Sometimes I’m shaky. Rarely physically—I’m in good health, so almost always strong in body. Yet in thoughts and feelings—that’s where sometimes I’m shaky, sometimes I’m strong. And more and more, I’m ok with that. I’m discovering a new level of being where they co-exist well. While it’s not always comfortable, I’m learning to recognize what is happening. I’m learning to walk with vulnerability and strength hand in hand.
I keep re-discovering again and again that true personal strength and authentic presence are rooted in being deeply honest with myself about what’s going on in my inner world. And honest with myself about where I am on the spectrum between strong and shaky. I’m learning more about letting myself be wherever I am on that spectrum and feel whatever I feel without getting lost in the feelings or the shakiness.
However, that learning can only happen when I give myself time and space to be fully present with those feelings and with the thoughts that they trigger. Feeling shaky has become a signal to pay attention—a sign that I need to listen to the feelings and thoughts that are causing my shakiness, ask them what they are trying to tell me, and take care of them and myself. When I don’t give time and space to those feelings and thoughts, they begin to create cracks in my presence—cracks in how I show up. Unconsciously, they start to take over. Yet when I stand in my strength and give those feelings space and attention—when I respect and honor my shakiness—vulnerability and strength begin to walk hand in hand. I am more whole. And it is my wholeness that defines who I am rather than my shakiness.
Feeling vulnerable is a signal that we are touching something raw or tender or fragile within us—something that wants to be protected or respected or honored—some part of us that needs to be listened to and allowed to heal. You may remember from previous articles that the word “heal” comes from the Old English word hælen which means “to make whole.” To come to our own wholeness—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. The spectrum of human emotions is wide. The greater our awareness of what is happening around us and within us, and the greater our skill in staying present with our feelings and emotions and giving them space to breathe without losing ourselves in the intensity of the moment, the more we can recognize vulnerability as a powerful aspect of authentic strength.
Feeling vulnerable is only a weakness when we become overwhelmed by feelings and emotions. The more self-aware we are and the more we take good care of our inner world, the better equipped we are to consciously choose how we will show up to what is happening in our outer world. And the better we get at choosing to show up in our wholeness, the more our vulnerability becomes a vital part of our strength. Because then we are standing in the truth of who we are. We aren’t running away from any part of ourselves. We might be shaky, but we’re still showing up and bringing all of ourselves to the table. We are fully aware of all that is happening deep inside and are consciously choosing the presence we will bring to the moment.
What I keep learning is that the more comfortable I become with my own vulnerability and letting myself feel what I feel, the more honest and dependable and authentic my inner strength becomes. I don’t have to have it all figured out, I don’t have to have all the answers, and I don’t have to push any part of me away. I can show up in the whole of who I am. Which gives me greater strength, courage, honesty, compassion, and resilience to face whatever challenge or opportunity stands in front of me.
Words that lift me up
I collect poems, quotes, and inspired words that lift me up. Sometimes they show me something new, yet more often they give me deeper insight or new perspective on something I am already experiencing. Today, I share four recent finds with you. They all bring perspective to “shaky and strong” in one way or another.
The first is a short poem by Kristina Mahr. Take a moment first to read the short poem in its original form. And then I will offer a further invitation.
I am not sad, but
I have sadness in me.We have a deal, sadness and I.
I tend to it once or
twice a day, stirring it,
touching it, letting it drip from
my fingertips.And in return,
it doesn’t
flood me.
—Kristina Mahr
I love the simplicity of Kristina Mahr’s words. And how honest and completely practical her “deal” with sadness is. She is giving it attention—getting up close and personal with it—yet not allowing her sadness to take over her life. She isn’t trying to hurry it along or get rid of it or even transform it. She’s simply willing to be with it. They’ve made a deal to work through it together.
I also love how she wrote the last stanza with an extra space between each line. There is spaciousness and breath even in how those lines appear on the page. As she tends to it once or twice a day, she gives her sadness space and breath.
You may not be feeling sadness these days, yet there might be another feeling or emotion that won’t let go of you. Read the poem again, this time inserting the feeling that is with you. For example, when she writes, I am not sad, but I have sadness in me, you might replace “sadness” with “anger”—I am not angry, but I have anger in me. Or perhaps more appropriate for you might be: I am not anxious, but I have anxiety in me, or I am not afraid, but I have fear in me. Insert whatever words feel right for you and see what begins to shift in your relationship with what you are feeling.
A second recent find is wisdom from a Celtic prayer poem (author unknown) about grief. As with Kristina Mahr’s poem, take a moment to read the lines as written first. Then come back to the beginning and insert the feeling or emotion that is asking for your energy and attention right now. Allow the wisdom of do not hurry and be gentle with yourself to work on you. And if by chance you are so overwhelmed emotionally that you can’t give a name to what you are feeling, it’s ok. Simply replace “grief” with “your feelings.”
Do not hurry as you walk with grief,
It does not help the journey.Walk slowly, pausing often;
Do not hurry as you walk with grief.Be not disturbed by memories
that come unbidden,
Be gentle with yourself.
Walk slowly, pausing often.
Take time.
Be gentle as you walk with grief.—Adapted from Celtic writings by George MacDonald
Psychotherapist, author, and soul activist Francis Weller wrote:
Grief and love are sisters, woven together from the beginning. Their kinship reminds us that there is no love that does not contain loss and no loss that is not a reminder of the love we carry for what we once held close.
—Francis Weller
You could say that anger and love are siblings, or fear and love, or devastating hurt and love. We wouldn’t be swept up in such strong emotion if we weren’t touching something we loved deeply. Underneath any strong emotion is something that matters to us more than we might have realized—a deep value, a core belief, an undeniable love. When we stay in touch with the love, vulnerability can be a powerful sibling and partner to strength. So, no matter what the feeling is that won’t let go of you, what new perspective opens when you look at it as a sibling of love?
Finally, words from Okinawan-Irish-American poet Brenda Shaughnessy:
Strength means honoring your entire range of emotion, even your despair and heartbreak. It means acknowledging each of those feelings, your questions and ideas and faith and terror, and meeting what comes with the full force of your heart.
—Brenda Shaughnessy
Sometimes I’m shaky, sometimes I’m strong. I’m getting better at accepting and embracing “shaky” and the honesty and truth that it brings to the table even as I choose to stand strong in who I am, in what I believe, in what I sense is right for the moment at hand. Brenda Shaughnessy’s words say it all: Strength means honoring your entire range of emotion, and meeting what comes with the full force of your heart.
When I bring all of myself to the table, vulnerability and strength can stand hand in hand.
