I flow like water

When I was in grade school, my family took spring break trips from bitter wintry Michigan to sun-bursting St. Augustine, Florida. Without understanding why, my preteen Pisces self became utterly obsessed with the ocean. Each morning I would rise with the sun and, as weird as it might sound, I would have full conversations with the ocean.

There was something mystical about the ocean; its vastness, its awe, its mystery, its never-ending flow. Walking along the coast provided space for and connection to a meditative part of myself I didn’t know existed. It felt like each time I shared a worry or a fear with the ocean, it’s crashing waves would respond with a nugget of inner wisdom.

When spring break ended and my family returned to Michigan, instead of Dear Diary entries, I’d fill notebooks with Dear Ocean entries. I would communicate with and pray to the ocean from afar. I couldn’t wrap my adolescent brain around the idea of a God who lives in the clouds, but I could sense something much larger than myself in the ocean.

Naturally, when I recently stumbled upon a Taoism tradition called the Water Course Way, my interest peaked. The Water Course Way suggests we flow like water. Water is always moving, always shifting. Water never fights against the temperature or the wind or whatever vessel it might be in; it simply adapts and fills space. Water goes with the flow. Water is powerful and gentle, loud and quiet, soothing and drowning. Water is a true paradox.

Alcohol, bulimia, and drugs kept me removed from the natural, waterlike flow of life. I numbed out the bad stuff, along with the good. I was fighting against my own emotional tides. But, when I attempt to flow like water, I too, possess a vastness, an awe, a mystery, and a never-ending flow. Water knows that all emotional waves - the good and the bad - will eventually pass, just like the waves always passed in St. Augustine.

Getting sober continuously forces me to face emotions I have been avoiding for decades. Maybe my preteen Pisces self somehow knew deep down in my bones that water is an excellent teacher. Water knows nothing is permanent, everything passes. When I attempt to flow like water, there is space within myself to hold grief and joy, anger and excitement, fear and wonder. Like water, I too, am a true paradox.

I flow like water.