Sunday, September 13, 2009

Resilience

The dictionary defines resilience as the ability to return to the original form, position etc. after being bent or stretched.


Resilience also means the ability to recover readily from illness, depression, adversity or the like; buoyancy.








Consider what you have experience thus far in life. consider those around you. Amazing to see how each of us responds to being bent or stretched; adversity or depression.

Some of us hold on tight to those things, defining ourselves by this pain or that difficulty.









Others seem to transcend them, taking what they can as insight for the future, and not being overly impressed with the rest.

They move forward.





That is resilience.



A while back at a party, I spoke with a woman I hadn't seen in 10 years. When I asked her about herself, she said "there is a black cloud hanging over our family".








Throughout the evening, I over heard her talking with other friends nearby and I heard her say it 3 more times to 3 different people. It's her story, her truth.

I'm not saying, pretend we're happy when we're not. But I believe there is something to this idea of not crafting a story out of our pain, that we then have to stick to.

I don't have the answer, just the question: Why create storylines for our lives that box us in? Why tell and retell our pain stories that keep us looped into the past? Why not speak in such a way that is perhaps more groundless (saying that I've been going through a rough patch is not the same as committing to the story that there is a black cloud over me) I'm saying speak with an open-ness to the possibility of good, of relief, of peace, or abundance knocking on the door of our body/soul/life.

Things change. But if your story is set in stone, you might not notice.

4 comments:

  1. Yes... the power of language.
    It makes a difference to watch what we say and create with our words. There is a balance between acknowledging the pain we're in and adding suffering on top of it for sure !

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  2. It occurred to me recently, as I was contemplating the pain of heart break:
    It's only my heart
    It was meant for breaking
    Not that I'd like to make a steady diet of it, but without a tug how would I know
    my heart was even there?
    I have to trust that my heart
    has the resiliance to mend from a good break
    It's a muscle; knowing that helps
    It's a heart, too
    There's no limit to love

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  3. hey lisa - just checked out your blog for the first time (sorry i hadn't sooner!) and i loved this post. A-MEN sister is right! uh-huh. what you said.

    i know you may be going through a rough patch around your dad's health - i am sorry for that and sending very good thoughts your way! xo. w. :)

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