Almost every epic offers a story of resilience. Maybe as a reminder that we all possess resilience. Or maybe that we don’t, or at least that we all don’t, or that we all don’t all the time so the stories show ways to build resilience. Or maybe that we have all gotten here in no small part because of the resilience of our family or spiritual forebears, the resilience of our own bodies, our own souls, our own stories.
Now if you read the word “resilience” with trepidation, you’re no doubt wise to. “Resilience” can be used as a weapon. Too often intoned with judgments about “getting over” the dark patches of life. About “bouncing back” often well before it’s time. All of this actively works against genuine challenge, genuine grief, genuine dismay, and, frankly, the genuine growth that comes from those dark places (or as poet David Whyte would have it, “Sweet Darkness”) where living goes deep.
But the “Dark Night of the Soul” (even in its original, albeit Christian Orthodox, form) offers another opportunity for practicing resilience. A place of life-giving depth, the richness of soil, the pregnant possibilities of the womb. Not a place to be “gotten over,” or even through or, worse, avoided-at-all-costs; but a place of rich soul work, of beauty, of insight, of grace, a place devoutly to be wished, welcomed, and honored.
In this holy space of stories both epic and personal, individual and connected; through our mission to celebrate life, nourish the spirit, and inspire justice; we create together a whole-hearted space of spirit, of healing, and of transformation. Resilience is the courageous act of allowing ourselves to be inspired by all life, to live more deeply because of adversity, to thrive through discomfort, to be transformed by challenge, and to allow all of life’s experiences to inspire us to fully occupy the soul.
You’re invited to enter this place of transformation, to practice resilience, to come as you are and become who you’re inspired to be.