I think we can all relate to the feeling of swimming upstream.
With every muscle tense and engaged, we strenuously stroke against the forceful waters that unrelentingly push against us. No matter how tenaciously we fight the current, it continues to wear us down.
Confronting a litany of limitations in the shift from linear to circular, I’ve certainly felt kindred with my mental image of a fish swimming upstream. In the work of systems change, the current of economic and political structures, misaligned incentives, cultural context and competing priorities is strong. Anyone working in the field of sustainability will tell you that pushing against these forces is not for the faint of heart. We fight the current, occasionally flounder and keep on moving upstream. It’s a hard job.
But have you ever actually watched a fish swim upstream?
Last week, I had the bizarre and satisfying experience of observing dozens upon dozens of salmon in their swim against the current. And let me tell you, it was nothing like I’d expected.
For one, it isn’t a constant struggle. Once I got over the cartoonish juxtaposition of magnificent, fully-grown coho salmon bigger than my thigh making their way up a stream ranging in depth from inches to feet, I noticed the meandering nature of their path.
Sure, there’s the iconic moment that a fish will valiantly thrust its body over waterfalls, boulders, logs and other obstacles gilded in white water in order to reach higher waters. But there are many more moments of slowness, swirling among fellow travelers in calm pools for extended periods.
Some sections of the stream could be quickly and easily traversed. Others required numerous, occasionally hilarious, attempts. A fish would boldly leap over a rock only to smack directly into the stone’s face and bounce back into the water below; another would spend minutes swimming up an eventual dead-end only to have to retreat and try a different path; many would tirelessly tousle up narrow straits shallower than their gills to circumvent other insurmountable barriers.
In the work of systems change, the current of economic and political structures, misaligned incentives, cultural context and competing priorities is strong.
I watched dozens of salmon muscle through intense stretches of rough water, be overtaken by the current and pushed 20 feet backward into a familiar pool, and then immediately begin their swim back up the stream.
As I observed the spectacle of salmon, I wondered how it was possible for the fish — my supposed kindred spirits — to appear neither discouraged nor exhausted by the journey.
It turns out, swimming upstream may be easier than it looks if you’re a salmon.
In fact, some fish actually use less energy when swimming upstream against a current than they do going downstream with it. Like a sailboat tacking upwind, these fish are able to ride the turbulent eddies of a stream, capitalizing on the water’s forceful energy to move forward. Instead of swimming normally as they would through placid waters, the fish relax, riding the slaloms from side to side without using their primary swimming muscles. The river does much of the work.
So rather than finding solace in the shared struggle of a salmon’s counter-current swim, we may be better off taking a cue from these strategic swimmers as they work smarter, not harder.
And if that doesn’t help, I think we can all benefit from a few more mindful moments of observing a salmon, centipede or seagull in nature. To breathe deeply and reconnect before we jump back into the current and continue our swim upstream.
Source: GreenBiz
