When young, we want to dive into everything. But as we age, we surrender more than dive, and so feel the magic of the wind along the way.
When Young I Dove
When young I dove to the bottom of the
sea. Now I know there is no bottom. Time
after time, impaled by falling into life or
cut by the fear and envy of others, I was
certain I would never recover. But here I
am, strong as an oak that has outlived the
war. In the knots that have healed, the
most beautiful grain. It’s taken sixty years
but where I sought to dive I’ve settled into
slowly, year after year, into a bedrock of
being. It’s tender here. The simplest curl
of wind holds the amazement of everyone
who ever climbed into the open, surprised
at what they saw. Like everyone before me,
I’m not ready to go. Nothing’s wrong. I’m
not ill or out of sorts. I simply realize that
the brilliant orange leaf about to die is
looking at me as if I am full of color. I so
love being here. I think this is what it sees.
A Question to Walk With: In conversation with a friend or a loved one, describe a time you dove into experience and what that taught you. Then describe a time you fell into experience and what that taught you.