Here in Wyoming, the wind is a constant teacher. It carves the rock and shapes the trees, which don’t bounce back after a storm; they grow stronger, adapting to the forces that challenge them. They integrate the struggle into their very form. This landscape is a daily reminder of a deep truth I’ve witnessed in my work across the globe: the most profound strength isn’t about returning to a previous state, but about evolving through adversity.
For years, I held onto the popular definition of resilience—the idea of a rubber ball hitting a wall and returning, perfectly unharmed. It’s a comforting thought because it promises a return to normalcy, an escape from pain. But in all my work, from facilitating dialogues in communities scarred by conflict to sitting with individuals navigating profound personal trauma, I have never once seen a clean “bounce.” What I have seen, time and again, is a far more powerful and sacred process: the journey of moving through.
This journey honors the fact that our significant experiences are meant to change us. The expectation to simply bounce back denies us the grace to feel, to grief, and most importantly, to grow. It asks us to hide the very scars that tell the story of our survival.
The Illusion of the Perfect Bounce
The pressure to bounce back is a heavy burden. It suggests that if the cracks from a setback are still visible, if we haven’t seamlessly returned to our old selves, we are failing. This can foster a deep sense of shame, forcing us to perform a version of wellness that feels hollow and inauthentic. We see it in the workplace after a difficult project fails, where the team is urged to “shake it off and move on,” bypassing the crucial lessons of the failure. We see it in personal loss, where friends, with the best intentions, say, “You’ll be back to your old self soon,” invalidating the reality that a part of us is, and should be, forever changed.
This mindset turns healing into a race against an invisible clock. It prioritizes the appearance of strength over the cultivation of it. But when we deny the break, we deny ourselves the opportunity to mend with intention. We skip the chapter of the story where the hero, after the battle, sits down to tend to their wounds and, in doing so, discovers a new source of power.
The Art of Mending with Gold
There is a Japanese art form that has become the central metaphor for my work: Kintsugi. When a ceramic bowl breaks, the pieces are not discarded. They are painstakingly reassembled by a craftsman who uses a lacquer mixed with powdered gold to seal the cracks. The result is a piece of pottery where the lines of breakage are not disguised, but beautifully illuminated. The bowl is not just repaired; it is reborn, more valuable and more beautiful for having been broken.
“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen
This is the essence of moving through. It is the Kintsugi of the human spirit. It’s the radical act of accepting that the breaks are real. It is the patient work of picking up the pieces, not to hide the damage, but to honor the journey. The “gold” we use to mend is the self-compassion, the wisdom, the empathy, and the new perspectives we gain directly from the hardship. Our scars cease to be marks of damage and become golden seams of our post-traumatic growth.
This philosophy applies to every level of human experience. A family that moves through a crisis doesn’t pretend it didn’t happen; they develop a new language of support and a deeper understanding of each other’s needs. An organization that moves through a period of intense conflict doesn’t just revise a policy; it builds a fundamentally stronger culture of communication and trust. The goal is not restoration; it is integration.
The Pathway in Practice
So, what does it actually look like to move through? It is not a passive waiting game, but an active, creative, and supported process. It is the Harmony Pathway we walk at the Center, a journey with distinct, vital stages.
First, there must be an Acknowledgement of the Break. This is the moment of truth, the courageous admission that something has been shattered and we are not okay. It requires a profound level of safety—a space free from judgment where we can lay down the heavy burden of pretending. Whether it’s a CEO admitting to their team that they don’t have all the answers, or an individual whispering in a counseling session, “This has broken me,” this step is the essential entry point. It’s where deep, compassionate listening begins. We cannot heal what we do not first acknowledge.
Second, we begin the process of Gathering the Gold. This is where we sift through the rubble of the experience to find the fragments of wisdom and strength. Often, our most potent insights are not accessible through logic alone. This is why the expressive arts are so vital to this work. Through narrative writing, we can begin to shape a new story for ourselves. Through painting or photography, we can give color and form to feelings that have no words. I have seen community groups, stuck in the mire of blame and misunderstanding, create a shared mural that allowed them to express their collective pain and, in the same moment, paint the first vision of a shared future. This is how we find the precious materials for our repair.
Finally, there is the Integration. This is the art of consciously weaving the mended pieces back into the fabric of our lives. It is not about dwelling on the past, but about carrying its lessons forward.
“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” — Viktor Frankl
This is the challenge of integration. We take the gold of what we have learned—the deepened empathy, the clarified values, the newfound strength—and let it change us. We make new choices. We set new boundaries. We lead with more compassion. We love with more depth. We become a living testament to the fact that our cracks have let the light in.
This journey is rarely linear. It is a spiral, and we may revisit these stages as we grow. But embracing this path is the true meaning of resilience. It is the choice to not be diminished by our hardships, but to be transformed by them. So I invite you to let go of the impossible demand to bounce back. Instead, offer yourself the grace to move through, to mend with gold, and to discover the profound beauty and strength that emerges from your beautifully mended spirit.