Dr. Robin Jones
In my professional life, I am accustomed to structure. I prepare, I plan, and I aim for specific therapeutic outcomes. But as any seasoned provider knows, the “room” often has its own agenda. During my recent wellness workshop at Mental Health America in West Palm Beach, I received a beautiful lesson in meeting people exactly where they are, a lesson amplified by the presence of my co-facilitator, Justice.
Justice and I arrived ready to lead a session on “Wellness Movement” using resistance stretch bands. We were prepared to discuss the mind-body connection and the release of physical tension. However, the turnout was intimate, just four participants, and it quickly became clear that their focus was held by something much more tactile and communal: painting rocks.
These weren’t just ordinary stones; they were being decorated for the upcoming MHA 5K. Each stone was a small beacon of hope, destined to be placed along the race trail to encourage the runners. In that moment, the “professional” in me had a choice: stick to the syllabus or join the circle.
We chose the circle.
While we didn’t get through the resistance band routine, we found something far more restorative. There is a profound mindfulness in artistic expression. As Justice and I sat with the participants, the conversation shifted from “exercise” to “connection.” We talked as we painted, witnessing the quiet pride the participants felt in contributing to something larger than themselves.
We also had the opportunity to distribute donated items to the Clubhouse participants. Seeing the genuine appreciation and the smiles that followed those small self-care items was a powerful reminder: the gratitude for the little things keeps us humble. It wasn’t about the monetary value of the items; it was about the message that they are seen, remembered, and valued by their community.
I was grateful for the reminder that mental health care isn’t always about a structured “intervention.” Sometimes, it’s about the simple, human act of creating alongside one another and sharing what we have.
As the workshop unfolded, I experienced a coincidental moment that I never could have predicted. While discussing the 5K, I discovered that my own sorority is not only supporting the race but has a sponsored team participating.
The coincidence hit me with an overwhelming sense of alignment. I sat there and painted stones in pink and green, my sorority colors, to commemorate the experience. In those stones, my professional world, my personal sisterhood, and my journey as a mentor all merged into one.
This experience at MHA West Palm Beach taught me (and Justice) a few vital things:
- The “Room” Knows What it Needs: Sometimes a resistance band is too much, but a paintbrush is just right.
- Impact isn’t Numerical: We only had four participants, but the depth of the connection and the purpose behind those painted stones felt as significant as a room of forty.
- Everything is Connected: Seeing my sorority’s involvement reminded me that I am part of a vast ecosystem of support. We are never doing this work alone.
I left Fern Street not with the satisfaction of a “completed lesson plan,” but with the peace of a “full-circle moment.” I watched Justice adapt to the change in plans with his signature grace. I left two pink and green stones to brighten the race trail and kept one to take home as a permanent reminder: the most flawless moments are the ones we didn’t see coming.
