Meditation is Work: Strength

Contemplating the Origins of Power

Earlier we looked at weakness and how coming to grips with your bad habits and past failures can pave the way for an honest assessment of what we’re capable of. This is especially helpful in identifying when and where we might break down in pursuing growth. But what about our counterbalance to weakness? Shouldn’t meditating on strength be a pillar of The Suffer Lab?

You bet your Aurelius it should!

Let’s straighten out what “strength” is, because different images pop into our heads when we refer to someone as being strong. The weightlifter? The dissident in a fascist country? The religiously devout who still believe in their benevolent god in spite of a series of tragedies? The concept of strength has a broad wingspan and covers the physical, moral, and spiritual areas of our lives.

In the vein of “words mean stuff”, I think we unintentionally use strength and resilience interchangeably. Type “strength and resilience” into your Google search bar and the previews of the results pair the terms in a redundant way — the Gemini Twins of power. I think each term describes fortitude in different ways, but they’re both of great value to the Student of Growth.

Strength is a measure of power and control at a point in time, sometimes describing a temporary state. It’s is a way of describing someone’s present ability to do physical, moral, or spiritual “work”. If someone says, “She’s got strong forearms” or “it took great strength to resist his bribe” they are describing a snapshot of the person.

Resilience refers to applied strength over a period of time. I’m able to ride my bike 100 miles in a day because my human motor is not only strong enough to get me going, but resilient enough to withstand the physical demands of doing so. Survivors of the Luftwaffe’s nighttime bombing campaign over London were strong enough to pick up the pieces the morning after a bombing raid. That they carried on this way for the duration of the campaign meant that they were resilient.

Different situations require their own look at fortitude, whether it’s the episodic strength to move something or the adjusting of our character to focus on resilience over the long haul. You know which angle is right for you to pursue. As always, though, the tougher questions quickly follow and they use words like “why”, “what”, and “how”.

What is it that gives a mother the strength to hold the family together after Dad dies of a heart attack? What are you going to do when you’re injured and the wreck is miles away from anyone? What are you going to do when the one-liners from all the motivational posters you have in the office are slapped out of your working memory by the cold imminence of failure? How will you press on when that quote you saw on Facebook no longer urges you along? What is the true source of your strength?

The Will to Act

Physical, moral, and spiritual strength originate with an end in mind. To peel the wreckage off of the copilot, to stand alongside an unpopular friend, or to provide honest feedback to tyrannical superiors all involve distinct outcomes, but require backbone and power to willfully bring purpose to life.

Strength is what bridges our ideas and intentions with our actions in defiance of some form of resistance. We cannot dissect strength and resilience without taking a close look at motivation.

Consider the anonymous man from the 1989 uprising in Tienanmen Square. There’s no telling where he wound up after making his stand; some have speculated that his life ended shortly after the display. I bet he knew what he was getting into, though. Anyone in the periphery could’ve looked at Tank Man and thought about what a cool idea he had and how bad-ass he looked. So why was he standing alone? What separated the onlookers from the human tank obstacle (to be fair, he was later pulled aside by fellow protesters)?

Even if you can’t bench 300 lbs you can still stop a tank.

We summon strength to counter failure, humiliation, disappointment, guilt, and to prevent injury (to ourselves and others). We also summon strength because we crave the sensation of accomplishment or the desire to please or to help others. This applies to activities of opposition (standing up to bullies) and activities of aspiration (running your first marathon). We win if we finish the marathon we set out to do 6 months ago. We fail morally if we do not stand up to bullies and assholes.

We don’t want to fail. Fear of failure in many instances is a-okay. We rely on fear for survival sometimes. Of course we’re going to screw things up now and then, but we normally don’t roll up to the starting line intending to quit.

I read a brilliant book by Amanda Ripley called Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes — and Why. One of her discussions in the book covers fear and how the mind and body respond to this sensation. This handful of words illuminates the relationship between failure, guilt, and humiliation and the will to press on:

“People in life-or-death situations often think of their children or how others will perceive them after the crisis is over. Gasping for air in turbulent seas or groping their way out of a burning plane, they hear the voices of their family members in their heads. Sometimes the voices are even mocking.”

If we’re really looking deep within ourselves, can we not apply this to the less dire situations in our lives? Usually before the start of a race I’m filled with anxiety and internal tension. Though my goals are modest (ride smart, ride hard, have fun, don’t wreck) I dread the idea of what I’ll judge to be a poor performance. It sounds ridiculous when I’m in front of my keyboard, but during those times I toy with the idea of backing out, loading up the bike, and driving home to drink beer and eat pizza for the rest of the day.

But then I think about the example that would set for my kids. I think about how I’d explain my lack of sweaty clothes and fatigue to my wife after a long, quiet drive home. Chances are I don’t personally know any of my competitors, but if I did, I know they’d be disappointed in me. I also think about the joy I receive in riding with other athletes and the euphoria of finishing, even though I probably won’t come anywhere near the podium. 100% of the time I clip in and I race.

The Reservoir

The average American body has enough stored body fat to power its owner through several marathons. There are cases of people in crisis who are able to lift cars off of other people. Physically, we are capable of amazing feats of strength. With adequate training and nutrition, we can make the most of our physical selves. Same idea applies to moral strength — it’s in all of us. It’s tough to access sometimes, but it’s there.

We aim to become stronger and more resilient but like anything else that’s good, the results won’t immediately manifest themselves. Additionally, once we reach a certain level of strength, we plateau unless we jostle and challenge ourselves. Every now and then we need to stand in front of a tank.

In meditation, spend some time looking at what motivates you to carry on. Pick a situation where you wanted to quit but wouldn’t, couldn’t give up. There’s probably a situation or two where you’ve shown incredible restraint that you can dwell on. Do this a few times — relive each situation to its fullest, most minute detail. My suspicion is that you’ll be able to neck down why you pressed on and in doing so find that your internal reservoir of strength becomes easier to return to and deeper than you previously believed.