Jerry's Marginalia — If the Root Is Deep Enough, You Don't Have to Fear the Wind
Somebody said something to me today.
Nothing dramatic.
No grand speech.
No inspirational music.
No wise old man appearing from the fog carrying a wooden staff and twelve centuries of accumulated wisdom.
Just somebody saying:
“If a root is deep enough, you no longer have to be afraid of the wind.”
And initially my reaction was basically:
Huh.
That's pretty good.
Then I went about my day.
But the motherfucker followed me home.
The interesting thing about that sentence isn't the root.
It's the wind.
Because notice what the saying does not promise.
It doesn't say:
If your root is deep enough, the wind will stop.
It doesn't say:
If you're a good person, eventually nothing bad will happen to you.
It doesn't say:
If you work hard enough, nobody will ever fuck with you again.
It doesn't say:
If you become wise enough, you'll never be scared, angry, uncertain, disappointed, broke, betrayed, exhausted, or completely fucking confused again.
No.
The wind keeps blowing.
That's the deal.
You don't get to negotiate that part.
I think I've spent a lot of my life wanting to control the wind.
Something goes wrong?
Fix it.
Somebody does something stupid?
Respond to it.
Somebody violates a rule?
Correct it.
Somebody misunderstands me?
Explain myself.
Somebody thinks badly of me?
Make them understand.
Something uncertain happens?
Figure out the ending right fucking now.
Because uncertainty is uncomfortable.
And when you're uncomfortable, there's this temptation to do something.
Anything.
Push.
Fight.
Explain.
Defend.
Predict.
Prepare.
Write the motherfucker up.
Whatever makes you feel like you're controlling the situation.
Except sometimes you aren't controlling anything.
You're standing in a hurricane yelling:
“STOP BEING WINDY.”
And strangely enough, the hurricane does not comply.
That's where the root comes in.
A tree doesn't defeat the wind.
Think about that.
The tree doesn't chase the storm down the street.
The tree doesn't argue with it.
The tree doesn't demand an explanation.
The tree doesn't file a grievance against the fucking atmosphere.
The tree doesn't spend three hours wondering:
“Why would the wind do this to me?”
The tree has one job.
Stay rooted.
That's it.
The wind handles the wind.
The tree handles the tree.
And maybe that's what resilience actually looks like.
Not becoming invincible.
Not becoming cold.
Not reaching some enlightened state where nothing bothers you anymore.
Just having enough underneath you that whatever happens above you doesn't immediately determine who you become.
Your principles.
Your experience.
Your boundaries.
Your faith.
Your judgment.
Your ability to say:
“I don't know yet.”
Your ability to say:
“That's not my problem.”
Your ability to say:
“I made a mistake.”
Your ability to say:
“I need to handle this.”
And, just as importantly:
“I don't need to handle that.”
Those are roots.
One lesson I've learned recently is:
Uncertainty isn't the same thing as catastrophe.
That's another root.
Because when you don't know what's going to happen, your brain loves writing unauthorized sequels.
Something happens at work.
I'm getting fired.
Money gets tight.
I'm fucked.
Somebody doesn't answer.
Something's wrong.
Plans change.
Everything is collapsing.
Except sometimes:
You just don't know yet.
That's it.
The next page hasn't been printed.
And if you've lived long enough, you've probably already survived plenty of moments where you were absolutely convinced the next page contained a fucking dragon.
Then you turned it.
No dragon.
Maybe a goblin.
Maybe an unexpected bill.
Maybe some dumb bullshit.
But not the apocalypse your brain had already commissioned concept art for.
That's a root too.
Experience teaches you:
Wait for the page.
Another root is learning that not everything deserves a response.
That one has taken me a while.
There are things you absolutely should respond to.
There are boundaries worth defending.
There are rules worth enforcing.
There are people you need to tell:
No.
There are situations where being passive will cost you.
But there's also an enormous amount of shit in life that presents itself like an urgent summons when it's actually an optional side quest.
Somebody's being stupid.
Okay.
Somebody doesn't like you.
Okay.
Somebody wants to argue.
Okay.
Somebody misunderstood something that doesn't materially affect your life.
Okay.
You don't have to attend every argument you're invited to.
You don't have to personally prosecute every misdemeanor against your peace.
Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is:
Keep fucking walking.
The wind blew.
The tree remained.
Next.
And maybe humility is part of the root system too.
I used to think humility meant making yourself smaller.
I don't think that's quite right anymore.
Humility might simply mean understanding that you aren't required to control everything.
You can be wrong.
You can learn.
You can change your mind.
You can admit you handled something badly.
You can realize that technically being able to do something doesn't necessarily mean you should.
You can enforce a boundary without turning it into a crusade.
You can have authority without needing everybody around you to constantly feel that authority.
You can be strong without performing strength every five fucking minutes.
That's not weakness.
That's knowing where your strength actually needs to go.
Faith belongs down there too.
Because eventually you encounter things that you cannot solve with preparation.
You can make plans.
You can save money.
You can work.
You can document things.
You can protect yourself.
You can make better decisions.
You should do those things.
But eventually life presents you with something where the answer is:
Wait.
And God, I fucking hate that answer sometimes.
Wait.
You don't know yet.
Wait.
You can't fix this tonight.
Wait.
The answer isn't here.
Wait.
And maybe faith isn't believing that the wind won't come.
Maybe faith is believing you don't have to uproot yourself every time you hear it approaching.
There's another thing about roots.
You don't usually see them.
Nobody walks past a tree and says:
“Holy shit, look at those magnificent underground structural systems.”
You see the trunk.
The branches.
The leaves.
Maybe some asshole carved his initials into it.
But most of what keeps that tree standing is hidden.
That's probably true of people too.
Nobody sees every night you decided not to make the stupid decision.
Nobody sees every time you swallowed the unnecessary comeback.
Nobody sees every time you were scared and went to work anyway.
Nobody sees every dollar you didn't spend.
Nobody sees every boundary you maintained.
Nobody sees every prayer.
Nobody sees every moment you wanted to become your worst impulse and instead thought:
No.
Those things aren't particularly cinematic.
But they're roots.
And roots accumulate.
That's the part I like most.
A root doesn't become deep because the tree had one really inspirational Tuesday.
It grows.
Slowly.
Quietly.
One experience at a time.
One mistake.
One correction.
One boundary.
One hard conversation.
One moment of restraint.
One:
“I don't know yet.”
One:
“That's somebody else's problem.”
One:
“I was wrong.”
One:
“I'll do better tomorrow.”
One:
“No.”
One:
“Let it go.”
And eventually another storm comes.
Because another storm always comes.
But something is different.
The wind feels familiar.
You've heard this sound before.
You've bent before.
You've lost branches before.
You've thought:
“This is it.”
And discovered that it wasn't.
So maybe this time you don't panic quite as quickly.
Maybe this time you don't immediately assume the worst.
Maybe this time you don't chase the wind.
Maybe you simply plant your feet—
—or roots—
a little deeper.
That's what I want to remember about that sentence.
Not:
Nothing bad will happen.
That's bullshit.
Not:
Nobody can hurt me.
Also bullshit.
Not:
I've finally figured life out.
Absolutely fucking not.
Jerry's Marginalia does not possess that kind of budget.
Just:
If a root is deep enough, you no longer have to be afraid of the wind.
Let the wind blow.
Handle what actually needs handling.
Protect what actually needs protecting.
Learn from what actually needs teaching.
Apologize when you're wrong.
Stand firm when you're right.
Pray when you need strength.
Ask for help when you need help.
And don't spend your entire life running around trying to arrest the fucking weather.
You don't defeat the wind.
You don't negotiate with the wind.
You don't write the wind up for violating policy.
You grow roots deep enough that the motherfucker can blow.
And then?
You remain.
🦝🌳
— Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand