Field Notes from The Second River

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by relational dynamics.

I loved observing people. Experiencing them.

I’d wonder: What does her face look like when she's brimming over with joy?​
And also: What does it look like when she feels hopeless and alone?

I’d wonder how two completely different strangers might interact with each other.

What would happen if my jovial Grandpa Harold met my stern elementary school bus driver, Mrs. Zick, who used to yell “Sit ‘er down!” when kids stepped onto the bus? Would they like each other?

Maybe that’s part of what eventually drew me to coaching.

I genuinely want to know people.

What matters most to you?
What thoughts visit you again and again that you never say out loud?
What makes your blood boil?
What happens inside you when you feel truly seen?

That lifelong curiosity has felt newly ignited recently by a teacher of mine.

Since February, I’ve been in David Bedrick’s Process-Oriented Facilitation Certification Program. David is an author and teacher whose work focuses on helping people unshame their experiences and discover the wisdom, truth, and intelligence hidden inside their difficulties and disturbances.

He challenges the dominant healing paradigm that treats suffering as something to “fix,” instead seeing our symptoms, reactions, and struggles as meaningful messages that can deepen our relationship both with ourselves and with the world around us.

In our last two classes, David has been talking about something he calls “The Second River,” and this concept is lighting up so much in me. (If you’re curious, you can read his beautiful article on Substack about it here - you're gonna love the 3rd grader's poem about Math.)

David says there are two rivers flowing through every interaction.

The First River is the content, the what.​
The coaching session.
The dentist appointment.
The 1:1 meeting with your direct report.

The Second River is the relational field between people, what’s being communicated underneath the words, often in subtle but deeply felt ways, the how it feels.

Maybe because I’m a Highly Sensitive Person, or maybe because of that lifelong curiosity (probably both), I LOVE swimming in that Second River.

And it’s bringing back so many memories.

The creepy male optician who asked me if I had a boyfriend in my annual eye exams in middle school and high school in a small dark room inches away from my face.

The therapist I saw during the pandemic who sometimes called me Tracy and always began sessions with the same strange sentence that left me feeling vaguely irritated and unseen.

The actress-turned-guru who sometimes used shame as an “advanced” teaching tool with her staff and students.

The cold Physician’s Assistant asking me how many times I’d been pregnant as if I hadn't just written it down on the paper I handed her.

I went to each of these people seeking something: support, care, guidance, expertise, an outcome. That was the First River.

But inside my body, I could feel something happening in the Second River that didn’t feel right.

And because of power dynamics, conditioning, and a lifetime of messages telling women to be accommodating, convenient, and “not make waves,” I often went along with it.

And honestly, these examples are small potatoes compared to other moments in my life where I left myself behind in order to maintain harmony, avoid discomfort, or be “easygoing.”

I share all of this because what I’m learning feels like coming home.

It’s enlivening a part of me that has always been there.

A part that I’m guessing lives in you, too.

Your experience matters.
How someone makes you feel matters.
What they notice, or fail to notice, matters.
The space between you matters.

The next time your body tells you something about the relational field between you and another person, I hope you're able to listen to it instead of overriding it to "not make waves."

I believe your body.

With love,
Stacy

PS. If shifting away from accommodation and “going with the flow” is something you’re longing for, I’d love for you to check out Courage Quest, an upcoming retreat for a small number of women that I’m co-leading in Moab, Utah. Four days of expansive red rocks, meaningful conversations around the campfire, and a sky overflowing with stars. We have 3 spots left!