Resentment is one of my least favorite emotions. What sucking on a slice of lemon does to the face, resentment does to the spirit. Resentment causes an inward spiral of bitterness, as we mentally catalog our grievances and complaints on repeat. But resentment can also be a powerful teacher and guide. It can be a big flashing sign saying, “BOUNDARY VIOLATION IN PROGRESS.”

Recently, I gave a speech to a group of CEOs and business leaders about communicating with authenticity. The audience was warm, engaged, and a lot of fun to work with. But during the Q&A, one of the CEOs raised his hand and asked me a question that stopped me in my tracks. He asked, For those of us who tend to live in our heads, how do we drop into our hearts?

Last week, my son walked into my office carrying a piece of paper, and asked, “Hey Mom, what’s a ‘mic drop moment’?” I took the paper out of his hand and read it, a big smile spreading across my face. His class is learning how to deliver better presentations, and for his upcoming book report (they actually call them book “reviews” these days, which is a huge improvement IMO) the teacher wants the class to practice delivering a strong close. She wants students to create a “mic drop” phrase that sums up the presenter’s point of view.

There are so many things I wish kids were taught starting in first grade. Things like financial literacy. Emotional regulation. The family trees of the four main families in Game of Thrones (just me?). But the one I really wish they taught? Crisis communication.

I am slowly making my way through an extraordinary book called This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us by Cole Arthur Riley. I say “slowly” because the language is just so beautiful, so nourishing, that I am pacing myself so I don’t accidentally devour it in one sitting. This line knocked me out today: