“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
–Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
The recent U.S. election wasn’t just unsettling; it re-traumatized me.
I’ve spent weeks reflecting on why this event affected me so profoundly and uncovered parallels that explain the intensity of my reaction. Watching a convicted felon and twice-impeached man rise to power again, I noticed old behaviors and patterns re-emerging in myself—behaviors tied to some of the deepest wounds I carry.
Fear crept back in, not as a fleeting moment but as a familiar, consuming presence.
Suddenly, I found myself bracing, avoiding, complying—patterns I had only just begun replacing with healthier, more supportive behaviors since the summer of 2024. A sense of safety and agency I had build meticulously seemed to vanish overnight.
I felt unsafe, unprotected, and powerless, unable to change the situation.
My body returned to survival mode, reverting to what it knew: suppressing my feelings, hiding, and bending to perceived authority, all in an effort to avoid standing out or becoming a target.
These behaviors mirrored the choices of those who voted for Trump.
Just as my puppet-self complied with my mother’s demands to create a false sense of safety, I saw how people might bend to authoritarian figures to escape uncertainty or fear.
My compliant parts, still tied to the patterns my mother instilled, acted out this old script, even though she has been gone for 17 years. It was as though her influence lived on, etched into my reflexes.
And yet, within me, there were other parts.
The wild one, the free spirit, the compassionate and empathic parts that refuse to conform to fear or control. These are the parts of me that strive for equality, fairness, and justice—the parts that embrace diversity and plurality, the ones that fight for voices to be heard.
These parts hold values that align astonishingly well with what the Democratic party stands for: equity, inclusion, and the courage to embrace complexity.
This internal split—between compliance and courage, between bending and standing tall—left me braced against myself.
I recognized that my rigid response was rooted in deep fear, not strength.
For the past two years, I've practiced a different approach. Instead of fighting fear, I've learned to soften into it, meeting it with compassion. Fear doesn’t leave room for avoidance; the only way forward is through it.
Moving through fear isn't about forcing confrontation—it's about softening, about meeting myself with sincerity and care.
This practice lives in my body.
When I align my spine—upright, flexible, and balanced—I feel an inner spaciousness. This posture holds more than physical integrity; it reflects emotional and mental steadiness. In these moments, I experience a sense of sublimity.
My body supports me, not through rigidity but through its ability to hold strength and flexibility at once.
Tara Brach describes this approach as a courageous heart. It is the practice of staying present with discomfort while holding it with kindness.
Roshi Joan Halifax describes a "soft front and strong back," which perfectly captures this interplay I've been cultivating.
A strong back gives me the stability to remain grounded and aligned. A soft front allows me to welcome life as it is, with trust and openness.
When these two meet, I find a place I call the brave, tender ground. This is where strength and vulnerability coexist. It is, where I begin to reclaim the parts of myself that had been exiled.
In this space, I am not bracing against the world or collapsing into it—I am standing, soft yet steady, open to the possibilities that emerge from this balance.
This is why I invite you to reflect on these themes.
The interplay of strength and softness, of vulnerability and resilience, offers a way to move forward—not by resisting fear, but by meeting it with a balance that creates spaciousness and possibility
Intention: Vulnerability
Vulnerability is the courage to be open, authentic, and emotionally exposed, despite the inherent risks of rejection or misunderstanding. It allows for deeper connections and the cultivation of trust. Vulnerability is not about weakness but about embracing the strength in showing up as one truly is, with all imperfections.
Vulnerability in buddhist practice aligns best with the concepts of kshanti (patience) and metta (loving-kindness). They involve accepting the uncertainty of life and remaining open-hearted in the face of challenges. There is no direct equivalent to vulnerability.
Inspiration to Achieve the Intention
Explore the practice of "storytelling through imperfection." Sharing a personal story where things didn’t go as planned, focusing on the emotions rather than the resolution, can foster connection and remind you that imperfection is relatable and humanizing. For instance, you could create a short video diary or share this story in a trusted group setting, practicing the art of being seen without hiding behind an idealized version of yourself.
Journaling Prompt
What would it feel like to share one truth about myself that I usually keep hidden? How might this act of sharing change the way I see myself and connect with others?
Hint: Imagine sharing this truth with someone who represents safety and acceptance in your life, even if that person is yourself. Explore the layers of fear and liberation that surface as you contemplate this act of openness.
Affirmation: I Am the Sublimity I Seek
I am the sublimity I seek, a harmonious balance between strength and tenderness.
My strong back supports me, flexible and unyielding, giving me the courage to stand firmly in my truth. My soft front remains open and unguarded, welcoming the world with compassion and trust.
This meeting place—where sturdy resilience merges with gentle vulnerability—is the sublime ground where my inner beauty unfolds.
I embody the grace of a mountain: steadfast in its core yet kissed by the winds and light that shape its surface.
With every breath, I honor the interplay between strength and softness within me, knowing that neither defines me alone but together reflect my infinite depth. In this tender, grounded space,
I no longer search for sublimity elsewhere; I live it, feel it, and radiate it with every step I take.
The essence of the affirmation is finding inner harmony by embracing both strength and vulnerability, allowing one's true beauty to emerge.
Journaling Prompt:
In what ways can you cultivate a space where your resilience and tenderness coexist, enhancing your personal growth and relationships?
Hint: Think about practices or environments that support both your assertiveness and empathy, and how these can be integrated into your daily life.
This intention and affirmation bring me back to the core of what I’ve been working toward: embracing vulnerability as an act of courage and balance. They remind me that strength and tenderness are not opposites but complementary forces that create harmony when held together.
As I reflect on these themes, I see how vulnerability connects to trust—both in myself and in the world around me.
It’s not about perfection or invincibility but about showing up with integrity, even when fear looms large. Vulnerability, as described here, asks me to be authentic and open while maintaining the strength to hold my ground.
This is where I find the sublime balance that allows me to stay rooted and resilient, even in uncertainty.
The affirmation deepens this understanding.
It invites me to embody both the sturdy resilience of a mountain and the gentle openness of the wind that shapes it. This interplay reminds me that I don’t need to seek sublimity outside myself—it’s already present when I honor the tension between strength and softness within.
For anyone exploring these themes, I encourage you to sit with the questions posed today.
How do you balance your need for protection with your desire to connect?
Where might softness allow you to grow, and where could strength help you stand more firmly in your truth?
This practice isn’t about arriving at a fixed destination. It’s about creating a space where resilience and tenderness can coexist, shaping a life that feels both grounded and expansive.
For me, this work is ongoing—a daily invitation to step into the brave, tender ground where strength and vulnerability meet.
With care and courage, Jay
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