Wikipedia tells me this:

“Ecosystems are functional units consisting of living things in a given area, non-living chemical and physical factors of their environment, linked together through through nutrient cycle and energy flow.”

I like that. And I like to think about my own system of support as a support ecosystem instead of simply a support system.

When I conjure up the image of a support system, I picture a pyramid of spheres, at the top of which is me. The spheres hold me up as long as they all stay in place, but if one falls out, we all just kind of topple to the ground, like a sad pile of oranges in the grocery store.

But when I conjure up the image of an ecosystem, I start to feel all warm and fuzzy. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of rainy days sitting in elementary school Science in the Pacific Northwest, but I immediately think of ferns and clouds and mud and streams and worms and rich, woody earth.

An ecosystem is not a static thing. An ecosystem is alive, constantly in flux and constantly balancing itself. When I think of myself within an ecosystem, I’m able to realize the ways in which I contribute to my own ecosystem, instead of just depending on a support system in my times of need. In the support system model, I feel a little bit helpless, like I’m delicate and at the mercy of everything holding me up.

When I shift to thinking of myself as one creature within a support ecosystem, I feel powerful and complex. I recognize the various processes that hold me up when I’m drooping. If I’m having trouble with my eating, I have my community of recovery to encourage me. If my health is lagging, I have a trusted acupuncturist, nutritionist, therapist and doctor to call. If I need a shoulder to cry on, I have my partner and my family and a community of close friends and confidants.

Another glorious thing about recognizing that I’m within an ecosystem (instead of just a me-centric support system) is that the ecosystem model recognizes that I’m interconnected and interdependent. Ideally, the other creatures in my ecosystem benefit from my existence, too. My community of eating supporters also benefits from my learning and my support when I’m able to give it. My acupuncturist benefits from the fee I pay for her service, and from the several new clients I’ve now referred to her. Same with my nutritionist, therapist and doctor: I give them testimonials to help them bring in more clients who are right for them. And, of course, I’m always referring friends and family. Finally, when my friends and family need help from me, I give it to them as I’m able.

The support ecosystem is generative. It keeps going and going, and the elements in it get repurposed as they move through. My colleague teaches me a trick that I use in my business to benefit a client. I hone the use of that trick, and I pass on my knowledge to another friend once I’ve mastered it. Now that friend can use that trick for herself and pass it on to others. Someday, it might even come back to me in a completely different (and improved) form.

Because I recognize that I contribute to my ecosystem, I actually utilize it. With the less-interconnected support system model, I might feel guilty reaching out to a friend at the end of a bad day. When I recognize that I’m part of the ecosystem, I reach out without guilt. I know that I’m giving my friend a gift when I lean on her: I’m letting her know that she’s important to me, and that I trust her. I’m establishing a bond, letting her know (without even saying so) that we can talk to each other honestly. I’m sharing with her my innermost thoughts that not everybody gets to hear. Someday, she might recall our conversation when she’s having her own bad day and remember that she’s not the only one who sometimes feels awful.

To my mind, the ecosystem model is better for everybody. Within it, I’m a necessary piece, but I’m not the center. My existence and active participation benefit others, and I simultaneously reap the benefits of interaction with other creatures and objects in my habitat.

When you think of yourself as one creature within a complex ecosystem, do you feel differently about reaching out for help? In what ways have you contributed to (or benefited from) your ecosystem (which very well might include the Effervescence community) recently?