Strength in Softness
I grew up in a world where being sensitive was seen as weakness. My dad, especially, thought it was really important to “toughen me up” in order to help me survive. He believed that if he didn’t toughen me up, the world would take advantage of me, and there would be no way I could successfully navigate it. I understand now that his desire to toughen me up came from wanting to protect me. But I’m learning that protection doesn’t always require armor.
Toughness isn’t the same as strength. It’s simply hardness. And hardness can make navigating an ever-changing world even harder.
So what if softness is actually strength?
Softness keeps me pliable. Softness allows me to learn. It helps me open myself up to new possibilities, new thoughts, and new ways of being. Instead of constricting me with the demand to control everything, do everything perfectly, and avoid all mistakes, softness allows me to open myself up and move through life with more ease and resilience.
These past several weeks, as I’ve enjoyed the book When The Ache Remains by Lisa Olivera, I’ve found myself sitting with the section on Strength in Softness. She writes:
“As soon as I softened, flow came. As soon as I let got of tensing wherever I could, presence was available. In surrender, I found strength.”
She then poses a series of questions that have challenged me in the midst of another move (into tiny-house living from my 4-bedroom house), in the midst of sorrow over the loss of a relationship with one of my children, as I juggle real estate clients, design clients, and try to find where I packed the laundry detergent so I can do a load of laundry.
As I live with boxes and disruption.
As I work long days to reestablish routine and get my work done.
I share them with you because these questions show me another way of coping with change and the difficult things that show up from time to time.
Can I soften into this?
Like you, I can put my head down and just power through. But maybe life doesn’t need to be lived like that anymore…
Powering through one crisis to the next. One task to another. Living for the next vacation.
What if there is another way?
Here are some of the questions Lisa Olivera poses:
Can my softness invite in more life?
Can my softness create more here-ness?
Even when it hurts, can I soften into the hurt?
Even when it aches, can I soften into the ache?
Can I soften into grief? Into rage?
Can I soften into fear? Into sadness?
Can I let connection keep me soft?
Can I let laughter keep me soft?
How might I soften here? And here? and here?
How might softening allow me to access more of what I need, of what matters most,
of my breath and of my life?
“There is strength in your willingness to soften. There is strength in your dropped shoulders, in your soft belly, your relaxed jaw. There is strength in your lowered defenses, in releasing the walls around your heart. There is strength in facing it all…”
So here is the beautiful paradox:
Sometimes the people who are strongest are the ones who have learned to stay connected to their softness. We don’t need to harden if we can trust our ability to repair, and trust that what we need comes to us in its own time.
This week I invite you to play with these questions. Return to them when you’re feeling agitated, afraid, lonely, disappointed, angry, resentful, tired, or simply out of ideas.
Can I soften into this?
Point of Practice?
Is there a place right now where you can sense you powering through and trying harder? Could that place benefit from you softening? Take a breath, relax for just a moment, and see what happens when you soften.