Recently, I was tubing behind a speed boat on one of those big floating contraptions. There were three of us piled into the front end of this plastic chute, gripping onto its handles as we readied. The boat lurched forward and instead of skimming lightly on top of the water as one would expect, the entire raft submerged and went straight down, nose dive into the dark water, taking us with it. Everything slowed down. I learned suddenly and kinesthetically that I cannot breath under water. I wanted to cling to the tube, even as it descended, this thing of safety. But it was going where it was not supposed to go. I let go, water rushed around, and eventually I buoyed past the water surface and back into the light I could breathe.
Sometimes a life raft is something else. Sometimes it’s an underwater subway pulling you into deep water where you cannot breathe. Sometimes you need to let go and trust that your own lightness will lift you.
There have been countless life rafts in my life that have taken a nose dive. Teachings, a person, a joy will suddenly move into dark water. For one reason or many reasons, the raft will become something else. The wind changes. Something tugs. The weight of my growing power is off center and too big…something happens. And the life raft becomes a trap. What once meant safety, security of being able to skim lightly across open water, laughing, becomes heavy and dark and submerged. It happens fast or it happens slow.
I am learning to let go sooner. I am learning that I cannot, in fact, breathe under water. I am learning to trust the light that is growing in me.
Recent Comments