What Are You Protecting?

What Are You Protecting?

I've been thinking about Durgā a little differently this week.

We've talked about Durgā in our meditation practice as the fierce, protective aspect of the Divine Mother. She's often depicted with weapons, riding a lion or tiger, surrounded by an almost overwhelming amount of power.

But Durgā isn't fierce because she's angry or looking for something to fight.

She's fierce because she protects what is sacred.

And this morning, I found myself wondering:

What does it actually mean for protection to be an expression of love?

I've spent a lot of my life confusing love with availability.

If someone I loved was hurting, I moved toward them. I helped. I understood. I made room. I tried to make things better.

And for a long time, I thought that's what compassion looked like.

But this week I've noticed something different.

I've been very protective of my peace.

I've been saying no when I don't have the capacity to say yes.

I've been letting myself rest.

I've been paying attention when my body says, enough.

I've been noticing the impulse to take responsibility for someone else's emotions- and sometimes choosing not to.

I've been trying not to abandon my own needs simply because someone I love has needs of their own.

And I found myself wondering:

Could this be Durgā, too?

Not in some dramatic or mystical sense.

But in the very ordinary act of recognizing:

This is precious to me.

This needs tending.

This is where I stop.

And I've been thinking a lot about the word protection.

Sometimes protection is associated with fear. We protect ourselves because we're afraid of being hurt again. We build walls. We withdraw. We harden.

But is all protection defensive?

Can protection also be an expression of love?

Can I protect my peace without closing my heart?

Can I have a boundary without making someone else wrong?

Can I deeply understand another person's suffering without taking responsibility for relieving it?

Can I care for someone without abandoning myself?

And honestly, this is something I'm still learning.

I can understand someone else's pain and still need a boundary.

I can love someone and still recognize that being endlessly available to them isn't actually loving to myself.

I can have compassion for what someone has been through without allowing their pain to become something I have to carry.

I don't really have neat answers to any of this. I'm still figuring it out myself.

And maybe that's part of why this particular image of Durgā has been speaking to me lately.

Because spiritual practice can sound so lofty sometimes. We meditate. We chant mantra. We study philosophy. We contemplate the nature of consciousness.

And then life gives us a very ordinary moment in which we have to decide whether we're going to say yes or no.

Whether we're going to rest or push through.

Whether we're going to rescue or allow.

Whether we're going to override ourselves or listen.

Maybe this is where the teachings become embodied.

Not in becoming some perfected version of ourselves, but in the small moments when we remember what we value and act from there.

Perhaps this is part of what Durgā's fierce compassion has to show us:

Sometimes protecting what is precious is itself an act of love.

So I've been sitting with this question, and I'm curious what you notice in your own life:

What are you protecting right now?

Your peace?

Your energy?

Your time?

Your healing?

Your joy?

A new boundary?

A part of yourself that you're finally learning to value?

And then maybe an even more interesting question:

Can you protect it without hardening?

I don't know.

I'm curious about this.

And I'm curious what you notice.