Resilience
This week's word for me is resilience. Interestingly, it is also today's Inspirit Garden word. When I first pulled it, I thought “resilience” might be asking me to be strong. To endure. To keep going. But the more I sit with it, the more I think “resilience” is inviting another perspective.
Recently, I've noticed a loneliness lingering beneath the surface. Not the loneliness of being abandoned. Not the loneliness of being unloved. Not the loneliness of being actually alone. Something else. Something I've had difficulty articulating in conversations. As I ponder the current energy, recent activities, and my word for this week, I am aware that the loneliness I'm experiencing and having difficulty describing is that of standing between identities.
Over the past year, life has changed quickly for me; children becoming adults. Many of my roles are shifting. Businesses are growing. Dreams evolving. Pieces of myself expanding beyond old definitions. Each one is true. None of them are complete. Mother. Wife.Friend. Sister. Aunt/Niece/Cousin. Artist. Creator. Intuitive Painter. Coach. Author. Business owner. Empty nester. A woman becoming……
Lately, my unconscious has been bringing questions to the surface: What if the “things” I rely on disappear? And If everything changed, would I still know who I am? A recent dream reflected this symbolically: I found myself stranded in a massive parking structure. It was dimly lit. My car was out of gas. I had no money. Everyone I loved was gone. Surrounded by mist, I couldn't clearly see the way forward. When I woke from what felt like a nightmare, I explored more deeply what the dream was showing me throughout the day. It was showing me a metaphor for transition. A parking structure is not a destination. It is a place between destinations. And perhaps that is where many of us find ourselves at different seasons of life. Between who we were and who we are becoming. Between familiar structures and unexplored possibilities. Between certainty and having to trust the unknown.
The resilience I'm discovering has little to do with toughness or strength. Moss and its symbolism is a 2026 theme, and this resilience feels more like moss. Growing quietly on the side of a stone, or clinging to the bark of a tree. Softening what is hard. Finding a way to belong exactly where it is. I know resilience is not pretending something didn't hurt. Nor is it avoiding grief, uncertainty, or change. It is the quiet knowing that even when the path ahead isn't fully visible, I will find my footing again. Not because I have all the answers. But because I have done so before. Still breathing. Still growing. Still here. Still becoming.
💜 Love & Light, Erika
