What if strength isn’t about how much we can carry… but how clearly we can see ourselves?

Today’s notion is personal — born from a single reflection:

“Our strength is recognizing and understanding our weaknesses.”

But that truth didn’t show up as a quote. It came from something deeper — a realization about connection, service, boundaries, and forgiveness.

The Family We’re Born Into

We’re all born into a family. Maybe not the one we would’ve chosen — but one that connects us to the world, to stories, to legacy.

Family doesn’t just mean blood. It means we start life belonging to something. We are already part of — and that means we already affect and are affected by others.

And maybe… the way to live is in the service of that family.

Not as a martyr. Not out of guilt. But because connection is where life breathes meaning.

I say “yes” to almost every request within my reach — because I can. Because I want to be of service. It feels good. It feels right.

The Cost of Constant Yes

But here’s the thing:

When you always say yes… you slowly stop hearing your own “no.”

And sometimes, in the name of love, we allow ourselves to be slowly worn down.

Until someone gives you an act of forgiveness.

And something shifts.

Forgiveness — true forgiveness — is a powerful moment. It’s raw. Vulnerable. It’s not just saying “it’s okay.” It’s saying, I see your pain. I see your flaw. I see the impact — and I choose to stay connected.

And after that?

I found myself needing to say “no.”

Not out of revenge.

But as a kind of healing — for both of us.

Because forgiveness isn’t a reset button. It’s a fire.

And fire changes things.

The Fire of Forgiveness

Forgiveness burns away illusion.

Illusion of perfection. Illusion of power. Illusion of being above mistakes.

When someone asks for forgiveness, they’re not asking to be excused — they’re asking to be seen. And when we forgive, we acknowledge our own weakness too:

That we can be hurt.

That we did expect more.

That our love has limits — and that’s okay.

And in that moment, I realized:

My strength isn’t in my ability to keep giving.

It’s in recognizing what I can’t keep giving.

It’s in understanding my weakness — the parts of me that get tired, or quiet, or overwhelmed… and honoring them.

And that realization — that’s when the quote came to me:

“Our strength is recognizing and understanding our weaknesses.”

But sometimes… forgiveness isn’t asked for.  

Sometimes the other person never says “I’m sorry.”  

They move on.  

Or maybe they didn’t even know they crossed a line.  

But I knew.

And if I’m going to keep saying yes — if I’m going to keep showing up with love, energy, and presence —  

then I have to do something first:  

I have to forgive. 

Not for them — for me.  

Because continuing to give without that forgiveness builds quiet resentment.

And in those moments, even if no one asks for it, I still have to say no.  

Not as punishment…  

But as protection.  

As process.

And I’ll keep saying no — not forever —  

but until I feel that forgiveness has moved through both of us.  

Not just me forcing it down, and not just them brushing it off.  

But real forgiveness — the kind that transforms.

Love is not a class, race, culture, or tradition. At first, true love startles. Fear not. Do not hesitate. Its light is so bright — embrace it. And remember: the one you embrace without a startle, but with excitement of any kind, is false. Embrace the one you know — and in meeting again, for the first time — true love knows love.

Don’t we all forget that sometimes?

It’s why I believe saying “no” is the medicine applied only when a wound appears — and forgiveness, the ointment. That’s a “yes” from me.

Because for me, it’s like reading a book. If you read to judge — comparing what you think you know to what you think you understood — you’ll never truly learn. But if you read to understand, you read with a welcoming spirit — a yes. You accept someone’s story, even if it’s not yours.

A loved one is a book of stories. Judgment does not build relationships. Connections are lost when we separate. The meaning of “no,” when misapplied, is misunderstood — and underestimated.

So say yes. Listen. Enjoy. We’re all born into a family, after all. This life is short. Our footprints are meaningful. Let them be made in love — in emotions and experience.

Ancient Wisdom

In Taoism, there’s a saying:

“Those who know others are wise. Those who know themselves are enlightened.”

The Stoics believed that self-knowledge was the foundation of freedom.

That if we can accept the truth of who we are — including the weak parts — we become unshakable.

Even in the Bible, Paul writes, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Strength born from surrender. From awareness.

And in Japanese culture, kintsugi is the art of repairing broken pottery with gold — not hiding the cracks, but highlighting them.

In all of these, weakness isn’t shameful. It’s sacred.

And knowing our limits — knowing when to say “no” — is not failure. It’s clarity. It’s maturity. It’s strength.

So I’ll say it again:

Our strength is recognizing and understanding our weaknesses.

So that this quote, can make sense to you, through your own vision of the truth.

And maybe that’s the only way forgiveness can truly work — when we both stand in our brokenness, in the fire, and let it remake us.

This week, I invite you to sit with this:

• What do you say “yes” to?
• When do you say “no”?

And when the moment comes — when forgiveness is needed — let it be fire.

Let it burn away the masks.

Let it make space for something deeper than perfection: truth.

Because maybe… just maybe… that’s where healing begins.