This summer New Jersey experienced an ongoing thread of short summer storms,some generating multiple violent and destructive wind gusts traveling at intense speeds ranging from 60- 80 mph. Countless trees were uprooted, toppling over to cause damage wherever they fell.  Powerlines were knocked out as the brutal  force of the storm left thousands of households with no power for days,while scattered debris littered residential and commercial landscapes, roads and parking lots throughout the state.Although it took time to clean up, once cleared the sky shone brightly again,the  birds continued to sing their songs and the grass was swept of its clutter, looking spotless and tidy,reminding us that although the storm’s sudden arrival can be severe and disruptive, it will eventually clear.

There is an old Aesop’s fable that reads; A reed before the wind lives on, but mighty oaks do fall.  In other words, there are strategies we can employ to weaken the effects of the storm, as true in life as in writing.  Although it is possible to mistake rigidity for determination and perseverance (important in themselves), true success will belong to the writer, or individual, who stands unbending against the blank page.  The white space we face can be a tumultuous storm; and stubbornness or an inflexible attitude will break the pen.  True mastery does not belong to the mighty and proud oak; it belongs to the yielding reed.

The reed does more than simply brace for impact, or fight the wind; it listens to it, bowing to the mud beneath while the savage gusts of doubt and fear pass harmlessly over its back. To live and to write, is to obligingly surrender to the everchanging, unpredictable flow of ideas, words and events, the humility to let the story change its shape, and the trust that when the wind finally ceases and the storm passes, we too- whether as writer or everyday individual writing our story, will rise up whole and unbroken, firmly rooted to the ground beneath us, yet transformed with a new courage to face another day- or another storm.  To yield is not to give up; it is to learn, survive and flourish.

In the Writer’s Digest “Writing the Afterlife of Trauma: Crafting Characters Beyond their Wounds”, contributing author Kalyani Adusumilli says: Trauma isn’t a singular puzzle to be resolved, but a continuing presence that shapes identity. The goal is tracing how characters move forward despite the damage. We will never be able to regulate the external forces out of our control but we can manage our reaction to them.

Trauma is the storm we did not see coming, that impacts us in one defining moment and it can be the quiet aftermath that silently gains strength inside us over time. It can last only a short time before everything returns to normal, or it can fester in a place we can not see, potentially changing the landscape of our life or our story forever.

According to Adusumille; Trauma is often described as a singular, defining moment.  In fiction, it typically centers on a moment of rupture that shapes everything after. But in lived experiences, trauma’s resonance lies less in the event itself and more in how it extends forward- subtly and persistently molding identity, memory and relationships in ways that accumulate over time and are often difficult to name. If we mirror the way of the reed in our vulnerability,adaptability, and faithfulness, our strength will outsmart and outlast the way of the formidable Oak.  Although Aesop’s reed was smaller, less robust and less substantial in size than the mighty oak, it is the reed’s willingness to bend to the winds that gives it its true power.

 Like the reed, as a writer or everyday individual creating our own life story, when we adapt to changes and difficulties, with our feet firmly planted, we too can rise back up like a phoenix from the storm’s leftover debris, yet transcended and ready to face a new day.  Afterall, as singer, songwriter Vivian Greene said; Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass;  it’s about learning to dance in the rain.