Resilience

“A strong wind may topple the sturdy oak, but the willow bends and lets the wind pass through.”

Life sends plenty our way; a belligerent person, hardships, changes. To stand like an oak tree and hold your ground gets rewarded in society. Glorified even. Over time, these oak trees get brittle, and when their brute force wanes, their egos suffer. The tough oak breaks. They are too rigid to bend. 

The willow trees among us sway when hardships appear. Being a willow doesn’t mean you have no boundaries or that you can’t advocate for your needs and wants. And it certainly doesn’t mean you have to tolerate. A willow tree isn’t a doormat. There is a quiet strength and a calm courage about the willows. The harder the wind blows and the more they bend, the stronger they seem to bounce back.       

My book, “Our Essence Survives,” is about the strength and courage of the Germans from Romania. My ancestors had the strength, courage and determination of a willow tree. A resilience passed down for generations. 

Bending like a willow is NOT passive. It is not a weakness. It’s a mindful decision to let the storm buffet, and even tear off some branches. But you can stay rooted strong like a willow, with watering from your support network, your self-care, your personal spirituality. It’s putting up with all storms, knowing that it’s temporary.

The Accordionist

The grey case clasps snap open. A red velvet covers the portable piano. He pushes the cloth aside onto the cover, exposing the pristine instrument. With great care, he hoists the leather straps to his shoulders. Anticipation builds as he sits on a kitchen chair, puffs on a cigarette, and takes a big gulp of beer. He unsnaps the bellow top and bottom. A C major exhales forth. Lanky fingers tickle a D minor while pushing the bellow closed. His audience grows. Another puff. Another gulp. Requests fill the air. But everyone knows that “The Little Brown Jug” will be the first. He repositions the accordion on one knee and starts a beat on the other. Various waltzes and polkas fill the wee hours of the night. Sometimes a new song that he heard on the radio gets practiced. The ivory keyboard and black buttons get little relief until the last song, “Wooden Heart.” My daddy, the Accordionist.

Hotel Handicap Accessible?

I don’t understand hotel handicap rooms. A handicap room, more often than not, involves an elevator. Okay, a room upstairs. Usually located down two long corridors. At the last possible room. Next to the fire escape stairs. This choice to install handicap rooms near a fire escape baffles me. Maybe if they installed a slide too it would make sense. I guess a handicapped person could roll their body down the steps in case of a fire. And can you imagine the poor firefighter who has to carry you down these steps or a ladder? I requested handicap accommodations before my knee surgeries and experienced the inconvenience of said rooms. Some Hotels still have me on a handicap room list. Which someday, unfortunately, I will need again due to hip issues. So, I sympathize with those who need a handicap room. The exhaustion of using a walker or cane to get to these rooms can be so overwhelming. Plus, a wheelchair rarely fits the space deficient handicap room. (An ample bathroom without a swing out glass door or a tub to crawl over would be nice). My recommendation is to request a ground floor room and ask questions about that rooms accommodations. Because Handicap Accessible isn’t always the best choice.

“Our feet take us everywhere.  Really take a moment to sit and think about the many places your feet have taken you in your lifetime.  WOW!  It is powerful when we think about the responsibility of our feet in this way.  Make sure to take time to honor and appreciate them for their many experiences in your life; past, present and future!” — Sheryl Burns