Monday, November 9, 2009

Holding My Breath




Another Monday morning, and I lay in bed for nearly an hour before rolling out. Yay, fight team fight! But, I'm still holding my breath, waiting to see if I will sink or swim, today.

No water-wings for the day-to-day swimming in life. Take a big gulp of the today and dive right into it. So much to do, so little time. A minute, an hour, a week, the amount of breath that can be used is impossible to gage. Just start kicking toward surface. The closer, the easier it is to swim. Head above water, means all the difference.

Surface and shallow are not the same. Shallow is the place I lie awake determining if the day is warm or cold to me. Rolled up warm and dry, between dark and light, aiming for normalcy. The place where the decision is made to take part or not.

Surface is where you seek to let go, and gather, another breath before diving deeper. The barrier between dry and wet that let's me know I'm alive with a rush of sight and sound. The surface can be seen from above or below. Above, it reflects the light and gives a murky vision of the underneath. Below, it let's the light through, shows a reflection of lower down, as well as a blurry look at the dry side of life.

Today, I can swim in the deep end. I must remember to keep my eyes open, so I don't run into the sides of the pool.

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