There are traces of snow on the ground enough for me to bring out the space heater and think of some stuff.
As impossible as it is for me to swim, I find it difficult to save my heart when its drowning in my emotions. You see, I have a lot of feelings. They vary.
About 88% of the time, my heart swims comfortably in the shallow parts of the lagoon. While in there I can feel my body weightless and that’s a good feeling–to not feel. I can pretend to swim. I can stare into the sun or the moon and talk to them about my day while submerged in my fears. If they care to listen. And often times, they talk back by showing off how beautiful they are with a wonderful reflection in the transparent water.
Then there’s that word, pretend.
I can masquerade the fact that swimming on the shallow side is perfectly okay — it’s not. I not only mislead myself, but my heart as well. As a whole, a small portion of my body, can define how the rest of the body portrays itself. Let’s face it, I’m calculating, I play it safe, and I endanger everyone around me with this facade.
Listening to the heart, to what the heart truly wants, is treacherous. However, listening from within is hopeful, endearing, almost reassuring in itself. I find myself asking “when will I ever learn to swim,” and “is it too late to start?” Deep down, in that tiny hole of hope that’s buried underneath all the self pity and despair of my own preconceived notions, lies the answer to those questions.
It’s never to late to save your heart while it’s drowning. It’s never to late to learn new things, to venture out, to discover, or to grow. And lastly, if we can’t rise above the tide of our fears and negative thoughts, then we ought to learn to float. Or at least to have someone help guide us. I’ll help you, if you help me.
