Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Of Life and the Sea




I was eight.  We were on a family outing and mommy was teaching me how to swim.  Both her hands supported my weight as she coaxed me to paddle.  I paddled as hard as I could.  We did this many times till my body ached.  And we did it again in our succeeding beach outings.

When she thought I could do it, mommy did not place her hands under my body lying facedown on the water and just said words of encouragement as I tried to support my weight on my own.  I sank.  But mommy was quick to haul me back into her arms.  She hugged me and tousled my hair to soothe me, all the while whispering words of encouragement.  But I shook my head, scared of again sinking while I struggled, helplessly flailing my hands as salty water made its way into my nose and mouth.

My fear of being in an open water heightened when during one of our beach outings, two teens from a nearby cottage drifted far away into the sea and had to be rescued by a boat.  Their family members were so sick with worry that some even wept as the boat was dispatched to look for them.  Once reunited, the teens said they slept while on a life buoy and woke up to find themselves in the middle of the sea. 

Despite their happy ending of being reunited with their family, their ordeal left an imprint of a great fear of the sea on me.  From then on, I made sure to wade but only waist-deep in the waters.  During outings, my companions who were in the deeper part of the sea would wave their hands invitingly but I would only go as far as to where the waters reached my neck.  And once there was an onslaught of waves, I would hurriedly go back to where the shore was, fearful of being tided over by those waves.

As these memories come to me now when I am faced with a great personal dilemma, I realize how I have been playing safe all along. 

From 2001 to 2005, I waded but only waist-deep in the waters, testing if it suited me.  Then one really big tide of a trial happened in 2005.  Confused, hurt and even angry, I retreated back into the shore and comfortably settled there for years.  I thought I was okay.  I thought I would always be okay there.  That to the shore was where I belong.  But in 2010, the water again beckoned to me.  Scared, I retreated farther back into where the land was but the water time and again called out to me.  I resisted but the more I did, the more I suffered.

And so I summoned all the logic in me to battle with what my heart wanted.  I wanted nothing of the water.  It was dark and deep and endless.  I did not know what awaited me there.  Waves crashed against it.  Anything on it either drifted somewhere else or got drowned.  The shore, meanwhile, remained a bastion of safety.  A haven where the water could only touch but not claim it. 

2011 came.  The water now more loudly called out to me.  I again summoned my logic to rationalize my response but it compromised with my heart by telling me to just wade waist-deep into the water and see how it would go...

I've been waist-deep in the water since and I must say it's something I am getting used to.  It's something I actually prefer but am scared of fully embracing.  I have even told myself that this is the perfect spot because here, I get the best of both worlds.  I am at sea but the shore is just a "swim" away.  If push comes to shove, if a big tide is coming, I can always head back to the shore.

Swim.  Using this word makes me realize that I never did learn how to swim.  And all because I have feared the water.  The water that has been calling out to me for the longest time now.  The water that I am so scared of fully committing myself to for fear of it again hurting me.

But as today's memories make me re-realize my fear of the water, as earlier said, it also makes me realize that if I continue standing on its shallow part, just like I missed learning how to swim, I will also miss what really is in store for me in it.  What I am really called to life to.

Yes, I either have to go back to the shore and stay there for good or risk it all and fully be enveloped in water.

I admit I have reservations.  I still have my fears.  But as André Gide wrote, "Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."

No comments: