Lessons from Braided Rivers: Real-life Resilience

I live not far from some pretty wild rivers.

Not the tame kind you see in postcards - narrow, obedient streams that trundle on, knowing their place. The rivers I paddle on are braided. Many different channels within a wide basin, restless, constantly shifting. From above, they look like aquamarine threads pulled through silver sand, never still, never predictable. Out on the water, they demand your full  attention. You’re forever scanning to pre-empt the next twist, judging where the water’s deep, the current safe enough, the various obstacles safely avoidable. Sometimes you get it right. Sometimes, you don’t. Honestly, I suspect I've spent more time in those rivers learning how to kayak than on them.

Lately, I’ve come to realise navigating these rivers is a lot like life though.

For a long time, I have described resilience through the metaphor of crossroads. Those big life moments we sadly all face - when a crisis barges in, uninvited, unwanted, walloping our life and turning it upside down. A death, a diagnosis, a divorce. You find yourself standing at a fork in the road, life as you imagined going one way while you're now forced to walk another: a path you didn't see coming and certainly wouldn't choose. The old road, that life, now gone. That metaphor helped me name something so many of us feel: the bewilderment and grief of having your future rewritten in an instant.

But lately, I find myself reaching for a different image. One closer to home. Because much of the time, the challenges and changes in our lives don't just present in one clear moment of decision. The knocks, the choices, and the obstacles, can be smaller, multiple and on-going. 

We can find ourselves in a daily wrestle with uncertainty. A series of shifting demands and unexpected blockages. A constant need to read the water, make decisions under pressure, conserve energy when you can, and stay afloat - even when you’re drenched, exhausted, and have no idea where the shoreline is.

A braided river doesn’t run straight, and neither does life.

Some days, we have to paddle hard and power through. On other days, between the rapids, we'd do well to appreciate the calmer moments and allow ourselves to drift, regroup, recalibrate while we can. Then, just as suddenly, we're faced with more choices coming at us minute by minute, choices that have big down-stream impacts, and not much notice. Sometimes, we get it wrong and fall right out of the damn boat, but have to climb back in and keep going forward, bracing ourselves for what happens next, knowing there will be more obstacles ahead. There always will be.

The thing about these rivers is, they never stop changing and challenging us. What was navigable yesterday might be impassable today. What looked dangerous might actually carry you swiftly through. There’s no single perfect path and it's up to us to choose, to keep making those small, consequential choices, moment to moment.

This, I believe, is the heart of resilience. Not avoiding the rapids or imagining there'll only be flat water and happiness. But learning how to move with the river, be a part of it, accept that you cannot control it all but can only do the best you can in every minute. Equip yourself well, by all means - by learning how to steer, when to rest, when to dig deep, and when to simply float and breathe - accrue a solid support crew, and never paddle alone, but know and accept that you can never fully control the journey you're on.

I still love the crossroads metaphor. It holds its power - especially for those big, seismic life events that split time into before and after. But thinking of life as a braided river with many twists, turns, and unknowns, has merit too. It fits with my understanding that life is unpredictable and will challenge us all, that we must soak up the good times - those meandering moments - and use them to regroup and restore ready for whatever comes next. And, most of all, we need to grow sufficient self-awareness to back ourselves to pick the best route we can and the self-compassion to know that we'll get it wrong. 

Go with the river, let it take you, do the best you can and don't expect more.