Anchoring.
Steady the soul before the storm hits.
Darling, you know you don’t have to hit rock bottom before facing reality, yes? No matter how much life has gone your way up until now, no matter how much control you’ve felt you have, there is an intricately personal storm waiting for you — and it won’t consider your plans, your dreams, your timing.
I don’t mean to instill fear, dear, but there’s an illusion of sovereignty easily embraced by those of us in our twenties and thirties especially. We forget our humanity until we’re face-to-face with something we cannot control, something that reveals our fragility. A grandparent passing away. Then a parent. A crushing diagnosis. Losing the romance into which your entire heart was poured.
Suffering visits us all. It is an inescapable part of being human, yet many of us increase our pain by delaying the anchoring. What gives our sorrows meaning? While that question is notoriously difficult to answer, I had to start asking myself first, “What am I doing to prepare for the suffering that will inevitably meet me?”
“Those who are prudent see danger and take refuge,
but the naïve continue on and suffer the consequences.”
And so we ponder prudence. They call her queen of the virtues, guiding right action* through wisdom. (Aquinas) Prudence helps you discern what is the right thing to do in a specific moment. It’s not just theoretical, but practical: What should I do here and now? Is this the right time, place, way, and reason?
*Examples of Right Action:
Saying no to something tempting but harmful
Acting generously even when no one sees
Following your conscience even when it costs you something
Caring for someone in need, even if it’s inconvenient
This year broke me, yet I know it was only a sliver of what is to come. As talented as humans are, we cannot command the weather for nature obeys God’s voice, not ours. (Jer. 10:13) So when the winds rise and you cannot stand any longer, who will be your refuge? Where have you anchored your soul?
Maybe you feel like there’s no urgency, that you’ve got time, and that you’re capable of moving the pieces how you like. I thought so too, but sinking is not a prerequisite to revelation. It’s better to save yourself from illusion early on than to have it all come crashing down before you’ve rooted yourself in something stronger; before the death, sickness, heartache, and loss.
If you can’t surrender your pride for your soul, then do it for the people you love — because the fruit you bear by letting go of self-deification will bring light, unfolding truth, and a glimpse of divine love. (Matt. 7:17-20)
Softly,
Solée
