In the Water

It's been a while since I have written here.  As of late, I have been thinking about the different voices I use when communicating on social media.  I am aware that I have adopted at least one that is different from my real voice.  It's odd to notice this as it was unintentional.  I think this voice tries to be more accessible, a little lighter than my real voice.  I'm not sure I like it.  I think it was a reaction to feeling like my intensity might deter some people.  I hope to resume writing from a more confident, straight-forward lizroncka voice.  However, I also accept that sometimes we change whether we like it or not.  Sometimes we need a little more cushion, more buffer, more protection and so we shift to continue in more comfortable or sustainable way.  Perhaps forcefully trying to speak from a voice I had before is not possible.  Perhaps that voice is not available to you or me at this time.  Perhaps simply bringing awareness to this observation is enough to elicit change.... in me, in you.  But this is not what I sat down to write about except that I did.  And now this:


This morning as I was speed-scrolling through Facebook, I saw a photo of a shoreline.  This led me to thinking about the ocean.  On Sunday mornings, it's very common for me to ponder "life".  It's usually the only day I do not go to work and have time to just sit and let my mind wander.  Living alone and being single also affords me some very open, peaceful time to sit with my questions and ideas.  Today I was thinking about how life is very much like being in the ocean, yet our sensibilities and our way of experiencing each is often quite different.  I suppose it is from my movement practices that I am very aware of the power of imagery and analogy in shifting how one moves/behaves/experiences a situation.  Thus reflecting on life as being in the ocean offered me some insight.

We are in life just as when we are in the water.  We are submerged, surrounded, enveloped.  It moves us and we move it.  When we move through the water with intention, it is also moving us, shifting us slightly, or even powerfully, from the direction we were headed.  We know this. We compensate.  We tune in.  We know it is inevitable, that the tide is moving us.

In the ocean, we are not in charge and we know it. We are constantly navigating and negotiating, aware of the power of the water.  It continues to move us.  Even when we let go and float or sink, it moves us.  When we stop trying to move, we move anyway.

This is true in life too.  We may think we have stopped.  We are doing nothing, but it is not true.  Our mere existence is causing movement, change, action.  Even if we just lay in bed.  Somewhere something is happening, whether a thought, an action, conscious or unconscious, something is happening because we are there in that bed.

In the ocean, things float by.  They float to us and away.  They come and go easily, moved by the water.  It's almost impossible to hold onto something in the water.  In the water, the different physical nature of things becomes incredible apparent.  You float and move smoothly, your clothes get heavy and cling, dragging you down.  Another body floats and moves differently in the water.  No two things behave the same way in water.  So true in life as well.

And in life and the ocean, the vastness is inconceivable.  What is creeping along the ocean floor, 100 years old, just a few feet below your twinkly little toes?  You'll never know.  What will float by you later today?

And when you get out of the water, the water you displaced moves and causes a change.  Your absence matters.