Prefer to listen? Hit play below and enjoy the full blog in audio!
Notes from a Woman Learning to Be a Brook, and Not a Raging River
Hello, my dearest fellow Loungers,
Yesterday I had a conversation with my mom about life. About how it doesn’t move in straight lines, but more like a river.
We plan, we anticipate, and sometimes we brace ourselves for what we think is coming.
(Usually with colour-coded spreadsheets in our heads — and on Excel!)
And then the river turns.
You can stand on the bank, study the map, overthink the weather, and pack emotional life jackets, but you still don’t know what’s around the bend until you get there. Life has a habit of changing its mind. Sometimes slowly, and other times without so much as a courtesy email.
A small example: we thought my daughter would only get her car in January. That single assumption shaped how I imagined my December. The logistics, the stress, the responsibility, and the mental gymnastics. And then, suddenly, that changed.
It wasn’t dramatic or magical (for her, it probably was!).
For me, it was just… different.
And that one shift altered everything downstream. (Including my stress levels!)
I’m not talking about those flooding rivers that tear through everything in their path after a storm, all muddy, frantic, carrying debris, someone’s patio furniture, and some unresolved childhood issues.
Right now, healing feels more like a gentle, cool brook, with the clearest water running over shiny pebbles. Slow enough that you can actually see what’s beneath the surface.
Still moving, just not in a rush… and definitely not shouting at anyone on the riverbank.
Most of our worry is built on fears of futures that haven’t happened yet. We exhaust ourselves preparing for stretches of river we may never have to swim, convincing ourselves the current will be brutal, the water freezing, and that we’ll definitely forget how to float. I love how FEAR is described by some as “False Evidence Appearing Real.”
Carrying on doesn’t mean blind optimism either.
It doesn’t mean pretending everything will work out while aggressively praying for certain changes or miracles to happen.
Sometimes it simply means staying long enough to see whether the river turns, turning onto your back, looking up, and floating.
Because sometimes the river does change.
And when it does, the landscape ahead looks nothing like the one you were bracing yourself for.
You don’t have to know how it will all unfold.
You don’t need certainty, clarity, or a five-year life plan laminated and framed.
You only have to stay in the river today.
Tomorrow may already be bending, but that is for tomorrow to figure out. Today, we float.
And if all you can manage today is being a slightly confused, but well-intentioned brook, you’re still moving forward, my friend.
I am looking forward to seeing you in my Lounge again.
Until next time, much love,
SUZ
The Lounge Philosopher 