As I sit down to write this on a Sunday afternoon, I’m aware that in just a couple of hours the Super Bowl will kick off and, being a New Englander, of course, I’m rooting for the Patriots. With the Super Bowl and the Winter Olympics both underway, I’m reminded how early in life we learn to compete. Someone wins. Someone loses. So much of life is framed this way.
But what if life wasn’t organized around winning and losing?
Some Indigenous cultures, such as the !Ju/hoansi (or !Kung) and Inuit communities developed ways of living that minimized competition. Belonging wasn’t earned; it was assumed. Food and resources were shared as a responsibility, not a reward. Even success was held lightly, not to diminish anyone, but to protect connection. The goal wasn’t to be the best, but to make sure everyone had enough.
In that kind of world:
Love isn’t a prize; it’s shared.
Worth isn’t comparative; you matter because you’re here.
Care flows outward, not upward.
Humility keeps the community intact.
No society is perfect, but these examples remind us that the winner‑loser story is not the only way to be human.
So, on this Super Bowl Sunday, I’m letting the games be the games, and I’m also listening for a deeper invitation:
Where am I still competing for love I already have?
Where is Spirit inviting presence instead of performance?
Maybe the shift we’re longing for isn’t from losing to winning, but from competing to belonging.
Speaking of belonging, the message on Sunday was about belonging…the title says it clearly: Coming Home to the Body. If you missed it, you can watch it here.
After the service, Elizabeth Meade shared that on Saturday, she had written a poem called “An Honest Body,” which you can read here:
AN HONEST BODY
Today my body refuses to pretend
that it is not honest. It will not hide
any sacrifice or scar. No pain is
forgotten by my arthritic hip bones.
In each sharp crack, a doorway widens,
the threshold to their truth beckons me
to return to the splendor of my body.
It asks me to listen with more than
the curved shells of my ears
to the vast ocean of my presence.
It asks me to see each flare of pain
as awe inspiring as a shooting star
in the constellations of my nervous
system. It asks me to honor its
gravity, the ache a holy reminder
of communion with life.
Here, I will stand in its tide.
Not resisting. Not trembling
from fear. I will allow the secret
wisdom of my suffering to emerge,
a pearl held among the grit. I will be
a shell held open to the mystery
& miracle, wearing my cracks
without shame, whole in the glow
of my own hard-won grace.
(February 7, 2026, Elizabeth Meade)
Coming next week: We’ll explore what it means to live a life of presence, using the FACE model—Focus, Allow, Curiosity, and Embodiment — as simple, practical ways to experience the abundant life Jesus speaks of and carry it into the year ahead.
May this year invite us into deeper awareness, expanded possibility, and the joyful knowing that, as we live our light, we bless the world. Together, we affirm: ”There is always more good seeking expression through us, and it begins right here.”
You are a blessing in my life,
Rev. Patricia Bessey
