It is not even two days out of the orbit of Monday's bomb in Manchester, and I have woken with a pull to hope. I am reminded of all the ways we keep finding, and innovating, to rise from our private and public despair, over and again. Every time tragedy takes something from our collective humanity, we intuitively discover new ways of giving something back to ourselves. This instinct seems to be a constant movement, and through that an endless opportunity for liberation. For every door that closes, we open another and welcome in a stranger. We find in ourselves a new type of voice that can talk to someone in need of different words. We let kindness up-well spontaneously and idiosyncratically on our own unique terms. We find ways to Be with others in their pain, because we know that this togetherness has an eternal quality. We find new ways to go on. We keep moving and being moved.