THE STRENGTH OF WEAKNESS

On Laurel Lake in the Berkshires

8.2.15

     This morning I went for a peaceful float on the lake, and was surprised, as always, by the strength of the water. As I easily drifted on the surface, I wondered how something so soft can be so strong? How can water, which sometimes seems the weakest and most insubstantial of materials, easily hold up my body, to say nothing of ships of astonishing size? I suppose it has something to do with the strange strength inherent in all weakness. I once knew a man who, though bed-ridden with a paralyzing illness, radiated the rarest kind of power. To stand beside the bed of this debilitated man was to feel almost afloat on his joyful inner strength. And what about air, that seemingly flimsy presence all around us? Does it not sometimes sweep through our neighborhoods with incredible power, as though something fragile suddenly found the force it always had? Tomorrow, I think I’ll keep a lookout for the strength in weakness – perhaps how the smallest birds soar easily across the lake, or how soft sunlight lights up an entire valley, or how old, furrowed fingers can type words that sometimes speak.