Letting the silt settle

There is not much sweeter in this life than a clear, cold and wild body of water. Whether it is a high mountain lake that is the most perfect color of blue you’ve ever seen or a small but mighty stream flowing over brightly colored stones.

There was a time about two years ago that my greatest teacher was this sweet and wild water. For months, I was called to rivers, streams, lakes and waterfalls. I couldn’t quite explain it but I knew I couldn’t deny this need to step into every body of water I met. Some mornings this was slipping off my shoes during my morning walk with Trek and stepping into the chilly water, even when snow was still on the ground. Other days only a hand would slip into the water to say hello. And on magical occasions, I would strip off all my clothes (or sometimes change into a swimsuit) and dive in no matter the weather!

I did not miss a day of meeting with water for over four months. Nearly every day, a lesson was learned. Sometimes it felt like a remembering, other times, a recollection but always a reinforcing. As humans, we learn best with repetition and through lived experience. To me, it felt as if these short encounters with water were slowly shifting my being. By a fraction of a degree at a time, my mind, body and spirit were returning to the wisest part of myself.

I’m sitting on a quiet little porch of my Airbnb in the countryside of Tennessee and so many of these lessons from two years ago are flooding back to me. (See what I did there!?) There is one lesson that feels extra potent for this moment.

If you have ever walked into a clear stream or river, you can recall the plume of silt that even a single step can kick up. If you know the river well, you may be able to hop from rock to rock and avoid the siltiest points. But when unsure or in a hurry, footsteps seem to land with more force, making the water cloudy in an instant.

The magic of a clear river is the ability to see everything it contains. The fish, the bugs, the stones at the bottom, all within your sight no matter how deep. You know where you are stepping because you can clearly see it all.

Sometimes our lives feels like walking through a river. When it’s clear, it feels safe. We know where to step, we can see what obstacles lie ahead and the best way to navigate them. A year ago, my life felt like this. My vision was clear, my environment was safe and I knew right where to step.

But then there is the silt. The soft layer of mud some rivers contain that no matter how carefully you step, your feet will kick up a cloud. The most frustrating part is this cloud of silt follows your footsteps wherever you go. When it gets murky all around you, it is still possible to see the clear water in the distance. But as desperately as you try to reach it, each step stirs up more and more silt. The faster you move, the more aggressively you fight towards the clear water, the worse the clarity becomes.

At times over the past few months, I felt as if I was walking through this silty river. Trying as hard as I could to get to the clear water I could see in the distance. I attempted to run, jump, tip toe and crawl to no avail. Every movement I made, more silt got turned up, the less clarity I had.

This is when the remembering of the lesson from two years ago came back to me. The only way to find your way back to the clear part of the river is to pause.

To wait as still as possible for all the silt to settle like the snow in a snow globe. This requires patience and often a good deal of discomfort. To stand still with a complete lack of clarity can feel anything but safe.

But by taking the action of not acting, clarity will find you. The flow of the river will begin to settle the silt back to its place and remove the cloud surrounding you. It is only then, in the uncomfortable pause, that the clear and safe river returns.

As I started unpacking my car at this Airbnb, I felt as if I stopped trying to move towards the clear part of the river. I allowed myself to take a complete pause. Less than a week here and the silt has settled beautifully. I can see my feet and the surrounding stones vividly again.

I feel safe in the river again. For a moment, I was able to tolerate the discomfort of stillness to find clarity in the end.

It is not the first time I’ve felt this sense of settling over the past few months and it will not be the last. It is also a reminder that there will also be times I will kick up the silt again. No matter how carefully I move, when walking through a river, it’s inevitable.

Perhaps the key is to find a deeper tolerance for both states. More focus in the times of clarity and more strength in the times of murkiness. And of course remembering that our sight is only one of the many senses we use to move through this world…but that is an entirely different topic, for another day!