For the longest time, I hated hearing people tell me "It could be worse," or even go so far as to compare their woes to mine; as if every minute difference of our worlds changed the personal weight those woes bore on our souls. Even early on I understood the complexity of perception in the social reality of humans, yet it wasn't enough to grasp the core purpose for those words, those comparisons. Be grateful for what you have.

Seems simple enough, right? Yeah, sure, easy as getting a burger in a driver-thru... until you have to wait for it, and suddendly that convienence isn't convienent anymore; it's time consuming and you're compelled to complain (or huff maybe.) Meanwhile, someone in the same town or city is probably searching for scrapes to eat, out of the garbage. Every time we complain about something, or let ourselves get irritated, we're forgetting to be grateful. 

Having been someone who not only didn't know how to spell it, but certainly didn't even feel grateful enough to be alive, I realizedit takes a lot of strength to truly live a life of gratitude. Not a phyisical strength, but a mental one.

Think about it.

| another_proser |

I lie awake

desperate to sleep

uncontrollably shaking

breathing deep

Heart racing

a wandering mind

the night no comfort

no rest, it’s unkind

Uncontrollable weeping

is haunting me

no rhyme, no reason

I long to be free

Indecision hounds

my every move

unthinkable thoughts

I need to soothe

Pure exhaustion

now tires my eyes

depression is the bitch

that fucks with my mind

I dread the light dawning

in fear of the day

what will it be

why am I this way?

Sometimes I wonder

if not waking

would resolve

this dreaded path I’m taking

The morning arrives

and I’ve had little sleep

my inner strength

so bruised and weeps

Yet somehow I find

the will to carry on

to endure another day

and in some way stay strong.

Why is it that you haven't noticed me yet?

Perhaps my hair isn't as blonde as the other girls',

(or maybe it's that my hair isn't blonde period)

Is it that my lips aren't as red?

Or that my eyelashes aren't as long?

(It can't be that, can it? I mean, mine are just as long as all theirs, without the mascara)

Maybe it's that my legs aren't as slender or that

My body isn't as small.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's because you can't handle a girl that knows her worth.

Maybe it's because I have an opinion and won't cower down when confronted.

Maybe it's because you can't see who a girl is past her tits- because that's really all a girl is to you.

No, perhaps it's me who hasn't noticed you for what you are.

What is strength? How do we measure it? Some say it's the ones who can lift the heaviest loads, some say it's the ones with the highest mental resilience, those who never break no matter how great the pressure. Some say it's the strength in numbers. But what is physical strength without intelligence, mental resilience without empathy, and strength in numbers without cooperation?

Strength is nothing, and everything by itself. We all have strength, we all need strength, the force required to exert authority, to gain respect, to ensure our own survival. But strength isn't just that.

We all have our strengths and our weaknesses. Our good sides and our bad sides. Strength is but a measure of how accomplished you are, of how much potential you have towards success.

But strength isn't everything. Neither is wit, or stealth.

Strength is nothing if not used to its fullest potential, and even then, it still isn't everything. We all have strength. We need strength. But we also need values. Morals. Intelligence. We need each other, and we need ourselves.

Strength is but another part of the Balance, a measure of who we are.

Strength is everything. Strength is nothing.

Strength is an instrument, and we are the players.

I love to watch my husband's lips and listen to the sound of his voice when he says the word, "strength" as if he was some pupil in a grammar class out of the 1950s keeping the "g" silent.  It occurs to me that silent g is really the verb form of actualizing the strength inside. Not like some gangly g-sounding s t r e n g t h that goes boasting about with unfelt bravado trying to prove that as it reverberates through the air the decibel level of fear cannot be discerned by any listener nearby.

The quiet strength to overcome ourselves in overcoming others.  The willingness to accept what is and surrender about what isn't.  The courage to ask our higher selves for a change in our perspectives, a map for a different pathway rather than taking the well worn smoothed out path that our synapses have always travelled.

Inside strength waits quietly within our hearts to be activated from the depth charges of releasing our ego.  Trusting that in the quiet, quiet hush of darkness a light will dawn, stairs to climb out will be found, strength to go on will be given even as the storms outside rage on in their convincing ways.

My favorite Yoga teacher used to tell us to breath into our "mula bandha" or root lock of our chakras and bodies to bring strength up and out through our entire bodies so that we could have a sense of really being rooted as we stretched up and out to the sky giving us strength and flexibility to move into whatever pose was next. In this way, we become rooted in our strength yet flexible enough to bend and allow the wind to flow through and around us instead of knocking us off balance.

Strength with a silent "g", ever flexible and able to blow in the wind but staying rooted in our sense of being-ness.