Deep-Rooted Resilience

My career coach and I have become good friends and we met today to connect on life, and work, and what’s next for each of us. Much as we would love to catch up over steaming cups of tea on a cold March day, we both agreed a walk in the fresh air, amid the wind, the trees, and the sky would give energy to our talk and to our day. Literally moving forward with our bodies, as we talked about moving forward in our lives.

We found a beautiful state park halfway between our homes, a place neither of us has visited. As we each pulled off the highway and then to the park, we found snow-dusted mountains, blanketed with pines and a reservoir glistening as if peppered with diamonds. We arrived one right after the other and stepped out of our cars into a warm embrace. It was so good to see one another in person, as much of our work and connection of late has been by phone.

We made our way along a snow and mud covered trail, thick with fallen branches, pine needles and changing vistas – walking from the expanse of the reservoir to a narrow estuary fed by babbling waterfalls. What a treasure this place was to us for a visit to share what we’ve learned about ourselves, progress we’ve made, and moments when we’ve stumbled. It was a conversation I love to have – authentic and beautiful to the core about doing life as best as we can and growing into ourselves, no matter our age.

All along the way, my friend and I paused with awareness of our surroundings; taking moments to drink in the surprises of nature we were seeing and occasionally snap a photo. On one such instance, my friend looked up said, “Did you notice how the trees are swaying so deeply in the wind and yet stand so strong?”

“A brilliant lesson of resilience,” I said.

“Yes, deep-rooted resilience,” she replied with a smile, as she watched the dancing trees.

I’m so glad she saw this lesson playing on nature’s stage before us and shared it with me. After all, deep-rooted-resilience-building is the work of her life. We both stood there in silence for a time, marveling at how easily nature bends – a quality that is so difficult for we humans to cultivate. To ebb and flow and at the same time remain grounded into the great unknown of life, and living fully into the mystery.

Sono luce (I am light) – and so are you,



Copyright 2018 Angela Martin

Guest post by Angela Martin, a seeker of truth, beauty and goodness, and writer and award-winning author who writes on her contemplative journey in the second half of life. Angela is co-leading the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage with Nancy Murray, September 14-23, 2018.