Floating

October 3, 2006

Dawg joined us in the living room tonight (we should probably give him a change of scenery more often). After darting to and fro taking in his new surroundings, he has been floating calmly in the water. Sometimes I think he’s sleeping, but then it turns out we’re having a staring contest and he loses when my face gets too close (ha!).

I’m a little mesmorized by his floating. In some ways I feel sorry for him, I always have, life seems so small inside our little fishbowl. I selfishly like having him here, but wonder if I should find a way to release him in the wilderness (though I’m not sure the water outside is very safe). But, in lots of ways, I find myself identifying with him tonight. I feel a little bit like I’m floating through life right now.

Nothing is all that difficult at the moment, and when it threatens to be I’ve found good defense mechanisms, and nothing is all that exciting. I pass through the days completing what needs to be done and enjoying myself, but one day blends into the next separated only by the specific items on the to-do list each day.

I’ve always loved floating. It took my anxious little self a long time to learn how - I drowned a lot those first few swim lessons when you just had to be still - I liked to kick and couldn’t understand the concept that doing nothing would be enough. But now it is one of my favorite sensations, especially in the ocean where the waves and currents carry you. It feels a lot like being rocked. Calming. Yet it feels like a strange way to move through life. Perhaps this is the swimming lesson for life - learning to be still and that sometimes doing nothing is enough.

Posted in reflections by Sarah