Our gathering alone defied the expectations of what resistance has to be. Palestinian solidarity on a May Saturday afternoon looked like tending to olive trees, sharing a fresh lamb picnic, and witnessing what saving seeds from an ancestral Levantine village means a multi-generation Palestinian farming family. We raised our fists by bowing our heads on the farm ground in congregational prayer and teaching our children what a truly tayyab lamb slaughter looks, sounds, and tastes like. Regenerative land principles were sewn together alongside Arabic words, smiles, and a short sense of Salaam amidst a swirl of senseless horrors we all knew were happening halfway across the world that same day. All together—hipsters, hippies, aunties, uncles, and kids— we soaked in the shukr cultivated on the farm, transmitted through our hearts, with knowledge of Allah’s bounty and grace.