I used to think resilience was about springing back. Now I know it's about growing in a new direction, like a tree that's been bent by the wind. The scar tissue is stronger than the original. It holds a different kind of story, a map of where the break was. It doesn't disappear, but it does become part of the whole, interwoven. The river cuts new channels when the old ones are blocked. It doesn't fight the mountain, it finds the way around, deeper perhaps, but still flowing toward the sea. And sometimes, the new path is more beautiful than the first.