breathe
January 24, 2011 § 1 Comment
Each time I dive into a body of water, I am convinced I am going to drown. Airborne and caught between the concrete and unknown below the water’s surface I am enveloped in panic and terror. Within seconds of submersion I sputter gracelessly, fighting to surface, choking on fear and exhilarated to see daylight. My mother lays the burden of this fear at the feet of a relative who threw me into a pool as a toddler and allowed me to struggle under water for instructional purposes. The swim lesson was a singular event, largely recalled through my mother’s eyes. Those feelings however haunt me in moments outside my control and help to give voice to a larger fear… the unknown.
Restless in my relationship with fear I have grown tired of tiptoeing through my days, holding my breath in hesitation. I envy those that seem to bound through their days with heart and energy, exuding confidence and strength; warmth and loyalty; passion and persistence. I gather these spirited personalities close to me and celebrate them. In the warmth of their support I find myself testing the water, fantasizing about the perfect swan dive.
scribblechic 
Not a perfect swan dive, my love. A cannonball!