A Different Kind of Strength
Today, before meeting my soul sister for breakfast, I went for a walk in the park.
Walking in the park is not unusual for me. It is one of the ways I think, breathe, and reconnect with myself.
Yet today felt different.
Without consciously planning it, I took a different turn.
As I walked, the words "the path less travelled" kept repeating themselves in my mind.
I was not thinking about them analytically.
They simply accompanied me.
The path felt quieter.
My pace became slower.
Not the deliberate slowness of a formal walking meditation, something I have practised at times, but a more natural slowing down.
My body seemed to know what it needed.
I found myself moving more mindfully without trying.
The trees seemed different.
The air felt different.
The sounds of nature seemed clearer.
What struck me most was not what I was seeing but what I was feeling.
It was as though I was entering a different energy.
A quieter energy.
A gentler energy.
One that did not need to rush, achieve, prove, or solve.
As I walked, certain words began to emerge.
Words about strength.
For much of my life, I have felt drawn to water.
I have often thought of myself as being like water.
Water is gentle.
Water adapts.
Water flows around obstacles.
Yet water is also powerful enough to shape landscapes and carve valleys through rock.
Its strength is not found in force.
It is found in persistence.
In flexibility.
In its ability to keep moving.
Over time, water changes even the hardest surfaces it encounters.
I have always recognised something of myself in water.
I have also always been drawn to mountains.
To forests.
To great expanses of ocean.
These were not new discoveries.
The mountains were not different today.
The trees were not different.
The ocean was not different.
I was different.
Or perhaps more accurately, I was more present.
More able to receive what they had always been teaching.
As I walked, each seemed to reveal a different expression of strength.
The mountain spoke of steadiness.
It does not rush.
It does not chase.
It simply stands.
Storms come.
Seasons change.
Clouds gather and disappear.
Yet the mountain remains.
Its strength is not movement.
Its strength is presence.
The breath spoke of another kind of strength.
Quiet.
Constant.
Often unnoticed.
There is nothing dramatic about breathing.
Yet breath sustains life itself.
Moment by moment.
Day by day.
The breath does not demand attention.
It does not compete.
It simply continues.
Steady.
Faithful.
Reliable.
And perhaps there is great strength in that too.
The trees offered another lesson.
Trees are rooted.
Yet they are not rigid.
When the wind comes, they move.
When storms arrive, they bend.
Their strength lies not in resisting every force that meets them.
Their strength lies in flexibility.
In knowing when to hold firm and when to yield.
The strongest trees are not always the hardest.
Often they are the ones that know how to bend without breaking.
And then there was the forest itself.
A reminder that strength is not always individual.
Trees grow together.
Their roots connect beneath the surface.
They provide shelter, protection, and support.
A different kind of strength again.
The strength of connection.
The strength of belonging.
The strength of community.
And the ocean.
Vast.
Powerful.
Mysterious.
The ocean contains both stillness and force.
There are days when it is calm and reflective.
There are days when it is wild and untamed.
Yet both belong to the same body of water.
Its strength is found in its capacity to contain both.
As I reflected on these images, I found myself wondering whether age and experience gradually invite us into a different understanding of strength.
When we are younger, strength is often associated with endurance.
Effort.
Determination.
Achievement.
Survival.
Strength can be pushing through.
Holding everything together.
Carrying responsibilities.
Working harder.
Doing more.
There are seasons of life when those strengths are necessary.
They have certainly been necessary in my own life.
Yet I wonder if wisdom gradually introduces us to another kind of strength.
A quieter strength.
A strength that does not need to prove itself.
A strength that can bend without breaking.
A strength that can rest.
A strength that can grieve.
A strength that knows when to let tears flow.
A strength that understands that gentleness is not weakness.
In recent days, I have experienced profound joy and profound grief side by side.
A celebration.
An ending.
A beginning.
A remembering.
Only the night before, I had found myself allowing grief that had been waiting for many years.
I had cried.
I had remembered.
I had named what had remained unnamed.
As I walked today, I found myself wondering whether this quieter presence was connected.
Yesterday's reflection was about allowing grief.
Today's reflection felt like the first glimpse of what comes after grief has been welcomed.
Not happiness exactly.
Not relief.
Something quieter.
Something deeper.
Almost as though I had moved from the storm into the landscape that remains when the rain has passed.
The landscape had not changed.
Yet somehow I was seeing it differently.
Perhaps my walk today was showing me that strength is not always found in holding on.
Sometimes it is found in letting go.
Sometimes it is found in slowing down.
Sometimes it is found in taking the path less travelled and trusting where it leads.
As I walked beneath the trees, I felt less like I needed to force my way forward and more like I needed to listen.
To nature.
To my body.
To my heart.
To whatever wisdom was quietly emerging beneath the noise.
Water.
Mountain.
Breath.
Trees.
Ocean.
Forest.
Different forms of strength.
Different ways of being.
Perhaps all of them have something to teach me as I enter this next chapter of life.
And perhaps the deepest strength of all is not found in striving, enduring, or pushing forward.
Perhaps it is found in learning when to soften.
To trust.
To grieve.
To listen.
To flow like water.
To stand like a mountain.
To breathe.
To remain rooted like the trees.
A different kind of strength.
🌿
Dr Maliheh Taheri
M.A.L.I. Neuro-Somatic Practice
