Like a duck to water

I've always been a big fan of turtles. More the idea of turtle than real turtles, mind you, but the symbolism of the turtle means a lot to me: wisdom, strength, balance. The notion that the turtle holds the whole world on its shell speaks to me. That's the way I feel a lot.

But there's a new animal on my mind lately. The duck. Like a duck swimming in a pond, it's all about what's on top of the water. The duck makes it look easy, right? Above the surface it's all a graceful glide. Under the water is a different story. The damn duck is paddling for all its worth.

This image occurs to me twice a week as I "jog" in the deep water of the therapy pool. My head and shoulders glide above the water, but below the surface my arms and legs are churning away. And the better I do this, the more still I look above the surface of the water.

We've also talked a lot about the duck in choir. Brahms' Requiem is a bitch, even for professionals. And we're a small group that doesn't rehearse nearly as much as a big group does. And a lot of people are overwhelmed. But like the Duck, we smile and pretend everything is under control. And the performance is wonderful.

It's amazing how well that works. If I smile and tell you I'm ok, you assume it's the truth and you don't look for my rapidly paddling legs under the surface.... If you tell me you're doing well, I don't look for the balls you're juggling in the hand that's behind your back.

So this week, I meditate on the duck. See the duck, be the duck. Glide along, make it across the pond. That's all I need to do between now and next Monday.

Quack.