It’s a crisp, autumn day here in the Appalachian Valley. The wind is blowing steadily. It passes through the tall grasses at the water’s edge and makes a hissing sound. The sun breaks through the clouds occasionally, bouncing its rays off of the vivid yellows and reds of the peak fall foliage.

I’m standing on the beach, looking out over the lake, the rippling reflection of cottony clouds, the shimmering sunlight on the surface. Cold, fresh mountain air brushes across my face. Beyond the lake, patches of sunshine slide along the multicolored Kittatinny Ridge.

I breathe in deeply. I exhale slowly. I do not take this peaceful moment for granted. I pause to think about the people on the other side of the earth.

Across the ocean wars are raging.

Wars are raging, and what can I do?

Over the past two weeks I have asked myself that question again and again. And each time my mind returns to the comforting and inspirational words of Audre Lorde: ‘Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation and that is an act of political warfare.’

Two days after Hamas attacked Israel, I tentatively walked into my Yoga for Trauma Survivors class. This class is held in a nearby Jewish Family Service Center. All of the students are Orthodox Jewish women who have immediate family members living in Israel. I listened as each woman retold the stories their families had relayed to them.

One of the women was feeling guilty because she had decided to come to class rather than going to temple. I tried to ease her mind by telling her that we would all set an intention for peace and healing, and we would dedicate our entire practice, every breath and every movement, to that peace and healing, just as one would dedicate a prayer session.

I quoted Lorde’s words, as I explained that in a world where some people, some governments, some terrorist groups, have no regard for human life, every act of deep self-care is a tactical maneuver. Caring for ourselves deeply allows us to build the necessary strength, to do the necessary things.

Then I held space for them as we moved together. We breathed together. We meditated together. We cared for ourselves, and for each other. We maneuvered, tactically.

Since that night, two weeks ago, millions of human beings have been displaced. Tens of thousands of people have been injured. Over 5500 of our Palestinian and Israeli brothers and sisters have been killed.

Those numbers, as staggering as they are, are only a fraction of the human lives lost in the ongoing wars in Ukraine, Sudan, Myanmar, Maghreb, and Ethiopia, to name a few.

Wars are raging. And what can we do?

Before we can do anything else, we must start with deep self-care. That means doing everything we can to become healthier, stronger, and more mindful, so that we can project health, strength and mindfulness into the world. So that it can spread to everyone around us. One soldier at a time.

It means preparing and ingesting nourishing food and limiting empty calories and intoxicants.

It means seeking out and ingesting uplifting and inspirational content, and limiting exposure to unnecessary extraneous content.

It means moving our bodies so that we can energize our spirits.

It means regularly unplugging and appreciating the natural world around us.

And it means allowing ourselves to rest.

That is tactical warfare.