Choosing To Be Soft: Strong In May 2025

In the past few years, I’ve felt my heart harden in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve been let down by broken promises and hurt by people I trusted. I’ve been misunderstood for simply speaking up for myself. When we’ve done what was right—both morally and legally—and still found ourselves on the receiving end of judgment, shame, and insidious attempts to tear us down. Those moments built walls. Not all at once, but slowly, almost without me noticing. In April, through reflection, I saw just how much of that hardness I’d been holding onto. And lately, I’ve been thinking about softness—how rare it is, how difficult it is to protect, and how much I still want to choose it. That’s why I’m choosing to be soft in May.

Choosing To Be Soft

A line that struck me recently was from G. K. Chesterton, “The person who will not have a softening of the heart will eventually have a softening of the brain.”

The world often tells us to be tough. To be strong, efficient, in control. To get things done and not let feelings get in the way. And honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to be that person. I’ve learned how to keep things together, to show up prepared, to be dependable. But in all that holding it together, I’ve sometimes lost touch with the softer parts of myself.

At first, choosing to be soft might seem like it goes against Strong, my word for 2025. But I’m learning that the two are not opposites—they’re deeply connected. It’s easy to feel like softness is a weakness. That if we show too much heart, people will think we’re not strong enough. But I’m seeing it differently. I think softness takes courage. It takes strength to stay open when life feels hard or when the world feels cold.

Lately, I’ve been struggling. I feel like I’ve lost my sense of wonder. Forgotten to be gentle. Not letting myself be moved by something beautiful or broken. Finding it hard to be sitting with someone’s pain—or my own—and not trying to fix it right away. Losing my temper. Being impatient.

When I look back at earlier versions of myself, I remember how easily I used to laugh, how quickly I’d say yes to joy, how freely I’d cry when something moved me. I still have those parts in me—they’re just quieter now. But I miss them. And I want them back.

So I’m making a choice: to work toward being soft. That means letting myself feel things deeply. Being honest, even when it’s awkward. Letting people in. Slowing down enough to notice beauty. Holding space for joy and sorrow, sometimes at the same time.

Three Moments of Softness Today

• The unexpected sight of a Tickell’s blue flycatcher. The beauty of the colours in such a small bird! filled me with awe. I was surprised by joy!
• Watching from across a road, as passersby who seemed like they could ill afford it, generously giving alms to a disabled man. I was moved by the kindness of people.
• Looking at pictures of us feeding the community dogs in our colony. Although the dogs are well, we are no longer directly involved in feeding them. I was sad recalling all the unnecessary pain that they and we went through.

These moments of softness feel like prayer to me. They remind me who I really am. Not someone who has to be strong all the time, but someone who wants to live with a whole heart.

So here I am—choosing softness. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary.

Other news in May

I’m so drawn to the colour yellow this month. The stickers in my journal. These photographs. To me, soft yellow is like a warm hug—gentle and reliable. It makes me think of lazy mornings, feeling understood without saying a word, and little things like flowers blooming or beautiful little birds popping up unexpectedly. That’s how I want to show up in the world me: open, gentle, and real. Not flashy or loud. Simply be there. Mellow yellow – softly making space for me and others.

I also reset my 100 Days of Mindful Writing project and started fresh from 1 May. This time around, I want it to feel more grounded, more intuitive. I’m letting go of the pressure to make it perfect. My intention is to show up to the page each day, notice what’s present, and let the words find me. I hope it becomes a gentle companion in the days ahead—something steady and reflective to walk with through this season of change.

This post has been delayed. But it’s not too late to wish you well in May!

♥

Corinne