Today the beach yoga class was disrupted at the tree pose because a huge ray arrived, flapping in the shallow sea behind us- waving its fin as if to say ‘Good morning!’ Grateful for the yoga teacher’s permission to follow nature’s interlude, we ran along the beach beside it, watching as it gracefully skirted the shore, unsure if it was a threat to the swimmers.
(I didn’t have my camera, so here’s a link to pictures of what I discovered later was an eagle ray- they are beautiful and spotty!).
I think I wrote in one of my earliest posts here in Cayman that one of the phrases I heard a lot when I arrived here was; ‘Oh, it’s the Caribbean’. It was offered up with a shrug, as explanation to anything bonkers that happened, or that didn’t go to plan. It was maddening. Although the shift from a culture that expects things to go to plan, to the Caribbean attitude that takes things as they come is an adjustment that might move at the speed of a tanker, it is definitively in motion!
One of the tough life lessons here is that no matter what you think life is offering up to you, there is always something unexpected that might distract you or disrupt things. It might be a momentary distraction, or a significant one, but it usually has a consequence and presents a new opportunity or a decision. There is no right decision, but sometimes the only thing to be done is let the head yell about all the what-ifs, driven by fear, and to follow your heart regardless.
In a similar vain, my planned post today is disrupted. It was going to be on a theme that life keeps throwing my way, and I spent a couple of hours trying to pull it together before finally giving up. I could choose to be frustrated by the waste of my afternoon. The sun has been shining and I could’ve been bathing in it, or swimming in the pool. But to what end? I would be piling more angst onto the lost hours. Who knows what will come of the thoughts and words I spent on the unposted post. And so I let go and leave another part-post in my draft Substack folder.
Today is all about the magic of the ray, waving us from the task we thought we’d shown up to do and encouraging us to take a walk to watch its show of beauty. We have to pivot.
‘It’s the Caribbean!’
The ray reminds me of thoughts I’d been having about the reference to resilience in discussions about good mental health. Something about it’s uncritical promotion unnerved me, and I was unable to elucidate why.
The necessary parts finally clicked into place when a friend posted this quote on Facebook-
"We're confusing encouraging our children to be more 'resilient' with asking them to survive unsafe environments & deny their own experience."
— Kristy Forbes
Yes!
Resilience is framed as our capacity to recover from setbacks, accepting, adapting, and flexing to the world in all its mess and chaos. However, Forbes’ quote beautifully highlights the danger of uncritically applying this concept. We need to consider what we are expecting people to do, and whether it is possible.
It reminds me of the scene in Friends where Ross, Rachel, and Chandler are trying to get a sofa upstairs, and Ross continually shouts ‘pivot’.
I don’t think it’s going to pivot anymore, Ross declares.
There comes a point where we need to remember that we are all like that sofa. No matter how much we shove and shift ourselves to try to fit, no matter how many people we get in to help us achieve it, there is only so much we can pivot. Sometimes it is simply not possible. Eventually even Ross accepts that the problem is not the sofa, or the people manoeuvring it, but the walls and the corners simply do not allow it.
Resilience is not trying to make ourselves do the impossible. Promoting resilience in the face of a world that is increasingly psychologically toxic will mean we end up with a lot of broken people, who we then blame for not being resilient enough. Instead we often need to change the environment, and if this is not possible, get the heck out of it.
Nurturing relationships
A key part of our environments are the relationships that we have. Will your relationships help your flower bloom this spring?
Last May I wrote a post about a retreat I had been to. Whilst there I pulled an oracle card. The wise woman on my card had a coracle, a small vessel made of wood and covered with skin (These vessels, I learned, are especially good for fishing because if used skilfully, they barely disturb the water and fish). The card told a story of travelling on an coracle across the sea, and on the other side being met by women who had already made the journey.
This was a powerful card that spoke to me on many levels; the place I was occupying at the time, and the place I anticipated occupying in the near future.
At the time I was surrounded by women who I saw as brave and adventurous. Women who’d walked a path I had not, but who were there to welcome me, like those wise elders on the other side of the sea. I found comfort in the idea that although I was soon to be travelling a long way from home, once I arrived at my new destination, wise and kind women would hopefully greet me there too.
At some point in our life we each have a personal journey across the sea to make. The skin is stretched taught across the bottom of our vessel, keeping us watertight and afloat, but there is only space for us inside the coracle. We have to keep paddling, and with much effort and a bit of luck, soon enough we will reach our destination.
Who are the people you hope to be there when you arrive?
My oracle card promised me a tribe of powerful women. The picture showed them smiling, which was a comfort to me! Relationships are not always easy, and what I loved about the oracle card is that there was no antagonism, no bitterness, and no expectation. The women were welcoming and treated each other with care.
The boat journey
We get to choose which parts of us go in the boat, and which parts we leave behind. Reaching beyond our fears, and daring to broaden our horizons with every paddle stroke.
We cannot control the reception we receive from others, and where there is conflict it is important to protect our boundaries, and the energetic fields that we occupy. Women are often tasked with the role of peacemaker. We can feel uncomfortable in the discomfort of conflict, and want to make it better, to the point that we sacrifice ourselves and our needs.
Last weekend a wise woman said words to the effect of;
We can’t always make things better. Things in life are often unresolved.
I didn’t like what she said, but immediately I knew it to be true. Whilst uncomfortable I can see much freedom in this statement.
It was an invitation to let go of the responsibility always to try to make it better. If something has not gone as we hoped, we can get back in our boats and paddle somewhere else, we can get out of our boat and fight back, or we can quietly acknowledge that this is how things are, breathe out anything that does not serve us, and make camp.
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
It feels like a new story to explore.
As we enter the month of March I invite you to consider what are the seas you are navigating? What helps sustain you on the difficult days, and who do you hope to welcome you when you reach the other side of the ocean?
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