top of page

The Variegated Theme



 

👇 click

❣️ Are you a current client? First time here?

 









I'm self conscious


So here I am again.... Again.



 

The nature of this seemingly inescapable, cyclical way of growing is as disheartening as it is infuriating... and I suppose —from time to time— comforting in its familiarity.


"Didn't we already learn this lesson?" is the petulant inquiry of this wholly incensed part of me convinced we should only ever have to go through something once in order to fully experience, internalize, contextualize, deconstruct, understand, tend to, apply the lessons from, break the habitual patterns of, reprogram... and thus blissfully move on to the next best way of being.


Yet somehow the frustratingly smug Sage of Lived Experience seems to entirely disagree with this preconceived notion... over and over again... very convincingly.


Theme and Variation.


That seems to be the way... Like music theory.


We start out hearing a melody: something memorable, clear, distinct — we'll probably be humming it later — and then it fades into a swell of orchestration, harmonies, and accompaniment... only to resurface: but this time in a new way, in a new context with different instruments alongside it; or different phrases, interwoven throughout it again and again— never boring because it's never the same... but always distinctly itself.


Swelling theme amongst variation.


Ebbing and bobbing back up just in time to be recognized in a way we've never known it before.


Someone once said to me,


"We don't ever actually work things out... We just work them through. Through to a new layer. To a new level. A new variation. Same theme... all lifelong."

So here I am again... Again.


And yet it's not quite the same — recognizable enough to bring in the frustration, shame, and annoyance born of the grim recognition of repeated repetition — yet distinct enough... well... For me to find myself here... Again.


It feels like I'm swimming in the ocean, but not the ocean off the beach — sand and swell and castles and crabs— no.


The ocean off an island's edge:



Open sea sweeping me out on one side and rough black rock on the other— ready to teach me how truly vulnerably soft this beloved body of mine really is.


And every time I jump in and swim... The tide goes out... the tide comes in.


And I ride it.


And you know what? Every time I do get better at swimming. Every time I find new strokes, new eddies of ripple and tide...


And then... every time... at some point... inevitably...


The rocks: the pain, the reminder of who's in charge here— or rather, who isn't. The keyword, there, being: me.


The carefully controlled panic as I realize I'm on the edge of real danger here— perhaps already over it. Hard to tell in the moment.


" I'm all right." I say, "I've got this. This is still... fun."


And the scramble back to shore: to safety...


Somehow, crawling gratefully back onto sand.


Feeling wiser: knowing of an exhilaration others don't. And somewhat ashamed: feeling the fresh wounds from the rocks atop the faintly healing scars from the time before.


And eventually, often far too quickly, I tell everyone what I've learned: with self-effacing, humorous humility and earnest intent.


Then I dry in the sun, breathing in lungfuls of gratitude for the soft, forgiving warmth beneath my shaken frame. Thinking on what I know of my tussle with the ocean's ferocity...


And... As I peacefully ponder — the sun baking, the sand cradling me... I hear the crash of the waves.


At first, distant and menacing: as the water slaps the rock: reminiscent of my own corporeal punishment of late.


Then a bit closer: somehow a bit more comforting, they sound now. Thinking about the swell and flow and remembering the adventures I've been on...


And finally: loud and close and insistent and alluring— and I feel too dry. My skin shrunken around my body from the alchemy of salt and sun...


And I look back toward the sea and I see a new way in. A new opening amidst the impenetrable surf and spray— different than the times before — eddying and flowing enigmatically. Awe inspiring as always. And the sun gleams off the spray. And I remember how cool the water will feel. Nothing to fear... Here... Again...


A new swell of a familiar theme, varied just enough.


And suddenly I'm diving back in.


Keen eyed, inspired, relieved to return.


Sure of what's to come.


I don't know...

What do you think?



 


Support my work below if you feel called to do so.

Sign up & comment below to contribute to the conversation...




3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


Join in the conversation. . .

Awesome. So happy to have you!

I look forward to connecting more soon.

bottom of page