One Drop In A Hundred Gallons

on finding what doesn't change when the storm hits

We were fishing in the breakers in Ugashik. Late season. Big weather rolling in off the Bering Sea. Salmon swim closer to shore in heavy seas because there’s less resistance. Their home stream is what doesn’t change for them. They know it viscerally, can smell one drop of their home stream in a hundred gallons of seawater. Their whole mission in life is to get back there, no matter the intensity of the storm.

If you want to catch fish, go where the fish are. So we went to the beach.

The boat went parallel to shore. A wave came starboard, behind me. I didn’t see it. My body slammed into the aluminum reel as the boat listed hard port. For a moment I was lying nearly flat on a surface that’s typically plumb. As we crested the wave, we listed hard starboard. I held on for dear life. My feet dangled over the gunwale. If my grip slipped, I thought, my face would smack the gunwale on my way overboard.

No one wore life vests. I was in full Grundens rain gear. If I went over, I might drown before the waves rolled me onto shore.

Then the boat righted. Bookie turned into the next wave and took it over the bow. I was still holding on, white-knuckled on the reel brake, laughing wide-eyed with my crew.

In that moment, something I didn’t expect happened: my whole body calmed down. Looking at the dunes on shore, I thought, there is earth beneath the ocean. I realized that, whether I lived or died that day, I was part of something greater. That I was being held, protected. I was safe in the waves. That gave me courage, hope, confidence.

What doesn’t change represents solidness, reliability, trustability. It’s the land beneath the roiling ocean. The foundation under the house. The soil from which the tree grows. The core of the earth beneath the activity at the planet’s crust.

This might seem abstract at first, but stay with me for a moment.

Imagine pure awareness beneath all reaction, thought, emotion, and sensation. When our actions are witnessed by others (or ourselves) with non-judgment and zero agenda—with love—they’re more meaningful.

The unchanging awareness is not more important than the changing emotions or actions. It’s supporting them through witnessing.

From quantum mechanics we’ve learned that atoms change behavior when they’re being witnessed. Human psychology reveals the same about us.

For me, what doesn’t change is the solidness, openness, and equanimity of a healthy father archetype, the king. No contraction into ego, no pulling away, no rejection of what is. Just acceptance and trust.

Radical wholeness.

Ironically, what doesn’t change is that everything is changing all the time. On the quantum level to the astronomical. That basic law is something we can lean into, something we can trust. Nothing that feels stuck will be stuck forever. Nothing will stay the same.

What doesn’t change is an invitation into agency. An invitation to wake up to the reality that you’re not actually subject to the power and status games of others. You get to choose how you participate in relationships and how you treat yourself.

It’s an invitation to look inside, to orient toward—then from—your depth, to face your pain in service to being more present. To step into leadership. To live the life that’s actually happening through you rather than the one that’s happening to you.

When you start becoming aware of the patterns of belief and behavior that have been running your life, you begin to have more choice about how you want to show up from here.

Yesterday I was on the phone with the CEO of a local construction company. He was courting me to come on board with his team. Financial stability. But it was already coming at great personal cost. My gut was revolting.

I overrode it as much as I could because I told myself I needed the money. We spoke about his expectations. Long work hours, six to seven days a week doing hard physical labor and project management. Working Saturdays, checking in Sunday nights and every day before 6am.

Then he said it: I don’t want to hear about how you have a kid, ever again.

I felt it. This wasn’t a good fit for me. I knew I had to say no. Despite a near-empty bank account. Despite my fear.

I silently asked myself: what doesn’t change?

Suddenly there was a wash of spaciousness in my body. Joy. A signal I knew I should follow.

I summoned courage and told him: I don’t think this is going to be a good fit. No hard feelings. No burned bridges. Just a clear no.

I went home, changed out of my dirty carpentry outfit into something that felt great. Got a haircut. Took myself out to lunch. Felt the vulnerability of that, and also the potential. The integrity of living my life from what doesn’t change within myself.

Felt alive in a way I hadn’t for many months.

We’re all in the flow of life that changes. Schedules, emotions, responsibilities, tasks, adventures. The simple chopping wood and carrying water of life. But it’s easy to get caught in the riptide, to get taken out to sea. To feel alone in it, unrewarded for hard work and effort. To feel caught in the swirl of trauma triggers or reactivity or fear. To feel disconnected from our hearts, from each other. To feel as if we’ve been misdirected by the culture to value things that don’t actually matter. To feel involuntarily attached to things that soothe or distract us from our pain. Porn, video games, Instagram, alcohol. The surface of things.

When we stay on the surface, we stay on the surface.

Some people don’t realize their depth. Others are afraid of it. Your nervous system can signal you’re going to die if you feel that fear again, if you go near that conflict. So you learn to avoid it. Walk on eggshells and call it discipline.

Orienting to what doesn’t change isn’t trying to get you to do different things. It’s about where you’re acting from. From the core. From your essence. From your depth. From what doesn’t change within yourself. From the place within that’s infinitely resourced, capable, trustable.

This applies whether your path is following a calling, building a business, navigating a career change, becoming a father, divorcing your soulmate, or dealing with heartbreaking social strife.

Humans are wired for connection. When we feel alone, disconnected, in a loop of fear or trauma or pain, we suffer. When we’re in a holding pattern, burdened and enduring and believe we need to go it alone, we suffer unnecessarily.

Sometimes we take that suffering out on ourselves. Often on others as well, sometimes in ways we aren’t even aware of. It’s automatic, based on templates from childhood or the military or whatever experiences shaped us.

What formed us does not need to define us. We have choice in who we become. The path back to our own essence is helped mightily by having a compass reading, a map of the territory, an X on the map.

That X is what doesn’t change. It’s home. Your essence. The essential, core, integrated self that does not question or doubt itself, does not need to make itself bigger or smaller. You are able to sit with paradox and rest into the the reality that all is true.

That doesn’t mean all your struggles disappear. We’re humans. This life is messy. We make mistakes, get thrown off course, get tossed off our center because storms happen.

What doesn’t change is an anchor that allows you to come back to center, rest, recharge. It is nourishment, clear boundaries, joyful sacrifice. So when you step into leadership, business, fatherhood, or the chaos of the world, you’re connected, aware, present, humble, trustable.

How do you feel it? First you slow down. Pay attention to your breath. That’s really all of it: paying attention. Reclaiming your attention. Choosing where to place your attention. Valuing the attention itself, valuing where it comes from, and valuing what you notice.

Sensations in the body. Feet on the ground. Heartbeat. Sounds. Quality of the light.

It often shows up in the central column of the body. In the chest, in the gut. There’s an openness, a soft readiness, an engagement.

Sometimes in a difficult moment I ask myself silently: what doesn’t change? That in and of itself helps my nervous system settle. The relationship is strong. The neural networks tied to resource and spaciousness are like superhighways in my brain, after years of redirecting my attention toward resource, goodness, trust.

I can only point to the door of perception. This work is about awareness, agency, liberation. It offers an experience of connection even as you choose to dismantle structures of power and conditioning within yourself.

Feeling the rootedness into what doesn’t change offers a resource of connection and support that you can tap into as you expand your awareness, your ability to sense and feel more, to face into your pain. Whether it’s conflict, trauma, pressure, overwhelm, a far-out psychedelic experience, or stepping onto a stage to share your calling with the world.

That connection offers a lifeline in the deepest experiences of vulnerability.

The salmon know their home stream. One drop in a hundred gallons. They swim toward it through the storm. Together.

What doesn’t change is calling you home.

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