A quiet afternoon with Buddhist monks in metro Atlanta becomes a meditation on peace as daily practice, embodied hospitality, and the courage to become a living pilgrimage.
"Hope is not a mood or an idea—it is a practice. In the face of injustice and fear, we sustain hope through solidarity, courage, and small acts of care that bind us together."
This Thanksgiving, gratitude is more than a feeling—it’s a practice of truth, care, and solidarity. How can we honor Indigenous histories, support displaced neighbors, and let our gratitude move from words into action?
This fall, Casa Alterna launched a new intentional community model, with six residents shaping a year centered on hospitality, solidarity, and mutual support.
In the shadow of Atlanta’s ICE field office, heartbreak and hope meet. Through quiet acts of compassion, Casa Alterna volunteers remind us that love—especially in the face of cruelty—is a sacred form of resistance.
Outside the gates of ICE, where hope and home so often collide, I witnessed once again how love—and the dignity it affirms—can make a home even in the shadow of exile.
While politicians celebrate Independence Day with fireworks and funding for new migrant jails, Casa Alterna reclaims the spirit of July 4th at the gates of ICE, where resistance and hospitality converge as a faithful act of freedom.
On a stretch of sidewalk outside Atlanta’s ICE office, a quiet revolution unfolds—where tenderness becomes resistance, and love dares to show up, morning after morning.