The Strength to Bend

“Peace grows in the soil of patience.”

I heard those words today, and they stayed with me.

Following my last reflection, I’ve been thinking about what it means to find my strength while also cultivating patience. I’m beginning to wonder if the two are much more connected than I once thought.

Last night, a huge storm rolled through our area. There was wind and rain, thunder and lightning. The rain came down in buckets, pounding against the roof and splashing across the front yard.

I found myself watching our trees.

They’re only about twelve years old, and as the wind moved through them, their branches bent and swayed. They didn’t resist the storm. They moved with it. Maybe they were even enjoying the rain.

And I started thinking about strength.

We so often imagine strength as something rigid. Standing firm. Holding our ground. Being powerful. Winning the argument. Having the answer. Convincing someone else to see things our way.

But what if strength can also be quiet?

What if strength is sometimes simply being still enough to observe and listen?

What if it is having the patience to bend?

There is something graceful about approaching life that way. Listen. Observe. Assess. And only then decide whether the moment calls for a thought, a word, an action, or perhaps nothing at all.

I'm beginning to see how differently I could approach both my relationships and my work from this place. I don't always have to react. I don't always have to solve. I don't always have to push against what is happening around me.

Sometimes I can simply bend with the wind.

I haven't completely figured out this idea yet, and perhaps that's part of the lesson. I don't need to. I can sit with it. Meditate on it. Give it time to grow.

For now, I'm continuing this practice of being less instead of more.

Less reaction.
Less resistance.
Less need to control.

More listening.
More observing.
More patience.

Perhaps that is where peace begins.