Strategy in a Storm

Image credit: © Nikolas217 | Dreamstime.com

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In so many ways, it can feel like the world is imploding. Things are scary for a lot of people right now, and that’s just the outermost layer. When our personal lives feel heavy, when the storms aren’t just raging outside our doors, but in our very homes and bodies as well, how do we stay focused on our purpose as we walk through the darkness, and how do we walk it with grace?

Survival-level wisdom is knowing what we need to prioritize in this season, even when it costs us emotionally, mentally, or even physically. That’s not weakness. That’s strategy in a storm. Maybe the situation is not what you dreamed, but it’s what’s here — and we must hold fast to our purpose without losing ourselves in the madness, regardless of the source of the madness. 

Faced with difficult choices, maybe you’re choosing what feels most necessary, knowing that it might be costing you something sacred. And that tension, say, between emotional safety and realizing a higher calling or personal safety and speaking truth to power, is SO real. That’s the heartbreak of being awake in a broken world, to be clear-eyed in the fog. You’re making hard choices for your higher-self-actualization, and that’s not nothing. That’s courage. 

While admirable, recognizing our own courage doesn’t lessen the distress over the enormity or intensity of the storm, does it? We need to take focused and intentional action, too. We’ve chosen our path, but we must still navigate the waves without capsizing.

Our strategy must shift from expansion to stabilization. It’s not about pushing forward harder. Rather, it’s about anchoring in, protecting the core, and adapting with resilience. In a storm, we hold the center. 

Think of it like sailing — when the wind gets wild, you don’t raise a sail. You reef them, adjust your heading, and ride it out smartly. Strategy in a storm means prioritizing what’s essential, deepening connections with our strongest allies, being creative with resources, and preparing for the skies to clear — because they eventually will — so that you’re ready to move swiftly with clarity and power. 

You are not responsible for the bad things happening in the world, but you can choose how to be a light for others in the darkness. You do not get to choose how those you care about treat you, but you can choose what you tolerate and why. Intentionality matters. It’s the difference between being lost in the fog and cutting through it with purposeful strides.

Life is hard and the world is incredibly messed up. When storms try to knock us off balance, it is our sacred duty to hold fast to our energetic center, to embody both the unmovable tranquility of the boulder amidst the rushing rapids, and the quick adaptability of the water flowing past obstacles. This is how we hold the line, both in our personal lives and in the world. It’s a practice, and though we may fail, we must keep at it. 

For every ending, there is a new beginning. That is inevitable. What IS in our power is the space in between — how we show up amidst the chaos and destruction, and how we prepare to be the architects of a better tomorrow, both in our personal lives and in the world at large. This is how we endure this human experience with our souls intact. This is how the light wins. So breathe, friends, deep, calming breaths, remembering, this is what we signed up for. And though the arrows may keep flying at us, we hold fast to our intentions, and we hold the line, with compassion, with integrity, and with grace.

Balancing higher-self-actualization with survival, holding gratitude and pain in the same breath — that’s sacred work, even when it feels messy. So, if today just needs to be a moment where someone says, “I see you. You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. You’re navigating the fire with bare feet and still somehow keeping your vision intact,” then, let that be enough for now. You are doing beautifully hard things. Keep breathing. Keep building. I’m walking alongside you.