we use the word “strength” in a number of ways. like so many words in english, especially the one syllable words, its uses are many.
most commonly, we use it to mean physical things: the capacity for moving heavy things is strength, after all. if someone else can move something that is heavier than i can move it, that person is stronger than me. strongman competitions are televised and feature men that are indeed, extremely strong.
similarly, we might apply the word to something we perceive as powerful or mighty: “the strength of our convictions”, for example, is an expression one encounters often, and describes the speaker’s dedication to a conviction: that dedication is powerful, or mighty.
and we use it to describe particularly well-developed aptitudes or abilities: if someone is especially good at, say, managing time, we describe that person’s time management skill as a strength. a number of soulcasters are quite skilled at cooking: for them, cooking is a strength.
it’s easy to see how the latter two usages arises from the first one. strength implies power and an exceptional capacity for doing or achieving. this same sense is implied when we speak of someone dealing from a position of strength and at a negotiating table, there is no position better than a position of strength.
but we might also use it to refer to what might be described as “inner” strength: the capacity to be mentally or emotionally powerful or mighty. to wit: they are strong. and it’s this meaning on which i would like to focus today.
we’ve all known people who despite considerable trials and challenges continue. several soulcasters have written about their difficulties, often movingly, and they certainly draw my admiration—i won’t presume to speak for anybody else.
we speak of iron as a very strong metal, so much so that it’s proverbial: an “iron man” is tough; an “iron will” is an indomitable force of will. metallurgically, iron is converted into steel by the addition of carbon, which increases the resulting alloy’s strength as well as its flexibility.
iron has some limitations as a metal, though: it’s brittle, compared to other metals. this is why we build things out of steel rather than iron: it’s stronger.
if you take a sheet of iron, it will break if you put it under enough stress: it’s brittle so when its ability to withstand that stress is surpassed, it completely gives way. by comparison, a sheet of steel will retain its shape much better but add enough stress and it will change: it will not break, but it will distort. steel however can be restored to its original shape, as anybody who’s been in a car accident can probably attest.
so it is with people. to me, true inner strength is the capacity to return to our original condition when the stress is removed.
this isn’t to say that we should pass through our experiences unchanged by them—indeed, i think that going through experiences and remaining completely unaltered by them is the mark of a fool. after all, we learn from our mistakes—or at least, we should. but we’ve all known people whose bad experiences have broken them, don’t we? they have emerged from their trials and become less than they were.
what i have noticed is that the people who are best capable of weathering life’s storms are not the people who seem tough on the outside. IMX, being tough is in fact a liability, b/c it contains the intrinsic limitation of being like iron: brittle.
so i say to you this: inner strength isn’t about being tough. true inner strength is about anything other than toughness. in this way, this kind of strength is what we most admire in others, isn’t it? we admire people who when knocked down by life’s vicissitudes, get back up. no matter how many times they’re knocked down, they keep getting up again.
to me, that’s true strength.
so are you more iron or steel? when you use the word strength, do you mean it more in one of the other senses i have not addressed? am i making a modicum of sense? comment and let me know.
ed



