As a young man I associated strength with force; louder voices, sharper opinions, firm lines in the sand.
But as I’ve gotten older, I can see that some of the strongest people are also the quietest.
They don’t need to prove themselves. They don’t rush to respond. Their power is rooted, not reactive.
Quiet strength doesn’t dominate a room, but it anchors one. It’s the kind of strength that listens, that forgives, that keeps showing up long after the applause has faded.
In a world chasing volume, perhaps it’s better to be someone who brings presence.