water off a duck’s back
BY DONDI VOIGT PERSYN
I was once given three ducks at an interesting time in my life. I was hosting a week-long dance retreat at my home. The workshop was filled with movement, internal work, and discovery. Just days before it began, my landscapers showed up with three ducks. I hadn’t planned for them, but there they were, waddling into my life just as I was diving deep into my own emotions and transformation.
During that retreat, I learned about fluidity—how to move through challenges, how to release what no longer served me. In the midst of it all, I bonded with those ducks. They became part of my morning prayer, my time with God. They lived in my garden, adjusting to their new space, no longer confined but free to roam. It took them time to find their way—to understand the pond was theirs, to learn how to climb the ramp, to trust the space they had been given. But once they did, it was beautiful to watch them in their element. They would dive deep into the mud, disappear beneath the water, and then rise, waddling off as if untouched by the mess they had just been in.
In shamanic traditions, animals are more than just creatures; they are messengers. Each carries a lesson, a form of medicine for those willing to observe.
Ducks, in particular, move between three realms—water, land, and sky—reminding us how to navigate different spaces in life with grace.
They teach us we can dive into the depths of our experiences without being weighed down by them.
Ducks are both messy and pristine. They forage in the mud, their beaks submerged in the thickest parts of the earth, yet their waterproof feathers allow them to emerge clean, the water rolling off their backs. They do not resist the dirt, nor do they let it cling to them. They accept both states—the mess and the renewal—as natural parts of life. How often do we let the weight of the world seep into us? How often do we hold onto burdens that were never meant to stay? Ducks remind us that we can immerse ourselves in life—its struggles, its uncertainties—but we do not have to carry it all with us.
The lesson the duck teaches us is not to avoid life’s depths but to navigate them and emerge with grace.That is their medicine—to remind us that it is okay to go deep, to get a little messy, to feel everything fully. But when we rise, we must remember to shake it off and keep moving.
The mud may cover, the water may rise, but neither were meant to stay. Let it roll away like rain off a feathered back.
