Men and women are different.
This is such a simple fact of life and yet it’s amazing how much misery it can cause when it’s misunderstood or overlooked.
Whenever I interact with men, I always marvel at how differently they think and react to things and situations. What may move me as a woman and bring tears to my eyes, to them might be a mere irritation. Sometimes they talk when I feel they really should be listening. And sometimes they run and hide when I want them to charge and pursue.
Yep, men are truly from another planet.
However, even with that said, I still find the difference between men and women fascinating.
Like most women, I am mesmerised by a man’s strength. His ability to hold, contain and protect; to enfold and enclose what he loves in a powerful embrace that shields off every hurtful thing; the ability to stand tall and have a presence that reeks masculine pride and confidence.
But even with all that strength, I love how a man can be reduced to mush and awkwardness in the presence of a woman he likes.
I love a man’s vulnerability.
It is indeed a rare and special thing and whenever it’s given to me, I treasure it.
I love the scent of a man who knows exactly what he’s about.
There’s just something different about men; a constant movement and churning; a restlessness; an untamed-ness that I find oh so absolutely alluring.
Maybe that is why I’m a woman. Because I am not a man.
Unlike men, women are softer.
The strength we have is a different kind of strength. It is not brutal but more sophisticated. It is the gentle endurance we exhibit on a daily basis. The capacity to take what life throws at us at every turn without completely falling apart.
There is a certain magic in being in the presence of a woman, especially one who is in tune with herself and her unique feminine beauty.
A woman comfortable in her own skin.
A woman who knows what she’s all about.
Whenever I find myself in the presence of such a woman, I instinctively take a breath and relax. It is as though her presence speaks to me and lets me know that all will be well. This is a woman who is at rest with herself and her journey.
Surprisingly, thinking about these differences between men and women helped me isolate the source of my unrest these last few weeks.
I had been striving within myself. Fighting. Surviving instead of living.
I had let old wounds fester. I had let the past become a burden. And so my heart and soul have been robbed of that special rest.
I had become what Shakespeare would call a ‘troubled fountain’.
But I am coming into rest now.
If like me, you’ve had to fight for most opportunities and the good things in your life, you’ll know that that mentality has a way of sticking and it’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that we have to fight for everything in life.
This is not so. Nor is it healthy.
Yes, a life well lived requires a fiery passion, hard work and commitment but it also requires a faithful surrender – a belief that beautiful things will come our way and we won’t always have to or need to fight for them.
So, if your soul has become a pool of troubled waters and you find yourself striving, the first thing you need to do is to stop.
Stop fighting. Stop striving. Just stop.
Listen to what the troubled waters of your soul are saying to you. Often the answer to our rest is found in the voices and whispers of our strife.
When you listen, you will know what needs to be done. And I wish you all the strength and zeal to do it.
As I come into my own rest, I can’t help but be excited.
I’m excited about the tranquillity that comes with rest and how my presence will learn to speak and say “all is well and all will be well”.
I’m excited about that strong man I envision will soon walk into my life and I will be a type of rest to him and he, my constant churning and adrenalin.
I’m excited about growing the garden of my soul with beauty – a beauty that speaks, invites, nourishes, comforts, and inspires; a beauty that is lush, luxurious and luscious; a beauty that only I can give.
Watch me bloom…as I watch you.