When life feels turbulent and starts bumping us around, I sometimes feel like I’m floating on choppy waters and the more I push and struggle, the more water ends up in my face, making it hard to breathe.
When I was a young lifeguard, I would train people to swim and teach them to survive in situations without a lifeline. Contrary to what most people do naturally, this involves complete surrender.
When a riptide is pulling and you can’t overcome its strength, you need to allow the, sometimes-terrifying, pressure and approach the shore from a different angle.
When you’ve exhausted yourself from treading water, your only path to survival is to drown proof - to float; to surrender; to allow. If you can do this (and not everyone can) you will rest long enough to replenish energy stores and live another day.
In cold water there is a technique called HELP which involves curling yourself into a fetal position to preserve heat and energy until rescue arrives. Lately, I’ve needed a HELP position.
As a child, I would sink to the bottom of the pool and sit cross legged for as long as my lungs would permit. Over time, I practiced breath-holding and, as a synchronized swimmer, I became very good at extending my silent serenity in the watery depths.
I think these times are calling for us to pull back from the chaotic surface disruption around us and sink deeper.
Below the surface, in the depths of our soul and the silence of our hearts, there is safety and strength.
When an airplane hits turbulence, the pilot will decide to move to a smoother altitude. She will rise above the disturbed air and find the jet stream.
In both water and air, calm is ultimately achieved through changing perspective – moving away from the chaos, not pushing into it.
These natural, metaphorical, truths of air and water dynamics, satisfy both my logical, thinking brain that needs to understand the Newtonian physics and my empathic, intuitive heart-center that is craving calm to negotiate these times.
As I practice mindfulness with our EWC community, connect with colleagues at Coralus, meditate with my man, and co-create with my power partners, I am reminded that the seat of my soul is safe.
My essence is far enough removed from the wavy waters and turbulent air, that I can hold and soothe her gently, purposefully placing time and space between me and the mess around me.
The turmoil may be a single incident, a continuous undercurrent or the empathic internalization of our hurting humanity.
Whatever it is, whomever has caused it, wherever it resides, I am reassured to know that below the surface, in the depths, there is silence and space to know my Divine and loving self again. From those whispers I can finally hear.
My consciousness continues to believe that, above the disrupted air, there are clear and sunny skies in which we all spread our wings and fly.
When our human world is making it hard to breathe
when you are exhausted
and need reprieve,
go deeper to calm water,
go higher to smooth air,
go somewhere you can listen and love and allow yourself to believe.