FLOW
OR: Why a Kitty in a Flood MATTERS on Father’s Day 2025
By David E McCarty, MD FAASM (but you can call me Dave)
15 June 2025
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“Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.”
— Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, Section 1 (1856)
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Family Re-Union
A couple of nights ago, in one of those rare spontaneous moments of cohesion that families with adult children have, we watched the film FLOW together. It was almost all of us, like the old days. Me, Emma, Jac, draped in repose across our basement sofa, awash in TV light, dogs snoring at our feet. The only one missing was my younger, Io, who came home just yesterday.
For a moment, our “empty nest” is full again.
Such circumstances lead to contemplation.
FLOW is an odd film about a wordless world where animals navigate a landscape long since abandoned by humans. There were no lines of dialogue, no exposition, no clear answers. Just floods, friendship, loss, and glimmers of companionship in the ruins.
And one coincidence after another.
It was a soft film, strange and slow, a film where even the peril was calming and beautiful. It left a mark, delicate and scented, like a stain from a flower on a linen shirt.
In the dark, I looked over at Em…at Jac…not to explain anything, just to witness them…witnessing. And something in my chest cracked open a little--not because I understood what the film meant, but because it felt so much like…well…everything…the work Ellen and I have been doing with the Empowered Sleep Apnea project, the co-creation going on with the new REBIS clinical project…and in the daily, nonlinear rhythms of being a father.
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The Incredible Journey
In FLOW, the world has changed. The humans are gone, their buildings drowned, their language vanished. What remains are the animals—and their capacity to adapt. A kitten sets off, uncertain and unguarded, into a flood-ridden world. Along the way, it meets a joyful golden retriever, a zen-like capybara, a kleptomaniacal lemur, and a fearsome yet ultimately selfless secretary bird. Nothing is explained. Nothing is fixed. Nothing is ever finished. But everything is felt.
That’s complexity, folks, plain and simple. It emerges as it emerges. It follows no set course.
It is what it is, and that’s what it always will be!
Well, ya know what? That’s clinical work, Life-Fans! That’s parenting, too, come to think of it.
As you might expect, the film gave me no solutions—it felt like more of a mirror…a quiet reminder that the work isn’t to control the flood, it’s to navigate it. Gently. Receptively. Collaboratively. That’s what we teach with the Empowered Sleep Apnea project. That’s what we’re doing at REBIS. We’re not stamping out “Sleep Apnea” like it was a fire and our boots are the only answer. Instead, we’re walking with people—slowly, shoulder to shoulder—through the overgrowth, the ambiguity, the mystery of their physiology.
We don’t bring certainty. We guide toward discovery.
Flow.
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What Father’s Day Means to Me
Today is Father’s Day.
For many, that means a beast on the grill, a beer or three in the tummy, and a day “off.”
I’ve done that version--it’s fine. Today, though, I’ve got a different lens. Maybe it’s because of that transcendent scene where the kitty and the secretary bird witness eternity from The Tallest Tower. [No spoilers, but…WOW!] Point is, this year, Father’s Day means something different to me. It’s not about doing what I want. It’s about remembering why being a father means so much in the first place.
It’s about rejoicing in their joy. Our kids’ delight, their curiosity, their resilience in a chaotic world—they are the protagonists.
My father, Terry “The Ter-Bear” McCarty, transitioned from his Tall Tower last November, making this the first Father’s Day I hug a memory instead of my Dad.
“Dave,” The Ter-Bear said to an 8-year-old me on a camping trip to Yosemite, “if you fall into the river, don’t fight it, it’s too powerful…if you fall in, point your feet downstream to fend off the rocks and stuff…then you can enjoy the ride until you get to a calmer part of the river, and you can climb out.”
Well, let’s just say, it happened just as he said, and it was a blast!
Over the years, I’ve shortened The Ter-Bear’s sagacity to: “if you fall in the river, point your feet downstream and smile.”
We can’t ride the river for them. We just get to witness. To guide sometimes. But mostly to receive them.
And that only works if our hearts are open. Receptive. Not trying to impose structure on the moment but responding in real time to what emerges.
That, too, is complexity in motion.
And we’re all in the river.
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The cartoon I made for The Ter Bear for Father’s Day, 2022 :)
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FLOODS and REBIS and FATHERHOOD
I realized the other night—watching that kitten reach the top of that ruined tower beside that magnificent bird, watching the wind carry our band of misfit friends past broken monuments and glowing thresholds—that what we’re building at REBIS is a similar story—we help folks navigate a world that sometimes makes little sense, the boat that appears when needed, a conveyance to safety as the waters rise.
It all fits pretty neatly as a description for parenting, too, come to think of it.
It’s about creating space for others to grow into their wisdom, into their light, to make sense of their story on their terms. It requires a willingness to walk with people we don’t fully understand, a reverence for the stories they carry, and a faith that the path will appear as we walk it together.
Not because we’re in charge. But because we care enough to listen, to nurture, and to guide.
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The Receptive Heart
In Flow, the kitten survives not through strength, but through attunement. She pays attention. She forms bonds. She lets go when she must, climbs higher when she can. And at the top of the tallest tower, she doesn’t demand revelation. She just witnesses.
That’s what this Father’s Day is for me: Not dominance. Not escape. Not clarity.
Just the privilege of witnessing my children—
…and this strange, beautiful work we’re doing—
…with a heart that’s open.
Point your feet downstream and smile!
Happy Father’s Day, Life-Fans!
Kind mojo,
Dave
David E McCarty MD, FAASM
Boulder CO
15 June 2025