Learning to Float

I had a dream I had to travel somewhere very far – light years, by sea. It was a “Contact” sort of contraption like an anti-gravity lounger of a very simple design. It propelled itself forward creating virtually no wake in the not too cold just right jello-y liquid that enveloped me like amniotic fluid, soothed me and held me afloat BUT only if I relaxed and completely trusted my head would not go under.

I was feeling really secure and began to realize that it was night. The stars were out and the sky melted into the horizon where the light twinkled just as bright off an endless vista of waves and particles and it was AMAaaaaaazing.

Then I realized that with all that space above me, there would be all that space below me too and I began to feel like something would come up from down there and bite me in the back or take my head off.

With this, my machine began to fail. I was no longer moving forward and was slowly beginning to sink deeper up to my chin in the thick water. Too thick to swim. I remembered someone saying to me, it is VERY important to let yourself FLOAT. If you get into trouble, just relax and breathe. You will be buoyed by the sea.

So, I try to relax and figure well if the thing comes and bites me in the back then what?

Then what?

Basically it was extremely dramatic and horrific and it seemed like it would never end and then it did.

This picture was taken only a couple days after I learned how many different ways there are to die by water—and suffered through one of them. One could say it was a “near death” experience though I was never “near” actually dying only really close to almost having the thing that could possibly cause death if not properly treated. The pain was enough to prove a point.

I’m fine now. Really. It’s like nothing ever happened. Like childbirth (so I hear), but in my skull and without the gift at the end. It hurt so incredibly f&^%$g bad, at the height of the pain I was actually smiling because I thought well, this must be the part where I die and it will be over. I remember feeling a bit excited about finding out what comes next but also feeling a little weary like wow, I hope it’s not anything too strenuous at the moment I could use a rest! The fever was pretty high that day. Combine this with the fact that everyone knows crying only makes headaches worse I only sobbed uncontrollably a few times before reeling it in tight and going inside until I was so exhausted I passed out for a while.

Today it is only a memory and not even a significantly “bad” memory. I’m learning how not to question its significance because I know that once a disease manifests itself like that, the spiritual root of the problem has already been resolved. I’m practicing being thankful that my body is so efficient at ridding itself of what it does not need.

To be a skillful swimmer is of practical value for obvious reasons. It’s a conscious act that makes us feel we are in control of our lives. To be able to float is an under-valued art I’m grateful to have the opportunity to practice on a daily basis.

If this sounds all too lofty and poetic, try thinking of it this way. You can kick and scream and flail about or you can move your arms in a rhythmic pattern designed to propel you forward. Either way, you are expending energy that could otherwise be used in a different manner to solve a problem or to heal an illness or to simply move ahead in time/space/evolution.

There is a beautiful, beautiful song by one of my fave gal rockers called, “We Float“. The lyrics pretty much sum it up.

It’s kind of about that and kind of about something all-together different. In any case it’s good to be back among the living. There is something the people in my town tell me when I seem to be trying just a bit too hard to find the words to communicate with them and it always makes me feel better to hear it. It means basically, relax and be still. It’s only life after all.

Tranquilo. Pura Vida.

Costacalle