Some things matter so deeply you carry them with you every day. For me, that is Taft. I have spent so much of this year thinking about the Lorado Taft Field Campus in Oregon, Illinois. And I continue turning it over in my mind, talking about it, feeling its pull. I keep thinking about what it means to protect something sacred. I keep thinking about the children who once learned there among the trees, and the generations still waiting for their chance.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what comes next.Because saving sacred places isn’t only about preservation; it’s about participation.
We are living through turbulent times: climate change, political division, and a constant flood of noise. Many of us are weary. But weariness is not weakness. It is a signal that we need to pause, breathe and reconnect.
That’s what a place like Taft can offer: a refuge where those working for a better world can rest, reflect, and remember why they began.A living campus where educators, students and visionaries can come together; not to escape reality, but to restore the energy to transform it.
The work ahead is big.But if we gather in places that nourish us: in nature, in community, in a shared purpose, we discover resilience.
Because movements don’t grow from exhaustion. They grow from renewal.
And perhaps the most radical thing we can do for the planet right now is to slow down, listen deeply, and begin again. Begin from a place of wholeness.
