Under the Gowanus
I’ve been thinking a lot about water these days—literally and metaphorically—as I sift through some of the confusion and chaos of these times.
How can I gain more clarity? How can I be both supple and strong?
I am finding water has a lot to teach me.
I moved back to Brooklyn during the early part of the pandemic and ended up living on the Gowanus Canal. To say that I love this body of water is an understatement, and one that might seem odd to fellow New Yorkers. The Gowanus Canal is a superfund site (not to be confused with a super-fun site), which means it is one of the most toxic places in the United States.
Built in the mid-1800’s, the canal was a major industrial transportation route for manufactured gas plants, paper mills, tanneries, and chemical plants, all of which dumped waste directly into the canal.
The climate crisis has fueled further contamination of the canal. During severe storms, for example, overflows from the sewer system end up in the canal. In short, it is not a body of water that you want to fall into.
And yet, in spite of its contamination, the canal has always held such allure for me.
One day I had the chance to meet a local urban planner and cartographer, Eymund Diegel, who has mapped the canal’s old waterways and much of its history. Eymund also discovered, and has continued to track, natural springs that sit under the canal. He took me out canoeing on the Gowanus and on a tour of some old buildings along the canal where natural spring water was bubbling up through the floorboards.
This is what I love about the Gowanus: the both/and of it. Seeing, smelling, and touching the natural spring water was awe-inspiring. It felt like a cutting through. Like resistance.
While the existence of those natural springs doesn’t negate the pollution of the canal, it is a reminder to me that clarity is available even amidst the muck. Both are real.
Practice
Recently I’ve been drawing on the nature of water metaphorically to inspire practices that support clarity, ranging from training on the meditation cushion to training in martial arts.
Sometimes my water practice looks like resting or feeling buoyed by water. Sometimes it looks like meditating with the flow of water, or its clear qualities. My dear friend and colleague, Monika Son, an educator and practitioner, introduced me to a mirror-practice, passed along to her through her Zen tradition, in which one meditates in front of a mirror (or camera phone), and inquires into their own nature. What is seen? What is here? What is really here, beyond the surface layer of story, explanation, analysis? Questions become a mantra. A koan. A guide for interacting with others in my day to day life.
What are the water-inspired practices that are helping you navigate these times? And do you have your own Gowanus Canal story—a place or metaphor for being with the both/and+? We’d love to learn more. Leave us a note, and if you’ve got more to share, consider submitting an essay for our upcoming special issue of The Arrow, Like Water.
Monika and I led a retreat on water at our community house in Brooklyn last fall, during which we explored martial-style practices, guided meditations, and group reflections. We’ve got another workshop, Like Fire, scheduled for Saturday, February 8th in Brooklyn. More here.
You can learn about other upcoming events with Courage and The Arrow here.
-Brooke Lavelle
P.S. We’re on substack now! Working to bring our Arrow and Courage communities together for more learning and practice. Excited for you to join us.