Being

The Business of Being You Edition: Being

being (noun)

1. the state or fact of existing

2. a living thing

3. the nature or essence of a person

being (verb – present participle of “be”)

1. existing or living

2. occurring; taking place

3. behaving or functioning in a specified way

Lately, I’ve been captivated by a different kind of ambition—one that doesn’t involve scaling ladders or hitting targets. Instead, it’s about being—simply and wholly.

I find myself returning to the shore, letting the waves carry off my last worries while I sit still and watch the seals and sea lions just be—not performing, not rushing, not worried. There’s a kind of power in that, a quiet rhythm. It’s made me want to live more like that too. Not in a rush. Not chasing. Just living the kind of day that doesn’t need a clock or a reason.

This edition is titled Being. Not “being productive,” not “being present” as another task on the list—but just being.

And right in the middle of my own slower, quieter days, I met someone who embodies that concept in the truest sense.

His name is Leonard Clearwater Bracero—a 45-year-old artist born in Seattle, Native American and Filipino. He lives nearby, and I often see him outside, working on wood projects with care and focus. It turns out, he learned to carve as a child on the Makah Reservation right around the way here in Neah Bay, WA.

One of his first memories is learning with a butter knife and a bar of soap, guided by a tribal elder. He also spent hours quietly watching his father carve—an art passed from father to son, generation after generation.

Today, Leonard is continuing that lineage. His current project? A custom rattle, used in ceremonies and celebrations. When not creating custom work, he draws from traditional Native American designs. His tools of choice are handmade, rooted in the materials and practices of the region. And his reason for carving? He says simply, “It gives me peace. It’s something I enjoy. It’s part of who I am.”

He doesn’t do it for likes or validation, he has no social media accounts. He does it because it feels right and he loves what he does. Because it connects him to his culture, his family, and himself. Besides woodworking Leonard is also an accomplished jewelry designer and fine artist.

Speaking to Leonard reminded me of another artist I remember—Ed Lopez, a New Yorker who retired into a van and spent over a decade painting landscapes on paper bags along Tocks Island near the Delaware River. That place was part of my own childhood—quiet summers in a cabin in the woods, no phones, no internet, and no pressure to document life as content. We walked a dirt path to the river to go swimming and fishing, and picked wild strawberries along the way. A much simpler time indeed.

Back then, when someone asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”—they weren’t asking what role you could monetize. They were asking how you wanted to spend your days. What would bring you joy? Peace? Meaning?

And maybe that’s why, in this season of life, I’m returning to those questions. A time in life to look back and reflect on what is truly important.

So I’m choosing a slower rhythm. A smile as my only accessory. I’m letting the clock go and filling my time with what I love, not what I “should” do.

No plan. No performance. No pressure.

Just being.

Til next time.

Marelle Couture