
It seems like people want me to live on the surface, caught up in the frenzy of details, most of which are just manufactured in order to promote an unspoken agenda. When I was a kid, we had an in ground swimming pool. I liked to go to the deep end and see how long I could hold my breath. I’m not just saying this to draw an analogy. When I was a junior in high school, I was able to hold my breath longer than any other kid in my school. When we sold that house, we moved to a palm lined West African beach. I swam in the hot springs at Yankari National Park in Bauchi State, Nigeria. The sides of the spring were clay, and when I dug at the sides of it with my fingertips, the water turned milky. I held my breath a long time and stayed hidden in the opaque water until those around me became worried.
This was my intent.
They make so many products to keep kids on the surface. Life jackets, water wings, boogie boards, pool noodles. I understand wanting to keep your kids safe in the water, don’t get me wrong.
My brother shared some videos with me about people who hold their breath for incredible lengths of time, swimming deep in the ocean, with no oxygen tank. They say they are tapping into some latent ability from when our ancestors lived in the sea. And yes, I draw a metaphor here.
I think people want me to live on the surface, where all the splashing and screaming, all the thrashing and drama happens. I want to see how long I can hold my breath, and watch the ribbons of refracted light undulate along the wall of the pool.
I want to find the currents that flow deep down below all that craziness. I know I’ll return to it. To the madness. To the fever, but when I am painting, or writing, or throwing a pot… when I am reading, hiking a river, sitting by a bonfire, or doing anything authentic that nourishes my soul, I just want to hold my spiritual breath and stay there for as long as I can.