April 12, 2021

Between the waves

Below the blue sky

Above the roiling earth

Where the seaweed resides

And time gets quiet for a spell

I dance

I rock

I roll

Between and over the waves

Saltwater splashes in, I cough, I pause, I look out at a sea of glistening diamonds and astounding beauty—of mountains of snow and mountains of water and whitewater and white caps —one in the same, of the same

And wind—

The waves keep crossing over and through me, my arms working to keep a steady beat, find me a space for air

I keep breathing

The next wave may be bigger, or maybe not

Nevertheless and in spite of and because I am made of water and air and light,

I will keep floating.

Floating is all I know.

The waves will keep coming, today they crash in and down around me, rocking me fiercely but easing up just enough to let me catch my breath—

So I keep breathing and look towards the light dancing across the water

It’s all I know how to do—

Breathe and float and rock through the next wave, reminding myself over and over again that to live fully is to move with the waves, and here, in the sea is a good place to practice that fine art of acceptance—

powerless to stop the waves from coming, or shape them to a size or design we think is fitting to our life we have nothing to do but ride them—

Every. Single. One.

I can hope or wish or pray or endlessly will the waves to melt away, and give me still water where I might catch my breath—but that might not be what they have in store. The next one might be a tsunami for all I know, or a mere ripple, brought on by a single rain drop.

What do I gain from imagining the worst other than living through the worst twice if it does come to pass? I could just as well imagine the best and have it come to pass and live it twice. But then the sweetness would be dulled and the magic and mystery of each shining glorious fleeting moment would be diminished.

Best to live each moment once, ride each wave fully awake and know that just as sure as it is here, it too, shall fade away —leaving only water and memory behind.

Tomorrow will come with or without me, and even were I to die tomorrow, I would float and the waves would rock me

For floating is what we do, and sometimes that is enough

To float is to breathe is to feel is to love is to swim is to rock is to hold is to be held is to protect is to dream is to live is to float

And maybe it’s all just a dream

Still, the saltwater is nice. And spring has arrived. And my feet are bare. And the water and waves keep calling me back.