When the Goal Gets in the Way
Last week, I wrote about trust—how the water meets us when we show up, just as we are. How learning to trust might be the most powerful thing we can do.
This week, something happened in a lesson that reminded me how easily trust slips—not from fear, but from something more subtle.
I was working with a 6-year-old who had just discovered he could push off from one wall, arms in streamline, eyes on the bottom, and glide all the way across the short side of the pool—all by himself.
He discovered that the water held him up.
Seeing his confidence surge and ready to build on it, I asked him to do it four more times.
On the first, he was still riding the wave of excitement. Smooth. Confident. Arms in streamline, eyes on the bottom.
On the second, he peeked up—looking for the wall, causing his legs to sink a bit.
On the third, he added in a bicycle kick we’d spent most of the lesson letting go of.
By the fourth, he made it. But it took much more effort than the initial ease he discovered.
He was proud of himself, I was too.
Yet as I watched him celebrate, I couldn’t help noticing how quickly all the skills we had been working on slipped away—not because he was scared, but because I had unknowingly shifted the focus.
I gave him a number: four.
And just like that, it became about getting to the other side.
I saw it happen right in front of me. The joyful discovery turned into performance. He moved from being in the experience to trying to finish the task.
Which made me wonder: How often in our own lives do we leave presence because we’ve internalized a finish line?
When I look back at moments where I’ve lost my rhythm—where I’ve started forcing, overcorrecting, working harder instead of wiser—I wonder, is it fear? Or the silent weight of an arbitrary goal?
A box to check.
A number to hit.
A “should”.
And when I’m fixated on that? I forget the things that got me here in the first place.
The rhythm.
The breath.
The trust.
What about you? When are you counting laps and pulling yourself out of the moment?
Hit reply—I’d love to hear what comes up for you.
Shannon
