Drowning in Inch-Deep Water: The Art of Meeting People Where They Are
"Don't judge a book by its cover" is one of those phrases we all grew up hearing. Having read a few books throughout my life, I've found this advice to be true more often than not.
But now, sitting across from real people in therapy and spiritual direction sessions, this wisdom has taken on entirely new dimensions. As I slowly turn each page of their stories—waiting, watching, and appreciating whatever words emerge—I'm learning that true companionship requires meeting people exactly where they stand.
The Shore Where They Stand
Recently, during a spiritual direction cohort meeting, one of my fellow directors shared his frustration about a directee. He wanted so badly for this person to be in a more stable place, more open to receiving love.
As he spoke, an image formed in my mind: his directee standing on the shoreline. Then words arose in my heart that stopped me cold:
"Some people are standing on the shore but feel like they're drowning in inch-deep water."
The image struck me deeply. For much of my life, I've been conditioned to swim out into the deep, to take risks, to move forward boldly. I've often approached growth—both my own and others'—with this same mentality. Push further. Go deeper. Take the plunge.
But in that moment, everything shifted. What if the most profound act of companionship isn't pulling someone into deeper waters? What if it's standing with them in the place where they already feel overwhelmed?
The Pace of Transformation
Our ability to feel and be present to where we actually are determines the pace at which we can move forward.
Think about walking on a beach. When you step onto wet sand, your foot makes an impression. Each grain shifts and molds around your weight, creating a perfect temporary imprint of exactly where you stood. The sand doesn't resist or rush—it simply responds to your presence.
Water behaves differently. Step into the ocean, and the water parts momentarily before rushing back, leaving no trace that you were ever there. You can't leave a lasting impression in water the way you can in sand.
This is why growth often begins on the shore. Before we can swim in deep waters, we need to stand firmly on solid ground, feeling every grain beneath our feet.
Drowning Together in the Sand
Instead of pulling others into oceanic depths they aren't ready for, what would it look like to "drown together in the sand"? To stand with our toes sinking into the wet shoreline, feeling every grain and detail of our lives exactly as they are?
As we get familiar with where we are—truly present to our current reality without judgment or hurry—we can begin to take the next step, and the next, and the next. Together, side by side with whoever we're walking with.
Eventually, we start walking into the water, then wading.
One of the most transformational moments comes when we put our heads beneath the waves and learn to breathe underwater. The Christian mystics call this drowning in oceanic oneness with the divine. But that moment can't be rushed or forced—it emerges organically from thousands of small steps taken at the right pace.
As Carl McColman wisely notes, "a drop of water is not the same as the ocean, but it is still water.” There is part of the ocean within the wet sand of the shore. Beginning where we are doesn't mean staying there forever—it means honoring the starting point of the journey.
Meeting Clients Where They Are
As I sit with clients in therapy, I continuously fight the temptation to pull them underwater before they're ready. Instead, I try to meet them on the shore where they stand.
I've learned that everyone's definition and experience of "drowning" is different. What feels like ankle-deep water to me might feel like a tsunami to someone else. Their perception is their reality, and my role isn't to correct it but to honor it.
The most important thing isn't how quickly they wade deeper, but that they know someone is there with them in the water—no matter how shallow or deep.
This approach requires tremendous patience and humility. It means setting aside my expectations about how quickly transformation "should" happen. It means trusting the inherent wisdom of each person's unique pace of growth. Most importantly, it means recognizing that genuine companionship isn't about leading someone to where I think they should go—it's about being fully present with them where they already are.
Finding My Own Shore
This insight has led me to look more deeply at my own journey as well. Where am I standing on the shore? Where do I feel like I'm drowning in seemingly shallow waters?
I've tried to become more personal and inward with this metaphor, more clearly understanding my own shores and watery depths. There's comfort in knowing there's another, deeper Source meeting me exactly where I am—not where I wish I were or think I should be.
This Source doesn't rush me or pull me into depths I'm not ready for. It stands patiently with me on whatever shore I find myself, waiting until I'm ready to take the next step forward.
We all have to come up for air now and again, but each time, we learn to go a bit deeper, stay a bit longer, and breathe a bit more naturally.
As Carl Rogers beautifully expressed: "People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don't find myself saying, 'Soften the orange a bit on the right hand corner.' I don't try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds."
May we learn to approach both ourselves and others with this same spirit—not trying to control the unfolding, but standing in humble awe as the journey naturally reveals itself, one grain of sand at a time.
Questions
What shore are you standing on right now?
In what ways do you feel like you're drowning, even if others might see the water as shallow?
Who or what is meeting you to take your hand as you step toward the water?
A Practice for Being Present: a brief meditative practice
Sit and close your eyes. Plant your feet firmly on the ground and gently hold your hands together.
Begin to breathe deeply. As you do, imagine yourself standing on a shore of wet sand. Feel the grains and water, that cool, refreshing feeling of being grounded.
Now, imagine the person you feel safest with and trust the most, kindly taking your hand.
Picture yourselves walking toward the water, slowly. Take your time here and stop if you need to.
As you slowly enter the water, continue to breathe deeply and trust the process.
Remember that you can always go forward, you can always go backward. What matters is that you know where you are.
As you wade in, get comfortable and let the water take you. Fight the fear of control and what will happen if you drown.
Right before your head sinks beneath the waves, tell yourself, "I was made to breathe underwater." Let go and simply be.
This is really helpful right now. As a practitioner oriented toward the deep deep deep, I am learning how to sit on shore and hang with folks where they're at, with no agenda at all.
I love that Carl Rogers quote, so powerful. Great essay!