Dear friend,
My family and I just spent two days at the beach in Kill Devil Hills, NC. That’s south of Duck and Kitty Hawk and north of Nags Head. And yes, those are real names of North Carolina beach towns.
The outer banks in October can be gorgeous. Have you been? The water is warmer than earlier in the year and the days aren’t so sweltering. There are fewer crowds, which means no one up in your business itching to play through your 18 holes of Jurassic Putt.
This weekend, however, the ocean was roiling. Red no-swimming flags dotted the shore. It was too windy to even fly a kite. Had this been my first trip to the beach, I might not want to go back.
Good thing the ocean is not a static thing.
The ocean is always in action
It can wave, roll, shimmer, lick, dance, and breathe.
It can whisper, caress, protect, and nurture.
It can rage, suffocate, and kill.
Plus it has a few permanent traits. It will always be wet and salty.
Being that action
Last week I wondered if I could be a verb, not a noun. As in, maybe I can only ever be whatever I am in that moment: a few permanent traits plus my current action.
I think this could help me be more intentional about how I approach myself and others. I am not a type of person; I can choose a more helpful story. Others are not one type of person; I can be less judgmental.
But thinking of a person as a verb is unusual and awkward.
Thinking of the ocean as ever changing is much easier. I can see it. It’s right there, churning and spitting, mocking my weekend plans. We were going to make the most epic sand castle.
I feel my desire that the ocean be something other than it is.
I have agency over my actions and nothing else
The ocean and I are both constantly changing — churning one day but calm the next. The ocean doesn’t get to choose, but I can. I don’t want to roil and rage. I want to nurture and provide.
The ocean’s actions, like other people, are outside of my control. It is what it is at that moment, no matter what I want it to be. I can wish it were warmer or calmer or whatever but that won’t make it so.
I know better than to get upset at the ocean. So why do I get frustrated when people aren’t what I want them to be? Is it because they are able to change at will (unlike the ocean) and I feel I should have influence over them? They should listen to me! It would be better if they were warmer and calmer.
The ocean is helping me remember… Like me, other people are not static. But I also cannot expect them to change.
Being what I am
One reason I write is because I want to show that I’m a human with hopes and fears and talents and difficulties just like you and everyone else. I don’t have it all figured out, nor do I want to pretend that I do.
I haven’t always felt safe displaying that. Maybe it’s a holdover from past generations of command and control management. Show no weakness. CYA culture (cover your ass) where people hide anything that could be used against them. Don’t screw up or you’ll lose your seat at the table. That’s exhausting, even peppered with good days.
It takes so much effort to portray. I want to be.
I don’t answer to anyone but myself since I got laid off, so I’m trying out a new, more relaxed Kate. I get to have more fun. To follow my curiosity. Not get caught up in shoulds. In that sense, being unemployed is a privilege1.
The motto of the state of North Carolina is Esse Quam Videri. To be rather than to seem. I think about this as I watch the ocean churn.
Thank you for your attention. If you smiled while reading, would you share that smile (and this post) with a friend?
As always, I welcome your thoughts.
Love,
Kate
Being unemployed is also not my preference. It is what it is for now.