“Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.”—Saint Francis de Sales
Life was hard when we were using. Part of why it was hard was the roughness with which we approached almost everything we did. We were rough to others and got roughness back in spades. When gentleness was all we needed, we would shove and bang and bluster and grab. We had little subtlety or delicacy to us. We would muscle our way through situations with scant regard for diplomacy, grace or sensitivity. And, if we ever were gentle, it was usually a phony ploy to soften up our mark before we made our score.
Part of inching into recovery was the revelation that we could often achieve more by a gentle, courteous MO, than we ever managed to pull off in our using days. Harshness, abrasiveness and passive-aggressive posturing surrendered to friendliness, care and supportiveness. And we discovered, to our delight, that such gentleness was reciprocated. Gentleness would shower upon us, just we gave to the world in a gentle manner.
Also to our delight, we discovered that to be gentle did not mean to be weak. Far from it. The more gentle we allowed ourselves to be, the stronger our energy, the stronger our spirit.
Today, let’s reflect on a person with whom we have been less than gentle in the past. Can we now see it in our hearts to make the change—and be gentle where once we were rough?
In the practice of quiet breath, the spirit of the gentle grows—and the blossom opens to the butterfly. We give naturally, we take naturally.
For today, we will sit and simply count our breaths. Let’s focus on our nostrils as we inhale gently and exhale gently without effort. Just be aware of the breath. A good way to enhance this practice is to count the exhalations as they pass out through your nostrils. Count ten breaths, then begin a new cycle of ten. Do as many cycles as feels wonderful to do.
I embrace the spirit of the gentle—and I feel the quiet strength.