 ‘Bad things do happen in the world like war, natural disasters and disease. But out of those situations always arise stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things.’ (Daryn Kagan) A recent qualitative research study in Peru in the aftermath of El Niño (2025) could have equally applied to life and communities in places like the Philippines. In terms of psychosocial impacts of ‘natural’ disasters and their intersecting contributory causes, the pattern is all too painfully familiar. People and communities in various parts of the Philippines this week are living with the physical, psychological and emotional aftershocks of shattering earthquakes, compounded by the damaging effects of devastating typhoons. I hesitate to use the word natural. Although we wouldn’t attribute the underlying causes of earthquakes to human activity, we couldn’t say the same of violent tropical storms where human-impacted climate change is an increasingly significant factor. A disaster occurs when hazard meets vulnerability. The poor are often the most vulnerable to the causes and impacts of hazards, including the ability to avoid, mitigate or recover from them – and poverty, albeit a complex phenomenon itself, is far from a ‘natural’ state. The research report I alluded to above identifies a number of interrelated issues that impact on psychosocial health: personal memories and lived experience of previous disasters; chronic and acute effects of the disaster (‘It’s not a now problem; it’s an always problem’); attributing blame and responsibilities; coping and resilience (including faith and relational dimensions); psychosocial distress (including personal and vicarious trauma); perceived (un)fairness in aid distribution; systemic corruption and distrust. Against this complex and, in some ways, overwhelming backdrop, I’m still inspired and find hope in the faith and actions of those people who transcend self-interest to stand alongside those in need. Jasmin lacks the material and political resources to address the macro issues, yet persistently steps out of her comfort zone directly into disaster zones equipped only with a spiritual presence (a ‘sacred encounter’) – Divine love – that, in its own unique way, offers deep psychosocial healing and hope – and the strength to go on.
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 ‘Give yourself a gift of five minutes of contemplation in awe of everything you see around you.’ (Wayne Dyer) I love spending time under German motorway bridges. I know that may sound a bit dodgy or weird, yet there’s something about the majestic hidden architecture that I find completely awe- inspiring. The tall pillars supporting the structure above have, for me, an evocative, ancient, temple-like appearance. Standing in those places, allowing myself to feel mysteriously lifted outside of myself, has a kind of spiritual quality to it that I struggle to express easily in words. Finding expansive places like this, whether in awesome mountain ranges or standing on a beach gazing out across open skies and sea, is a stark contrast to feeling hemmed in or pressed down by the day-to-day pressures of everyday life. It creates a moment to breathe in deeply, to feel the freedom and joy of space. I find that expansive, interior space in prayer, in God, too. Contemplation is, for me, presence to the awe-striking Presence who is already present with us.  ‘The German Bible calls the Holy Spirit the Beistand – literally, the One who stands beside us.’ Prayers for Peace. For over 3 years now, since Russia invaded Ukraine, this small and dedicated group of people have met every Wednesday evening in a cold stone church building in Germany, often warmed only by flickering candles and their burning desire to see a different world. The crucified Saviour in the background felt especially poignant tonight. The focus was on Israel-Gaza, praying for all sides of the conflict and standing in spirit beside all people suffering unspeakable pain. As we arrived, I stood slightly outside of the group, leaning against a wooden pew. I’d been sitting down all day writing an article and I needed to stretch to avoid discomfort I have with nerve pain. Just before the prayers were about to start, one of the leaders tip-toed gently across the room and stood silently beside me, without looking at me or saying a word. I’m a visitor from England, a stranger and yet, in the midst of the darkness, I too was touched by their simple act of solidarity.  ‘The providence of God is like Hebrew words - it can only be read backwards.’ (John Flavel) I had expected to be flying to Georgia this weekend then suddenly, at the end of this week, the trip was cancelled. The client’s circumstances have changed unexpectedly so we’ll need to reschedule. These things happen. The client has conducted themselves honourably in the midst of a difficult situation, with clear communication and a respectful stance at every stage, and I really appreciate that. It has given me a moment to think about an international coaching training workshop I facilitated last week with participants from Africa and the Middle East. Those participants emphasised the importance of relationship in coaching, not simply a transactional process of posing questions, reflecting back and hoping for change. It reflected well their cultural contexts and my own belief system too. The Georgia team has impressed me by its commitment to the relationship. I discovered there was another relationship at play too, which I didn’t realise until a friend sent me a report from Tbilisi last night. I would have arrived in the midst of vociferous street protests and riot police. God knew that before I did. This Harvest Sunday it feels, to me, like a sign of God’s relational providence.  ‘Modern toleration is really a tyranny. It is a tyranny because it is a silence.’ (G.K. Chesterton) At the end of this week’s Christian leadership retreat which drew on Action Learning at its core, I was struck by one participant’s feedback that, ‘This was the first time I’ve experienced authentic community.’ We had opened the event with trust-building activities, getting to know and understand one another as different people before introducing and practising Action Learning techniques. We also chose our own ground rules from the outset. The retreat was interspersed with times of prayer, biblical reflection and sharing of meals together. This reflection on community struck me as significant because it says something profound about what happened within the group, and is also a comment on outside-of the group. The participants were from very diverse personal and professional backgrounds, thrashed through some pretty tough issues together with honesty and care – and found this experience unique. It contrasted starkly with superficial conversations elsewhere, or with experiences of diversity that have resulted in avoiding, ‘othering’, polarisation, tension or conflict. I arrived home last night to hear the news on TV of a public activist’s murder, apparently by someone who didn’t agree with his views and influence. Then, today, I watched a huge protest crowd in London clash with a smaller group of counter-protestors, with embattled police holding the sides apart. It felt symptomatic of people, groups and societies that have lost their willingness and ability to tolerate difference, to tolerate truth, and to hold rigorous debates without feeling the need to silence with a bullet or with an arrest for free speech.  ‘If you judge people, you have no time to love them. Peace begins with a smile.’ (Mother Teresa) Jasmin sets off today for a 1-month visit to the UK. It feels important. After all, it’s not that often that a ‘wild jungle girl’ (as she calls herself) gets to fly across the world to such a different place. I’m always intrigued by the unique world she brings with her too – her presence, her stance, her culture; the profound experiences that have shaped her life and, through her, mine too. It feels like hosting a totally unique person who, although she regards herself (at 5 feet tall) as very small, lives like Mother Teresa and has an incredible impact in the lives of the poor. I’m aware of feeling a deep sense of anticipation as I write this – something like a strange mix of excitement and dread. Although we speak online ever day, I haven’t seen her in person for almost 3 years. Will I be aware and sensitive enough to her needs? Will I find myself being over-protective when she encounters things here that could surprise or hurt her? I’m painfully aware, for instance, of our relative wealth, the ease with which we spend and indulge while she lives among those who have hardly enough to survive. It feels shameful and embarrassing. Yet I notice she doesn’t judge or, if she does, that she hides it well. She’s too focused on God (whom she calls her own Father) to become distracted by the things that so often and so easily preoccupy us in this world. She believes the poor – and the rich – are precious to God and that that’s what matters most. She views every interaction with a person (even the hostile Filipino immigration officer who confronted her harshly at the airport today) as a ‘sacred encounter’, an opportunity to follow Jesus by sharing his compassion and love. I want to be more like her.  ‘Listening is the gateway to understanding.’ (David Spangler) I met with leaders at a UK charity yesterday who were thinking through how to create a focused and appropriately-boundaried People & Culture strategy for their organisation as they move forward. I was wearing my organisation development (OD) consultancy hat for the day. The first think that struck me is that they had already being doing lots of People & Culture related things until now. The question was how to create something less reactive and more intentional. As we talked through some of their hopes, aspirations, concerns and challenges in free-flow conversation, a simple framework emerged into my awareness that I thought, perhaps, could provide the foundation for a People & Culture theory of change or strategy map. If rested on 3 main areas: talent, thrive and transform – a convenient alliteration that also reflected their own values and language. We tested this idea and found it worked well as a conceptual map. While the leaders were populating the map with key conditions that would support fulfilment in each area and provide a basis for their own prioritising and action-planning, I noticed how praying at the start of the workshop had helped me hold the day and our work more lightly than tightly, listening for spiritual discernment rather than hard over-thinking. The 3 x Ts felt like a revelation, a realisation, and that made such difference. Listening to God is a lesson in trust.  ‘Stop scrolling. Start doing.’ (Kati Kaia) You see the headline. Another war, disaster or existential threat looming on the horizon. Your breath shortens, your heart tightens and for a moment, just a split second perhaps, you feel that primal rush of adrenaline. Your body is gearing up for battle – but there is no enemy in front of you. There’s no fight to be won and no obvious action to take. Just a screen, glowing with catastrophe, and the realisation that you are completely powerless to stop it. This is the fight-flight-freeze response, an ancient survival mechanism designed to protect us from immediate danger. But, in the digital age, it’s being hijacked. Instead of running from a predator or standing our ground in a real-life threat, we’re reacting to the relentless tide of global crises flooding our news feeds. And the worst part? There’s nowhere for that energy to release and dissipate. When faced with a real, tangible danger, our nervous system activates to help us respond – fight back, escape or play dead until the threat passes. But when the threat is abstract, distant or beyond our control, this energy has no resolution. Instead, it lingers, simmering beneath the surface, manifesting as anxiety, burnout or even physical symptoms like fatigue, headaches or stomach cramps. Chronic exposure to distressing news can lead to what’s called ‘headline stress disorder.’ It’s a psychological phenomenon where constant exposure to crises keeps the nervous system in a perpetual state of high alert. The body can’t distinguish between immediate danger and an article about geopolitical tensions. The result? We’re left feeling exhausted, restless, and emotionally drained – and yet, somehow. unable to disengage. While I believe it’s important to remain aware of global events, especially given the international scope of my own interests and work, we don’t have to sacrifice our mental well-being in the process. Here’s are some tips for how to break the cycle (that I’m practising too): 1. Recognise the physical response: The next time you feel that surge of stress while reading, listening to or watching the news, pause. Notice your breath, your heart rate and any tension in your body. Awareness is the first step to regaining control. 2. Limit your exposure: Set boundaries on your news intake. Try checking the news only once or twice a day instead of constantly refreshing your feed. Consider turning off push notifications for breaking news unless it’s directly relevant to your life. 3. Engage in physical activity: Since the fight-flight-freeze response is designed for action, find a healthy outlet for that energy. Exercise, go for a walk or even shake your arms and legs. Physical movement can help regulate your nervous system. 4. Focus on what you can control: Instead of fixating on problems you can’t solve, redirect your attention to actions within your reach. Chat with others, write to your MP, support a local cause or do related volunteer work to restore a sense of agency. 5. Balance negative news with positive (*see below): Despite media narratives, the world isn’t only crises and catastrophes. Seek out stories of resilience, innovation and positive change. Follow groups that highlight solutions, not just problems. 6. Practise grounding techniques: Breathing exercises, prayer, meditation and mindfulness practices can help signal to your nervous system that you are safe. Simple techniques like the 5-4-3-2-1 method (naming five things you see, four you touch, three you hear, two you smell, and one you taste) can pull you back into the present moment. Yes, the world is full of challenges, but it is also full of people who care, who take action and who make a difference. And that includes you – even if your first step is simply putting down your phone, taking a deep breath, saying a prayer and reclaiming your own sense of peace. [*For positive news channels, see: Good News Hub; Good News Network; Positive News]  ‘There are no permanent friends or enemies in international relations, only permanent interests.’ (Henry Kissinger) The third anniversary of Russia’s attack on Ukraine came and went this week with some hints of progress towards an end to the war. A possible deal or sorts, amidst shifting blame, and against the backdrop of disturbing rumours of hidden geopolitical manoeuvrings behind the scenes. It felt hard not to see Ukraine as trapped in the middle – a David now caught between two Goliaths as one friend put it – seemingly powerless at the hands of bigger, crushing and grabbing forces. In the middle of the mess, we saw the UK straddling two horses – with its Prime Minister in thin disguise asserting himself as the new leader of Europe (another land grab, of sorts, while his German and French counterparts were floundering in political chaos); whilst also sacrificing the poor in the world to the insatiable god of war in a bid to win approval of the world’s new President. I felt sick as I watched the news, seeing a leader sell his nation's soul for political expediency. I wondered what I might do if I were in his position of power and responsibility. I hope better, and I fear worse. I was brought back down to earth on Wednesday evening at a weekly ‘Prayers for Peace’ event in a cold church building in Germany. A group of ten German people – with I as a visiting Engländer – stood in prayerful solidarity with a group of twenty shy-looking Ukrainian women and children. Each held a candle and some cried with tears of pain and hope. I felt like crying too. 
‘When we know people whose lives are being destroyed and there seems to be no way of reaching them; when people are in impossible situations and there are no words to help them…hold them at the centre of prayer, where the divine Christ dwells, and expose them to the rays of his love.’ (Iain Matthew) Friedensgebet (‘prayers for peace’) felt even more earnest this evening than last time I was here. As we entered the church, each person lit a candle and placed it on a silver cross before a figure of the crucified Christ. It felt like holding the suffering of the world before one who knows what it is to endure pain. The candle I lit barely flickered at first, as if struggling to spark itself into even the tiniest glimmer of a flame. Hope, too, can sometimes feel like that. Those present reflected on certain parallels in German society today with those that preceded the rise of the Nazis so many years ago now. That was an unspeakably dark period in German history which, at times like this, still surfaces, smoulders and burns in the people’s collective psyche. I could feel their sense of concern and anguish about the forthcoming general election. Would Germany learn from its history, or would it find itself condemned to repeat it? As we prayed, I recalled Iain Matthew’s soulful spiritual wisdom: ‘Feel the way to the wound that is in us, to the place of our need. Go there, take it, name it; hold it before Christ. Feel our way to the wounds of this world, to those people or situations in dire need of healing. Go there, take them, name them; and hold them before him. Go there, not to dictate to Christ what the answer should be or what he should do about it; but to hold the wound before him.’ Yes. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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