Strength and Flexibility

     A couple weeks ago, at an assisted stretching session gifted me by a dear friend to celebrate my PhD milestone reached this spring, I learned something surprising. My natural flexibility was doing me a disservice. Three times a week, during morning yoga sessions, I reveled in my ability to reach past my toes. I lay with my arms stretched behind me, folded neatly over my feat, my shoulder blades barely touching the floor. Standing in Warrior II, I extended my arms to the far corners of my TV room, feeling like a string of dental floss that knew no bounds.  And yet, my left shoulder clicked and my knee twinged. My lats were out of whack.  I seemed to be coming apart at the seems.

My "flexologist," who happened to be a yoga instructor as well, admonished me. "You are letting yourself melt into the poses, " she said. "You need to focus on your strength."

Flexibility and strength have sustained these live oaks for hundreds of years

Her statement seemed somehow more profound to me than mere exercise advise. My body was suffering new ailments, and my mind, in sympathy, had taken to flinging itself in all directions, entertaining possibilities and living in the future conditional tense. Tense. I vacillated between moods of brittle resolve and bouts of confusion wherein even the impossible seemed possible. 

I have always prided myself on my flexibility, both physical and mental. I try never to reject unfamiliar perspectives without giving them due consideration. Any viewpoint may have its merits. This has made me a skilled oral historian. I lean into empathy and follow lines of inquiry, trying my best to see through someone else's eyes. Likewise, I have believed that my mental plasticity helps me adapt to new circumstances. Change is the only constant, after all, and I need to be ready.

And yet, all my comfort with "what if" and "perhaps" was not helping me adapt to the reality of life as a 42-year-old mother in 2026. I worried about everything, and I filled myself to saturation with possibilities and perspectives. So many of the ways of seeing the world I encountered were mutually incompatible, sometimes even self-contradictory. And yet, I insisted on giving every idea what I believed to be its due. 

But suddenly, with the words of my flexologist echoing in my mind, I began to think seriously about strength. What were the sources of my strength? If I was nothing but flexibility, was I destined to turn into putty and melt into the sidewalk?

Rabbi Sandra Lawson shared a profound insight in a reflection on Dolly Parton's legacy a day after the world learned of her death at the age of 80. Dolly was beloved by so many. As Rabbi Lawson observed, in agreement with journalist Audie Cornish, she was "political but not partisan." She took a stand, and she led with her values. 

Flexibility is like tolerance. It enables a person to test new ideas and find peace in chaotic environments. And yet, it must be tempered with the strength of convictions so that the person remains amidst all the changing circumstances. We may come from dust and return to dust, but in this life, we are here. 

What, then, are my core values? What are the bones and muscles that keep me whole and strong?

Brainstorming over the past few days, I have found eight things that I value in myself and others:

• Diversity
• Curiosity
• Compassion
• Discernment
• Rigor
• Proportionality
• Grace
• Integrity

Other important concepts rely on the support of these eight pillars. When I say I value "freedom," I realize that I cannot value freedom without proportionality. When I say I value "stewardship," these are the aspects of nature and society worth sustaining. When I say I value "democracy," it must be built on these pillars to be just.

As is usual for me in the month of Elul, when I am doing teshuvah and attempting to return to myself, it is useful to remember what that self is made of. Of course, I will falter and make mistakes. I will follow a new idea until the path disappears. I will be overcome with lassitude, or self-righteousness, or self-pity. I will sit with despair and allow it to replace the blue of the sky. I will doubt myself and block up the imaginative pathways to a better world. But in those moments, I need to lean into the tension, to stop melting and find my solid core again. 

Flexibility and strength are essential in equal measure.