Saturday, August 15, 2020

When the water is rough...


Drift and Breathe

“When our days are turbulent and troubled, our challenge is to remember that the wave is not the sea. Though it pounds us, the pounding will pass. Though it tosses us about, the tossing will pass, if we don’t fight it.”
Mark Nepo (The Book of Awakening, p.226)

          I have written before about my lack of love for boats and fishing. That goes especially for salt-water outings on supposedly sea-worthy boats. I recall one trip on a twenty-eight-foot motorboat out of Block Island to fish for tuna. Once we motored out of the protective harbor and into the Atlantic, the boat went straight up the crest of a wave, and crashed down on the other side, and for a moment in the middle of that swell, we were airborne. That rising and crashing continued until we were more than a mile away from land, so that the island was still visible, but only as a dark strip along the horizon. Once into the deep, the waters calmed and the rises and drops diminished, but by then I was what my grandmother referred to as “addlepated.”

          Mark Nepo warns against allowing our fear of this swelling and crashing to keep us close to shore, because the turbulence will dissipate once we reach the deep water. I recall watching fishermen in a Costa Rican village lead their small, wooden boats out beyond the breakers of a raging Pacific to calmer water where they could hoist themselves over the side without being slammed by the cresting waves. They took this risk every single day to feed their families, and not because it was great sport. They knew from experience that once beyond the breakers, they would find calmer water.

          We can take some comfort in that analogy, too. We are struggling through a time of great turbulence—so much is going on that we (at least, I) have trouble keeping up with it. It is difficult enough to deal with the confinement of a pandemic, but a contentious political season on top of it is putting us into the crashing breakers. If we allow fear to hold us back, we will never get past the bone-crunching battering of this present moment. We cannot afford to be addlepated. If we can just drag our little boats past these pounding breakers, we will find smoother water.

To everyone who is trying to survive in this current climate, I encourage you to practice deep belly breathing—calm your fears and allow the turbulence to flow around you. In the words of Mark Nepo, “Breathe slowly and stroke your way past all the distraction. When you feel the swell of life around you, simply drift…”

                                                  In the Spirit,
                                                  Jane

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