she knows to reach out softly
some supports are built on sand
meant simply to steady
only those with depth can hold her
Original Images
I used a few images taken on the beach in new ways. I started with this portrait of her reaching out into space. I wanted something for her to lean on. So I used another beach image to add support.
Reflection
This helped me collect some of my thoughts on the idea of support, drawing on my own experiences. Sometimes support comes in unexpected places, from people whom you never really ‘know’ but somehow are able to offer or provide precisely what is needed. Experiencing what it’s like to be without support, to reach out into space like she is here, helps you feel just how valuable that presence is.
Some supports are the kind built on sand, not meant to hold much weight, but are incredibly helpful to steady you along your way. And a very special few are there to hold you more fully, offer a deep rest, even if only in brief moments.
This video that circulates every Father’s Day has been on my mind and in my heart still. This year I saw something new. How does that saying go, something like ‘you don’t need new landscapes, you need to see a landscape with new eyes’? Watching this year, I was struck by all the details in this experience of receiving a deep kind of support.
I tear up watching because I know, in an experiential way, that moment of melting into support. At first, when his dad offers his hand and puts the other around him, he continues in the same body posture – rigid, the way you need to carry yourself when you have to be the structure, the container, and the emotional experience, when you have to do it all on your own.
It takes a moment or two for him to shift, to soften into the support, to let his guard down, maybe to trust at some level. Trust may take longer for some people, depending on their past experiences with support. He melts and is held both physically and emotionally. The dad is the container, providing the son with space to feel. And then the son releases some pain, enough in that moment for him to move forward without rigidly hobbling, or being collapsed, more relaxed.
I imagine he could have continued on his own. And this would have been admired; people would all stand and cheer. And he could feel pride in that accomplishment. But there is a cost to rigidly holding yourself like that for too long. Stress on the body and the nervous system. He could have continued alone, but how beautiful it is that he didn’t have to.
“Our containers are truly the most important benefactors of our lives. Whether our exposure to them has been brief or long, they have allowed us to feel safely held and soothed – attuned to the mind and heart of another human being.”
-Stephen Cope, Deep Human Connection
