Resilience: My Vote for Word of the Year
Everyone wants to be resilient. It’s a bit of a buzz-word. Courses are being taught. That’s a good thing. And yet—I believe we’re wired for resilience. And so, here are a few of my favorite ways to tap that life-tree of resilience that lives in us all.
The Pause Button. In the flurry (snow, life, ideas, family, friends, needs, holidays, challenges, creations—oh my!)—I pause. Pausing is not optional—it’s necessary. It’s from there, that I see differently—almost always. Like this photo. This rose, first given to me as my mom was passing. Vibrant and stunning, just like her. Time passed—and impossibly, the rose became more beautiful! More time passed and the dried petals curled—but astoundingly fresh beauty rose! (The Japanese call this way of seeing, ‘wabi sabi’.) A new container was called for. I reached for what was at hand—a clear glass dish. As I went to shoot a photo of it, I instantly saw that our old oak kitchen table didn’t offer a vivid enough backdrop. Out of the corner of my eye I glistened this tile trivet (newly ours, after the passing of Ben’s mom)—and then it happened. The pairing. Just wow! Layers upon layers of beauty. Golds playing with each other. (Notice that none of this was pre-planned—it just happened in real time. )That’s the way our lives are. If we pause. Everything is actually available to be woven, seen, and delighted in. Anthills and wood grain. Memories and dust bunnies. Like this morning, when I looked out the window onto the ancient Ponderosa Pine forest by the creek. What’s that? Hmmmm. A small pine, with a trunk no more than 4 inches in diameter—cropped about a foot up. The rest of the tree—gone. Not a clean cut (like a saw) rather more like a break. A chew? I pondered...and it was then, in the stillness—and only then that I saw the six deer laying in the swaying grasses. I know you see where I’m going. Those who are resilient know how to push the pause button. Long enough to see—the next, new thing. It’s a sacred act. And in that pause—the muscle of resiliency rises and flexes.
Mix It Up. Yup, that’s what I said. Here’s what that means. When we find ourselves caught, blind-sided, awash and afloat—one of our human superpowers is to simply realize that while the world appears to be mightily out of control—we are not. We (you and I, young and old, differently abled) all have the ability to shift. Shift gears. This often starts with shifting perspectives (you know I’m a big fan of this.) To realize that there’s the way I’m thinking right now. We’re sometimes even fooled into believing, “That’s just the way it IS.” But that’s not true, is it? It’s just what I see. Some people are good at finding an opposite perspective. That’s good. That’s resilience 101. But you know—the truly resilient realize that there are always infinite perspectives available to us. That’s game-changing. So, the first gear-shifting starts above our shoulders, in our most excellent, brilliant minds. From there, comes step two. To actually do something. Something different than what you were doing. That could be anything —just so it’s different. It’s that easy. Resilient folks have the power and the ability to mix it up on a dime. (I’ve coined a word for that. But that’s a future post.)
Silence Within. Did you ever notice that ‘silence’ lives, quietly within the word resilience? Silence is a gift. Silence is necessary and life-renewing. The doorway to silence is our breath. Take one. Take two. Oh look now you’re almost sitting down with a delicious cuppa in your hand. Good for you. Silence yields gold. Silence helps us find out way back home—to our resilient, heart-beating selves. Silence is our portal back to purpose, passion and permission to be both who we are—and who we’re meant to be. Silence knows. Silence sprinkles stardust and helps us remember that we are part of So Much More. Whether you call this prayer, meditation, stillness, a good cuppa, a break, the touch of nature—it’s life-giving to know your way home.
So, here’s to us all—miraculously, naturally resilient. To flexing our resiliency muscles. Who knew we had abs of real? Quads that quell? This season, I invite you to unwrap the gift of resilience. And then—like all sweet things—to share it generously with the world you love.