous, cyclical journey of learning and unlearning. Curtice reminds readers, "You are a human being. You are always arriving." This simple but profound statement challenges the modern obsession with quick fixes and definitive outcomes. Instead, it invites a more compassionate approach to personal growth, one that accepts the ebbs and flows of progress.

In this vision, resistance is not a fleeting trend or a performative act. Curtice is clear that "Activism and resistance are not fads; they are lifelong embodiments." She compares this deep commitment to the process of decolonization—an ongoing effort to reclaim and proclaim belovedness for those who have been dismissed by empire. It’s not about just showing up for a protest; it's about how you live your life every day. It's an active, breathing way of being that connects us to something sacred and leads toward collective liberation. This redefines resistance from a simple act of opposition into a positive, empowering force for creating wholeness in a broken world.

Narrator: The journey of living resistance begins internally, in what Curtice calls the Personal Realm. She associates this realm with the color red, symbolizing our lifeblood, and the season of winter—a time for introspection, rest, and processing. It’s in this quiet space that we can begin to question the systems we’ve inherited and listen to our own inner truth.

Curtice uses the metaphor of a poem to describe this deeply personal work. A poem, she explains, is "the quietest, softest part of you, held up to the light." It’s a space of vulnerability, but also immense power. It can be a release for pent-up anger, a way to "break open and receive yourself to yourself." In a world that demands constant noise and productivity, the act of turning inward becomes a form of resistance. This inner work is not selfish; it is the necessary foundation for all other forms of resistance. It’s in this space that we hear the whisper of our own inherent worth, a truth that "cannot be denied: You are exactly as you’ve always been—Beloved Word, Spoken Self, Relieved Ache, Tender Child." Ultimately, Curtice concludes, "The poem is you. It always was."

Narrator: From the personal, the work expands into the Communal Realm. This realm is associated with the color brown, for the earth, and the season of spring, a time for planting seeds of change. Here, resistance becomes about honoring our connections to the land and to each other. Curtice suggests that nature itself is one of our greatest teachers on this path.

She illustrates this with a series of powerful reflections. Maybe, she posits, you don’t truly understand strength until you’ve rested beneath the heavy, waxy leaves of a magnolia tree, learning that power also lies in rest. Maybe you don’t understand community until you’ve watched ants tirelessly rebuild their home after it was destroyed, demonstrating the power of collective action. Maybe you don’t know fortitude until you’ve seen geese fly to the edge of their endurance to protect their young. And maybe you don’t know yourself until you’ve seen your own goodness reflected back at you in the mirror of the water. Through these observations, we learn that our well-being is inextricable from the well-being of our communities and the Earth itself. Protecting the land, caring for children, and practicing solidarity are not separate from the work of resistance; they are its very heart.

Narrator: The journey then moves into the Ancestral Realm, represented by the color blue for water and the season of summer. This is a space of fluidity and movement, where we interact with the stories, traumas, and wisdom of those who came before us. Resistance in this realm means facing history, decolonizing our minds and spirits, and engaging in the work of intergenerational healing.

Curtice acknowledges that this work can bring up feelings of emptiness or a deep, exhausted longing. But she encourages readers to see this inner space not as a void, but as a place of potential. She writes, "One day, you’ll need space to breathe, to remember, to accept, to grieve, and that big open space inside you will become home." This inner space is both ancient and modern, a quiet place where we can connect to the past in order to prepare for the future. By acknowledging the impact of our ancestors—both the pain they endured and caused, and the resilience they passed down—we can begin to break harmful cycles and build a more just world for the generations to come.

Narrator: Finally, all paths lead to the Integral Realm. Associated with the color yellow, for fire, and the season of autumn, this is the center of our being. It’s the time of harvest, where we gather and integrate all that we have learned, unlearned, and embodied in the other realms. This is not about achieving a perfect, finished state, but about learning to live with presence and acceptance.

In this realm, the goal is not certainty. Curtice writes, "To the tender call of letting go, I give not an answer but a breath—a steady in and out to admit and accept that all that is required here is presence and not sureness." It’s about abandoning the need for rigid answers and instead embracing the "thisness" of life—the simple, profound presence of body, mind, and spirit. This integration is the culmination of living resistance. It is the understanding that letting go, falling, believing, and embracing are not failures, but the very essence of what it means to be alive. It’s in this integrated state that we find our actions—whether they are creating art, caring for family, or fighting for justice—are all part of the same sacred rhythm of a whole and liberated life.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Living Resistance is that the fight for a better world is inextricably linked to the journey toward inner wholeness. Resistance is not just an external battle against oppressive systems; it is a deeply personal, communal, and spiritual practice of reclaiming our full humanity in connection with the Earth and with one another. It’s a lifelong commitment to embodying love and liberation in every facet of our existence.

The book leaves us with a powerful challenge: to reconsider what resistance looks like in our own lives. It asks us to look beyond the headlines and the protests and find the sacred in the mundane. How can rest be resistance? How can caring for a child, or a plant, be an act of defiance against a world that prizes productivity over presence? Kaitlin B. Curtice’s vision is a call to find our own ways to live resistance, not just in grand gestures, but in the small, steady rhythms of our lives, out in what she calls "the beautiful, terrible world."