Awkward Like the Swan

I've been reading David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea off and on for several years. My friend MJ sent it to me during a major time of transition when I found myself wondering what was next.

In reading a part of it today, one section made me think deeply of people I care about and their struggles to do the work they long to do. Most of these folks, like me, are trying to maintain a career that once promised long-term employment, a decent retirement, and medical benefits.

My, how things change.

Most of us also have a desire to do something that we're not doing (or we're in tech and no longer want to be). But it doesn't "make sense" in the systems in which we currently live and work. Many would say it's absurd to give up something "stable" when 1/4 of the people you know have been or fear they will be laid off.

The mentor had read him this poem from Rilke:

This clumsy living that moves lumbering
as if in ropes through what is not done,
reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.

And to die, which is the letting go
of the ground we stand on and cling to every day,
is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down
into the water, which receives him gaily
and which flows joyfully under
and after him, wave after wave,
while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,
is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown,
more like a king, further and further on.

(As translated by Robert Bly)

David then asked his mentor about exhaustion.

His mentor responds,

"The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.

You are like Rilke's Swan in his awkward waddling across the ground; the swan doesn't cure his awkwardness by beating himself on the back, by moving faster, or by trying to organize himself better. He does it by moving toward the elemental water, where he belongs. It is the simple contact with the water that gives him grace and presence. You only have to touch the elemental waters in your own life, and it will transform everything.

But you have to let yourself down into those waters from the ground on which you stand, and that can be hard. Particularly if you think you might drown."

and then,

"You must do something heartfelt, and you must do it soon. Let go of all this effort, and let yourself down, however awkwardly, into the waters of the work you want for yourself.

Your exhaustion is a form of inner fermentation. You are beginning, ever so slowly, to rot on the vine."

Later in the section, David asks himself these questions:

• What kind of work do you really want to do in the wider world?
• What are your elemental waters?
• What courageous conversations will bring you to your poetry?

He commits to doing one thing each day to move toward his future life as a poet.

"No matter how small a step I took each day, over a year that would be 365 actions toward a life that I wanted."

What are your dreams? Where are your elemental waters? Are you moving toward them? Do you think it's too risky? Is it a bigger risk to stay where you are, only half in, and rot on the vine? As David puts it, "halfway will kill you."

If you're struggling with this like I am, know you aren't alone, and I'd love to talk about it with you.

☮️❤️