That Which Cannot Be Destroyed

Pablo Picasso was known for leaving a trail of devastated women behind him. He once told Francois Gilot that there are only two types of women: goddesses or doormats. And somehow, Gilot was able to extricate herself from her dysfunctional relationship with him—she chose goddess over doormat.

Gilot was the only woman to ever leave him. So how and why did she do this? Reportedly, she said, “Because I am of the stuff that cannot be destroyed.”

Ah, yes!

Here we are, so much destruction surrounding us. It’s circling, oppressive, taking all of the air out. A pandemic. Violence. Divisiveness. Unconscious bias. Climate change. Racial inequity.

I am white, female, privileged, healthy, living in America. Do I understand what it means to be of the stuff that cannot be destroyed? Not really.

Destruction has not followed my ancestors for 400 years. Any suffering is not because of the color of my skin. To speak to it even seems inauthentic.

So, I will speak only of what it means to be of the stuff that cannot be destroyed that I do know:

It means in a marriage to an alcoholic to have the courage to go to Al-Anon.

It means watching my mother slowly die of cancer in my thirties and having the foresight to go to therapy.

It means being a single parent and in an unhealthy relationship and yet finding my ground through yoga.

It means being a manager in several non-profit organizations when going through layoffs—making choices that impact others’ livelihoods and then being laid off myself.

It means experiencing a stay-at-home order and seeing a significant loss of income, and yet finding trails in the woods near my home and starting to climb.

To be of the stuff that cannot be destroyed is about resiliency. And oh, how human beingness is about resiliency. And most humans have far more compelling stories than my own.

What does it mean for you to be of the stuff that cannot be destroyed?

In the great words of Zora Neale Hurston, “I have been in Sorrow’s kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and sword in my hands.”

Are you or your organization on a mountain like that today?

And what does it mean to you to pull out your harp and play?