The morning was like porcelain, like I always imagine winter's soul to be, fragile and beautiful. And it had such a sense of comfort to it, because of that vulnerability. I knew any rain might fall, any icy wind might come, but whatever did would be from the heart of the world, and I would breathe through it as always.
People talk about the importance of being strong, but there is such a truthfulness to vulnerability - I think it must be what angel light is made from. Not the power of strength, but the promise of love and hope.
We need strength in our communities - not a hard, fierce strength, but a steadiness in the service of love. We need softness too. After all, the strong hand is not wanted to pick tiny healing herbs from amongst forest undergrowth. The strong hand is reminded, gentle, when stroking a baby's cheek. There has always been deep wisdom, shamanic sacred wisdom, and a genuine liberation to be found, in letting go of holding on.
Besides, true strength - not power or force, but that which sets us upright and keeps us moving on - isn't something we necessarily make inside ourselves, like a quality of our blood or nerves. We get our strength from the love of family and friends. from inspiration, encouragement. From rest, peace, comfort, and nourishment.
Maybe we could even say that strength is not a single quality, but is woven from many threads of kindness, care, and trust.
These days I have seen so clearly that many people are less able, or less willing, to hold a space of love and comfort for others. I hope we do not make this world so hard that it can no longer grow wild, weedy, beautiful.