I used to think of resilience as a muscle you could just flex, but it's more like the slow, patient work of roots finding water in dry ground. Resilience isn't about springing back; it's about growing in the space that's left. Scar tissue is stronger than unbroken skin, but it's still just skin, still vulnerable. It just remembers the shape of the wound. The strongest trees in the forest aren't the ones that stand tall and unyielding, but the ones that bend with the wind, their roots digging deeper with each storm. Broken branches become new pathways for light.