Float

My Grandmother's house was near a lake. In the early years of my childhood, we would swim when we visited, and when I was about nine years old, we moved in with Grandma. So, huge portions of each summer were spent in that lake, splashing and gliding. My sisters and I knew every inch of the lake bed that stretched out in front of the house, knew where it might dip suddenly, where you were likely to cut your foot on a clam shell, or where you could dig up the dark grey clay hiding just beneath the sand. Rain or cold wouldn't stop us from swimming, and when Mom said it was time to get out of the water, it was always too early- no matter how pruny our fingers or how terribly our teeth chattered. The deep green scent and gentle lapping of the waves were a constant presence in my life and continue to invigorate my dreams. To this day, the proximity of a large body of water is like spending time with an old friend, a quiet happiness and comfort that needs no words.

I never learned to swim through a formal class. My form might make professional swimmers cringe, and my technique is surely not the most efficient, but I got all of the basics through trial and error and a few simple lessons from Mom. One of the first things she taught us was how to float. It was a logical place to start. It takes no effort to float, so if you found yourself in deep water, if your muscles were too weary to swim anymore, all you had to do was reach back to this first lesson, relax, and let the water bear you up. If you can float, you can't drown.

Now, since those early days, I've experienced a couple of oceans, one of the Great Lakes, and a few rivers. I fully understand that currents, hungry sharks, frigid temperatures and a number of other factors can affect the outcome of floating as a survival technique. Maybe if I had grown up near a different type of water, I would have been blessed with different lessons, but the reality in our little lake was that floating was a very useful skill. Mom taught me the practical skill of floating, and floating taught me more about life.

While much of the rest of swimming involves control of the water, cutting in or pushing against, the lesson of floating is one of relinquishing control. You fight the water, and you sink. It's only when you let go, lie back, and trust in Mother Nature to cradle you in her arms that the magic happens. There is no power necessary, no struggling, no thought to where you're headed. You just are. Floating is an exercise in faith. There is a certain tranquility in the act, a confidence in the power of the universe. The spirit calms. Sounds of the world are muted by the water. The focus of breath and heartbeat are not strained. I've fallen asleep while floating and lost myself in the bliss of harmony with nature.

Likewise, the lesson of floating applies to the troubles of everyday life. We think that our current crisis will devastate without our immediate and constant action. We worry that we are drowning, and we kick and splash to keep our heads above water. But there is an order to the universe, and all our struggles are small in the face of that power. When you find yourself in deep water, when you're weary from swimming and overwhelmed, relax, lie back and trust in the universe to bear you up. The waves may wash over you, but you will rise to the surface, and the serenity you find in letting go and staring at the sky for a while will give you strength to continue swimming later. Life is a constant pattern of swimming and floating, taking charge and letting go.

Knowing when each is appropriate isn't always easy. I won't say there's never been a time when I stubbornly stamped my foot and refused to go where the currents were guiding me. Still, over the years, I've come to trust and float more, and even when I'm swimming, I try to stay open to the subtle nudges of the universe...

Because, She bears me up when I have no strength left, and She makes good things happen, if I have faith, and if I occasionally let myself float.