deb roush

Remember before reading: I don’t envision these essays to be great works of writing. The words are not intended to inspire amazing change in the world or cause anyone to take deliberate pause. They are merely a way for me to share stories of my life and thoughts, or day, mostly with Kyle and Rene – my two kids. I want to leave something behind so they know who I was, the ideas that streamed through my mind and what was what. In my own words.

I say that so when I write about the goldfish in my pond it won’t seem completely ridiculous.

Most people who know me remember that Rene, my BFF Dan and I built a pond in my backyard years ago, and it is truly one of my life’s greatest delights. I enjoy growing gorgeous lilies and have experimented with other water gardening. The birds in my (National. Wildlife. Certified. Backyard. Yes. I. Am. Totally. Bragging.) relish refreshing baths and drinks in the hot Arkansas summers.

My pond … see the waterfall on the right? You can even spot a couple of the orange fish!

So this evening I was in the yard watering plants and replenishing the pond with fresh water. At this point I should also add that most people who know me well also know I have a serious anxiety disorder and suffer from panic attacks. I regularly see an amazing “life coach” – Dr. Rose Smith. (OK, she’s a psychologist, but doesn’t life coach make me sound so much more like I’m a movie star or that I have have my act together?) I met with Rose yesterday, and we practiced mindfulness, which is when you experience just being in a moment rather than constantly having to do something. I have a problem with always having to “do” when I need to just “be.” Mindfulness is an activity that reduces stress. So I thought, as I was standing there with the hose and my glass of wine, I’ll just practice some mindfulness. I decided to focus on the fish, to just enjoy their vibrant colors while observing them swimming through the water, witnessing their beauty and how they like being together frolicking in the cool water I was spraying.

But my mind wandered.

And where it went was to one of my handful of goldfish – the ordinary ole’ fantail that was someone’s “rehomed” pet years ago – who had developed large, grotesque, bumps all over its body recently. I focused on that fish and those excitedly dancing around it in the water pouring in. I noticed, as I had in the past, that the fantail was just one of the half-dozen fish that travel together in a school of sorts. And here’s the thing: The gorgeous white fish, the large, leader-of-the pack vibrant orange fish and the rest of the players in the pond didn’t really care that the fantail is ugly. They just swam together. They like each other equally. Their different colors, their disfigurements, well, they just didn’t matter.

Here’s the pack! The little guy on the bottom is the one with the growths … but nobody seems to notice.

I wish we could all live in my pond.

In my experience, particularly where I live now in Little Rock, Arkansas, the color of your fish scales matters. You are treated differently for it. And that’s not all. In the real world, if you are dissimilar in any way – say, you are a six-foot-tall woman – someone has to point that out. Daily. I expect that is the same if you are a burn victim, have scars, are overweight, have adult acne, are short or bald, sport a prosthetic, are wheelchair bound, wear funny glasses or are diverse in any way.

You’re not allowed to really swim with the other fish.

Basically, today’s mindfulness exercise failed. I didn’t maintiain focus on the beauty of the moment and experience it without a nomadic mind. But, as Rose says, that’s OK. I may not have benefitted from a relaxation exercise, but I certainly appreciated the opportunity to reflect, for a moment, on the absolute truth. And to stretch my mind to think that it is not only OK, but perhaps even great, to be different.

I’m going to try harder to be like the fish in my pond. When I come across that one with growths all over its body, I’m going to ignore the deformities. I’m going to be excited that I’m in the moment, and attempt to be mindful and enjoy that someone is spraying cool water on us on a ridiculously hot day. I will relish those who are unique and swim with them. Without judgement.

Equally important, when some fish don’t want to swim with me, which they often don’t, I’m going to be alright. Or at least I’m going to try.

That, I admit, may even be harder.