There’s a tree you sometimes see on the coastline after a hurricane. You know the one. Bent practically sideways like it's trying to do yoga it did not sign up for. Leaves plastered backwards. Bark sandblasted down to the grain. You look at it and think, “No shot that thing is still alive,” and yet there it is. Still rooted. Still standing.
Meanwhile, the other trees around it didn’t make it. Some lost branches. Some lost the whole trunk. Some got pulled out by the roots and were last seen floating somewhere off Cape Cod. But a few remain. And the ones that survive don’t come out looking shiny and new. They look seasoned. Tough. Scarred in a way that tells you they’ve been through something.
And here’s the paradox: those scars are part of what helps them stand taller next time. Roots deepen in storms. Strength builds under stress. The wind doesn’t just test what’s there. It creates what is needed for the future.
I’ve had a few hurricanes in my life. Some personal, some professional, and some that were just internal hurricanes of my own making. And like that tree, I’ve bent. Hard. I’ve lost a few branches. I’ve had days where I genuinely wondered whether the roots were going to hold.
One of the first storms I remember hit me in college. I was playing probably the best soccer of my life. Everything clicked. Confidence was high. Fitness was strong. Identity was pretty tightly wrapped around how I was performing. Then one wrong plant and twist of the knee and pop—season over. ACL torn. Plans rearranged. Identity… well… let's just say the ego had to go sit in the corner and think about some things.
The rehab? Fine. Manageable. Controlled. The mental part? Significantly less glamorous. Try going from being “that guy” to sitting on a couch with a giant brace, watching teammates do what you used to do, and not spiraling. Storms have a way of revealing what was sandcastle and what was bedrock.
That’s when the roots matter. Faith. Family. Character. Calling. The parts of life that don’t rely on applause, outcomes, or titles.
And I’ve been through more storms since. So have you. No one gets a quiet coast forever. There have been seasons in my career where I was hired to do work I knew I wasn’t fully ready for, and seasons where I was turned away from things I was absolutely prepared to handle. There have been moments where I’ve stepped in to help someone and discovered they weren’t ready to hear it or didn’t want it delivered the way I could give it.
But the calling stays the same: Show up. Root deeper. Stand firm.Grow anyway.
Because the wind doesn’t get to decide your foundation. You do.
And the most important reminder I have to keep coming back to again and again: Storms always end.
They always have. They always will.
When the skies clear, you’re still there. Maybe a little dinged up. Maybe a slightly different shape than before. Maybe with a scar or two. But deeper. Wiser. More grounded. Better prepared for the next gust.
And when that wind picks up again — because it always does — maybe you don’t panic this time. Maybe you just look out at the horizon, take a breath, settle your weight into your heels, and say: “I’ve been here before. My roots are stronger now. I can do this.”
Mark J Modzeleski, CFS, CLTC, AIF
President, Legacy Wealth Advisors of NY