like a ship at bay

Driving through old parts of towns I once knew so well, seeing the water fall off on the horizon, setting sun, mile markers and speed signs buzzing by my tired eyes. That water looks so peaceful, so safe, small chopping at each other with invisible teeth, but I know the truth, that once you get in over your head it's dangerous business.

There is an old picture of me with my dad at the beach, first time in the water, super white kid in old clothes touching the tiniest film of the ocean on my little toes (how do our toes get so big?!) and I have this expression of utter joy. The first time feeling water like that, but not understanding the ocean in front of me. And for the longest time I'd only skimboard right at the beach, fearing the deeper waters, the dark blue, the inability to touch the ocean floor. It was a downright fear. But I thought being a kid born on a farm just being at the beach was something special. I made my own box, and it was tidy and easy and consisted of low waves and bodysurfing. When I got older I got into swimming, for real swimming, seeing how far I could stretch myself. I was at the beach and made it to the second jetty, and on my way back I saw fins, small fins, pointed at the ends, and I knew they were not dolphins. I was terrified, my breathing no longer at peace, every inch of me wanting to be on that shore, back to what I felt was normal and right and good. But in those terrifying second of catching the tide back, I felt this amazing fear and rush that meant that I was alive.

And I think that is a great thing to have, and to hold on to. If I never swim anywhere pass what I find is safe, then I would never have found that place inside of me. And everyone will always say if Columbus did not brave the idea that the world is not flat, then modern history would be all together different. So it's good to embrace those waves, embrace the chill of something new, of not going back. Of pushing forward, of knowing there might be something out there. We were made like ships at bay. And maybe we might all crash anyway, but maybe not. And that risk, that chance, that try, is all we should try.

So I think about this as we drive over calm seas, or calm as far as I can see. But out there somewhere a storm is raging, and the seas are swelling, and boats are rocking, and people are feeling alive. G-d it feels good to feel that way again. To throw off every normal thought and box I've had and just go for it. Logic is a great thing, and it can take you places, but it is no substitute for the heart and for hard work.

So here I am, in my swim trunks that are a tad bit too short, and the water is cold and looks lifeless with a blank stare at this little pale kid who wants to see what is out there. But this time there is no fear, there is no shore, there is no water. There is just me, standing, facing, and not quitting. There is everyone, we have the opportunity to really try. To not settle, to not fade away into something we don't wanna be. All it takes is the first step.

Baby steps.