Duck in the Water
Do you know of or have a person in your life that always seems to have a sense of calm? It doesn’t seem to matter much what is happening, they always present a very steady sense of being and purpose. I have learned that, not only is this the Minnesota way, it’s also the way some people were raised or have learned to be in this world. They have had to be the steady one, the one who doesn’t react, or overreact to whatever is going on, the one who keeps all the plates spinning and seems to hold it all together. They’re like a duck, swimming along placidly just cruising through the water. But underneath...they are kicking hard as hell and the water below may be turbulent and they may be struggling just to stay afloat or not get swept away by the current. They are tired, maybe even unaware of how hard they have been working to keep up appearances, or just scared that if they take a moment to acknowledge how they are holding or attempting to hold everything together, they may lose their grip, the seams will burst, and all of the contents of what they’ve been working so hard to hold together will spill out everywhere with little hope of ever being neatly contained again.
Sometimes we look at those people and wonder, “How do they do it?!? How do they keep it all together? How does their instagram look so perfect? How does their home or meals or skin or hair always look like something out of a magazine?”
And then you start to spin. You’re inspired, overwhelmed, even defeated by the images and shoulds and expectations that if this person can live this way, why can’t you? *Repeat cycle in random order until you’re just done with everything and why do you even try?
I know this feeling well. I get this way when I try to decorate my walls or organize my closet or wade into waters outside my comfort zone. This year especially.
I have a deep well of talented friends. Friends who are great at things that I do not excel at. I’ve leaned into those friends in years past and have come out feeling less defeated than I have this last year. To say this year has been isolating and lonely is an understatement and it’s been said a million times in a million ways and I know I don’t need to say it again, but 13 months in, I want to take a minute to look back...
I’ll start by saying, I’m grateful for a number of things this year:
The opportunity to slow everything down, my metabolism included, which is something I’ve not been as thankful for. Ha! But I believe even this has taught me a lot about how I see myself and how I love or don’t love myself, what I find to be praiseworthy or valuable, how I speak to and about myself, and how I can care for myself and my body. And, in the midst of it all, how to be grateful that it sustains me and keeps me moving and shoulders a lot more than I ever realized from emotions, to stress, to joy, to weight, to thoughts, to everything it houses here on this earth.
Technology that has allowed me to foster meaningful relationships with family, friends, and clients. Some of whom I didn’t realize would be the ones I would find a deeper connection with during this time.
The opportunity to spend insane amounts of time with just my partner doing something/nothing/everything.
Recognizing how very special it is when you make a real connection with a stranger.
Waking up even more to the reality that my lived story is drastically and fundamentally different from so many others’ stories and that I can listen and expand my compassion and empathy, if I will just take the time and be open to listening and slower to speak.
How “my rights” can be most self-serving and harmful when I try to plant that flag anywhere within community.
To seek the highest good and most loving benefit of ALL when making decisions. That “My way or the highway” is rarely the best solution and that there is usually a third way where we all benefit and can find peace.
My Anchor holds fast. The Divine, the Maker, the Sustainer and Creator of life is loving, good, and true and always on the side of such qualities and if I am a seeker of these things, I will find them. Even in the middle of a troubled sea.
...just to name a few.
I recently had a long-overdue conversation with a friend who lives across the country. As we caught up and got into a very cozy and honest conversation about life and work and how that looks this year, she touched on something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently: I’ve been doing energy work for YEARS (before I ever called it that). She said something along the lines of, ‘When you started this business, I thought, “Well, of course that’s what you’re doing! That’s what you’ve always been doing as long as I’ve known you, so that just makes sense.”’ She also mentioned how my social media presence has been lacking in, or void of, what it had before I decided to share my life with a broader audience of people I don’t personally know. I’ve felt it too. The voice of comparison, trying to tie everything back to my work and how that can be helpful for my audience, the lack of posting because, “What business do I really have even doing this work? Your life is not perfect and sometimes your emotions run right over you...etc, etc.”
And I just want to apologize: to myself, to you, my readers, to the work I am called to, and to Authenticity herself. For the times that I didn’t feel like the hand I had to extend to others was presentable enough, for the way that I held back sharing my heart and what’s been given to me because I saw others doing it in a “prettier” or more appealing way, for living small as if I’m not here to invite hope and vulnerability into this world in whatever way and by whatever means has been entrusted to me. I’m sorry for being silly and self-conscious, for getting caught up in the smothering whirlwind of comparison, for not shining a light when I was moved by creativity and stirred by life. So, here is me being accountable, hitting the reset button and showing up in all the mess and madness and movement and moments. Because what else are we here for?
Love and Peace,
Bethany