Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Prevailing conditions.

December 20, 2017

 

I was surprised, looking in the mirror this morning, to hear this message: you're not really robust, are you. Statement, not question. And I looked at myself for a long time before finally agreeing--it's true. I'm not robust. I'm resilient, sure, but that's a different suit of armor altogether. 

 

But immediately an image of a friend came to mind, an incredible woman with whom I went to massage school, who has walked through the fire and come out the other side, not just resilient, not just robust, but burnished and honed to a fierceness that is as kind as it is quick, as compassionate as it is powerful. She was built for this, and the more she takes on, the stronger she becomes.

 

It's endlessly inspiring to be a witness in the process of, not transformation, but rediscovery--like the sculptor who says that the art is always in the stone, just waiting to be unearthed. That takes a fortitude, a trust, and a vision so heavily dependent on one's faith in the earth and its ability to provide any resource needed. That's robust--the ability to take action, to hack through the underbrush and create a new path (I know; meandering metaphors).

 

Resiliency is reaction, not action--it's bouncing back, standing in the storm and waiting patiently while others with more capacity, more endurance hold back the floods. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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