BodyLogos Blog
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Redefining Strength
I want to change our perception of strength. Strength is the ability to meet resistance and influence an outcome without compromising ourselves. And we already have it.
Strength is not an attribute; it’s a state of being. Gladiators, bodybuilders, and football players demonstrate strength through brute force, sheer willpower, muscle mass, and relentless pursuit. But we’re also quick to identify dancers and martial artists as strong. Their medium taps into a sense of vulnerability, balance, alignment, controlled power, and grace—but no one can deny their strength. Strength may look different on each of us, but it is an inherent part of who we are.
You are not weak by nature; you are stronger than you think. Your strength is not something you need to kill yourself to gain—it is already within you, waiting to be excavated. The key is to stop chasing something you already have and tap into it, so you can manifest that strength in your everyday life.
Because we don’t think we’re strong, we approach resistance with the idea that we’re not enough. We throw everything we have at it and push past our physical, mental, and emotional limitations. We see strength as domination, but it’s not.
When you learn to listen to your body’s divine wisdom, you cultivate a sense of where your body is developing tension instead of standing in its strength. You end the vicious cycle of unrealistic expectations, injury, and self-criticism and learn how to consciously embrace responsible growth. You stop compartmentalizing your strength into emotional, physical, and mental pieces and operate from the strength of your being at all times.
You learn how to align yourself with gravity—instead of working against it—so you can channel your strength to meet life’s resistance. As you meet resistance with equal parts power and alignment, you transform tension into strength
As in the sword dance above, the power lies in bringing just the right amount of force—not too little and not too much. By meeting the sword’s weight, I meet gravity. I am tapped into a larger source of energy, free of tension, and discover a strength that is wholly and uniquely mine.
How the Dead Communicate
by Tammy WiseMy sister’s last days, once released from the COVID ward, was in an induced coma on a respirator. We all wondered if she could hear us talking at her bedside? And, I for one, continue to wonder if she can hear now that she’s dead?
On the welcome table of my sister’s thrift shop, now run solo by her best friend and business partner—Missy, stood a new center piece protected by a glass globe. It was a construction paper sculpture of an eagle, crafted around an empty toilet paper roll.
Missy explained that her granddaughter came home from school, overjoyed about her art project and said, “this is from GG Sherry.” (That’s what she called my sister!)
Missy continued to explain that when sitting at my sister’s bedside, between respirator beeps and nurse intrusions, she had asked my sister to give her a sign when she was peacefully settled on the other side.
And, as she described it, it was ‘agreed upon’ that the sign would be channeled through a large bird.
There it was. An eagle made of construction paper, channeled through a child, communicating my sister’s peaceful arrival in the land of the dead.
I was delighted by the story and my time with Missy, who gives me a kind of sister-hit whenever I stop by the store! When I left, I went about my day of responsibilities, driving mom to doctors and managing her needs and stuff at the Senior Facility where she lives. The paper eagle was out of mind.
Then something extraordinary happened!
After learning that, what had been my sister’s home, was now going to be rented out and would no longer house my mom’s extra-stuff. I started my drive back to NY in tears. My sister’s family was moving on. I felt totally alone in caring for my mom.
These are the moments I miss my sister the most.
Suddenly, a hawk with a wing-span the width of my windshield swooped down in front of me. Sharing the same wind current at 50-miles an hour, this huge bird and I breathed the same air!
Without hesitation I cried out, “Sherry?!”
And, as if she was sitting right beside me I heard, “you got this, just rise above the ache in your heart.”
Then, just as quickly as she arrived, she rose up into the sky out of sight.
There it was. A hawk traveling at 50-miles an hour, channeled by my heart’s cry, communicating my sister’s fierce support in the land of the living.
It’s so easy for the mind to discount the idea of channeled communications from the dead. But the body hasn’t the capacity to dismiss such pure connections. My experience with the hawk was as real as writing these words.
We are, after all, made of energy. In life contained; in death dispersed. In either case, love is the thread that weaves us together. A love that never dies. A love, I’m learning, that lives eternally.