It's different now, or I am
Floating down the stream
I used to think that life was like the ocean. Waves crashing, destructive storms uprooting sediment and tossing life around with every season. After a few years of healing, I have realized that life is more like a stream. The flow is constant and easy, it is I who cause the waves.
Let’s say I have this little boat, it fits only me, and I have placed it into this magical stream of physical reality. It’s a beautiful space, full of lush green life and colorful flowers. The sun is high, but there are perfect fluffy clouds taking the heat off of my shoulders. Below me, in the water, are tiny fish and colorful stones reflecting light. And here I am, in my boat just floating along.
Now, let’s say that the clouds turn grey and it starts to rain. It feels nice and refreshing at first, a crisp change to the normal perfect that was. However, soon all I feel is the rain, and it seems like the more I focus on the rain, the heavier the downpour becomes. So, I grab my paddles and try to steer away from it. Rain… I’m trying to control rainfall…
Anyway, I see others doing the same, so I figure it’s the best course of action. We all start talking about how much we hate the rain and try to figure out a way to make it stop. None of it results in any actual relief, but we continue to shout our discomfort. I also see others floating along, passing me, making me ache for the ease I see on their faces. Why do they not feel the rain as I do? Why is the stream flowing so seamlessly for them?
Rain becomes boulders and boulders become brambles that are impossible to break through. Still, the stream flows. After a while, I no longer want to paddle and the desire to jump from my little boat and return to the stream is overwhelming. But there is a moment, one tiny moment that if I don’t pay attention, I will miss it. My oars are down, my body is drenched, my hands are battered and warn from all of the effort. When all of a sudden, the cacophony of fear and pain suddenly quiets, and the soft sound of the stream gently floats up from beneath me. I look down and see, life. Tiny fish swimming freely, leaping out of the water and gliding through the water. A rainbow of stones, muted in color but still reflecting the light behind the clouds. As I am focused on the beauty beneath me, I notice the rain has stopped, the path has cleared, and I’m gently floating along the stream.
I look around and see others, still screaming at the rain. I try to tell them that if they look down, if they look into the stream, the rain will stop. Not because I feel superior now that I know how to see differently, but because I see the freedom that exists in this place and know that they too can see it. But their vision is blurred, by all of the rain. Most don’t even hear me. So, I sit here in my boat, going with the flow and do my best to ignore the rain.
Recently, I have been experiencing a downpour. A storm I didn’t create but know well, and I gave all of my attention too. I picked up my oars again. The ride got bumpy and exhausting with every vibration of thunder and strike of lightning. But I realized something while in this storm. I didn’t forget the stream; I weathered the storm. The oars in my hands weren’t trying to steer me away from the rain, I was using them to guide myself through it. Not full control but not quite surrender. That may not seem like much but having spent a large portion of my time in my boat, screaming at the rain and paddling for dear life, I call that progress.
I used to move myself into spaces where my screaming would be heard and reflected. I would tell the world of my struggles, with the hope that someone somewhere would have a way to fix it or make it better. This time, instead of surrendering to the chaos, I surrendered to my peace.
Discovering who I am, fostering the relationship I have with myself, has changed everything about my life. What I now know of my truth, means that though this storm may be one I have experienced before, I am not the same. Or maybe I am more of myself. I know what the stream holds. I know the part of the stream that exists within me.
My journey is not an isolated experience, individual sure, but I am not “special” in having gone through what I have gone through. My healing is mine, and I am grateful for every single drop of rain. But there are a few specific things I have learned along this journey that I would like to share, in the hopes that someone out there might find them useful for their journey.
If I find myself in the midst of a storm, I get off of the internet. Whether I am engaging in the chaos or the peace, I am focused everywhere but within myself. Which feeds the storm and distracts. Not helpful for me.
Negative emotions are just indicators for where my focus is. They tell me, “If you keep looking at this, you will see more of it.” Kind of like buying a new car and suddenly seeing it everywhere. I am paying for my experience, by focusing my attention.
The success of others is a reflection of my own success, not something I have to compete with or feel inferior to.
The stream never stops flowing.
If it doesn’t feel good, don’t do it, don’t look at it, don’t engage with it.
These are personal truths and beliefs of mine. I understand that for some they might create, one of my favorite words, dissonance. I’m not here to proselytize. This is simply me, sharing another bit, of Bea.
If I am not here, or there, or anywhere you can see me. I am not gone. I am just learning better ways to float through the rain.
Happy healing, friend.
~Bea
Thank you for sharing this.
Beautiful. You're so wise and I know you've done the hard work to get here. Thank you for sharing with us