Haven’t we all teetered with embarrassing lack of poise, and once in a while, wiped out and crushed cold, flowing disoriented with enormous breaking waves? Salt in your mouth, flattened, wet hair almost grossly seaweed-like, one segment patching your left eye from outward visibility, and then your swimsuit twisted around your body as your hands rapidly scurry to identify the points of discomfort to return it back into original bodily fit. Quite likely, we’ve all been there – the teetering and toppling.
But hey, you. You swam back up with a silly grin on your face. Brushed off that sticky patch of sand on your shoulders and lay there at the edge of this moving liquid membrane, water brushing in, out, in, clash, out...bubbles gently popping against your ribs and sunlight shining through your closed eyelids, soothing for those salty eyes, emotions all a bit ethereal - exhale. Pace slowed, tempo dropped, then drifting. Plop. Plop.
Pour. When did it get so cold and where did all the people go? You should run. I should run.
And that's how it is. Across our lifespan, it’s this game of long-term patience we play, marked by momentum gained at our troughs, inertia disturbed at life’s flattest and highest of plateaus, and then our brains doing this benchmark evaluation to find our original, or different yet, transferred centre of gravity, which eventually lead each of us down the path of cyclical contemplation of what really matters. So we are back at making decisions for ourselves, at these inflection points, to continue our lives with an accumulating (or maybe a shrinking) basket of A, B, and/or C-grade options. As you pick them up, just don't forget...run, but slow down; tumble, but emerge again smiling; drift away into your secret place, but wake up with full force to run again.