Feeling stuck is a universal human experience. The recent pandemic had many of us feeling stuck in one way or another: Some of us were stuck inside, others stuck outside; some stuck away from home, others stuck at home. Stuck without a mission; stuck with too many responsibilities; stuck with too few resources. The list goes on.
While the pandemic amplified these feelings, at various times we’ve all struggled with them in more prosaic ways. I know I have. We are stuck in a relationship; stuck in a job; stuck in a routine. While now no longer physically stalled, many of us remain trapped in a swirl of challenging thoughts and emotions, hindered in our career paths, financial journeys, or life dreams, vacillating between okay and not-okay. The feelings of being stuck seems to be ubiquitous in our society.
And, while circumstances can certainly dictate some of our options, it is our mindset that truly determines how we feel in the world. Our societal norms and conditioning have so many of us fighting an internal battle between the shoulds and the wants, between fitting in and belonging. Over time, we risk losing ourselves, finding our hearts buried beneath a pile of responsibilities we never actually wanted, locked away behind walls we never intended to construct, and suffering the regret of unsaid words. In the end, we’re trapped by fear.
So what do you do to free yourself? To loosen the grip? To let go?
When I’m feeling constrained (most often by a story I’m telling myself), I head for the hills, the water, the woods. These places have magic to share, spells to cast, lessons to teach. The natural world—and all her remarkably complex systems—embodies flux, adaptability, flow; creativity, beauty, regeneration, reciprocity. She is a living, breathing, ever-changing antidote to stuck.
Water, in particular, is powerful medicine and a balm, not just for feelings of stuck, but to so many of society’s ills. Perhaps more than any other medium on the planet, she demonstrates what it means to move with ease, fluidity, and grace. She teaches us how to navigate constrictions, how to find another route, how to let go.
How do we begin modeling these characteristics in our own lives? Stepping into a life of flow is a bold aspiration, and for many, one that is far from reality. Yet, as I wrote in Why Your ‘Stupid Little Walk’ Might Be the Most Revolutionary Act of All, each and every step, action, decision you make in service of your soul—no matter how small—matters. Agency matters. Each small movement strengthens your muscles, building the courage, determination, and self-confidence required to live life on your own terms—to live a life of flow.
Here are six lessons I’ve learned from spending time in, on, and around water:
Let go of the past. One thing a river teaches a novice rafter—in short order—is that when you’ve made a mistake (by say, taking the wrong line and momentarily getting hung up on a rock), you must quickly readjust, let go of what just transpired, and look ahead. No doubt our mistakes, hurts, and lost opportunities are painful, but ruminating on the past only prolongs healing. While you can’t undo the past, you can work to accept it, and ultimately, to find peace by forgiving yourself and others.
Practice Mindful Observation. Water beckons us to quiet ourselves, watch her intently, and clear our minds. Mindful Observation is a simple technique whereby you choose a natural object within your immediate environment and focus on it for a few minutes. It could be moving water, the rustling leaves of a tree, a wispy veil of clouds. By bringing your beginner’s mind you might see an object as if for the first time, noticing the nuances of its beingness—its form, colors, movement, relationship to its surrounding, its purpose, and perhaps even connect with its energy. Cultivating awareness and presence in this way helps us tap into greater spaciousness within, quell anxiety, approach life challenges more calmly and clearly, and hold compassion for ourselves and others.
Move your body. Water flows with ease—adapting, stretching, dripping, pounding. We’ve all, at one point or another, found ourselves entranced by her graceful flows, her raw power, her glistening surfaces. We’ve also witnessed the way in which dams dampen her magic, diminish her sparkle, stifle life. The same happens to our bodies and, perhaps more subtly but equally damaging, to our minds and souls. Movement is medicine. Celebrate movement by walking, doing yoga, dancing. Stretch, flow, jump, run. Science tells us this will not just make you feel good, but it will clear your thinking and improve your attention span.
Find your purpose. Paulo Coelho so beautifully wrote, “The waters of a river adapt themselves to whatever route proves possible, but never forgets its one objective: the sea. So fragile at its source, it gradually gathers the strength of the other rivers it encounters. And, after a certain point, its power is absolute.” Purpose and meaning go beyond your job, responsibilities, and goals. They are about what makes you feel most alive. Psychology shows us that finding purpose and meaning helps us feel a part of something, and simultaneously, become less self-absorbed. It enables us to engage so fully in an activity—for its own sake—that our egos fall away and we enter a state of flow. It leads to greater caring, integrity, and personal growth. Now is the time to explore questions of where and how you feel most happy, centered, grounded; what your favorite activities are; what makes you feel most fulfilled.
Get your creative juices flowing. Water is the ultimate creator, and the beauty she spurs—dancing cranes, lilting reeds, complex microbial webs, deep sandstone caverns—is almost beyond comprehension. You, too, can enhance your wellbeing by tapping into your own creative flows. Studies show that making art, playing music, writing, and dancing provide physical benefits, including strengthening your immune system and helping to manage pain, while elevating mood, enhancing self-esteem, healing trauma, and decreasing anxiety, depression, and distress.
Start with small changes. At times, water displays her raw power with lashing rains, surging tides, and rogue tsunamis. These angry outbursts can be transformative. Yet, her deeper power comes through persistent action. In gentle trickles over eons, she wears through layers of rock to form deep canyons (like the Grand Canyon in the top image); with constant tidal currents she carries sand along shorelines, distributing it in rhythmic beach cusps; with consistent cycles of wetting and drying, she spalls stone. Over years, she sweeps through watersheds, collecting inorganic minerals and organic matter, and brings them to the sea in an alchemical stew to bestow life. Small changes in your daily choices matter. They may feel inconsequential, but taking steps—no matter how small—serves to decrease feelings of overwhelm while allowing your mind to develop new habits. And, over time, these small changes will accumulate and help you accomplish your goals.
This is typically for paid subscribers. As a thank you, I’m making it available to everyone for a limited time.
I invite you to dive in and explore one or more of these practices and see if they help you feel even a little bit less stuck. To carving your own Grand Canyon.
xo Wendy
I love how you are integrating nature in
LOVE this, Wendy! Thanks for the water touch. Restacking!