Seeking Buoyancy...

Things feel dark and scary.

The internet is especially heinous right now.

I can’t seem to look away but when I look I just feel like I am further going under.

This isn’t new.

It has been happening forever.

It is always a new outrage about an ancient problem.

There is fomenting.

And rage.

And solidarity.

And change does come...

But slowly, almost imperceptibly 

And never enough to alter the course of psyches and lives

Sometimes it feels like we are collectively drowning and we keep doing this because we keep insisting a mirage is dry land.

It is hard for me to find my life vest.

To find buoyancy as the Kelvin waves increases the alarming tide

It isn’t a tsunami, or is it?

Is the rising tide going to carve out everything in its path?

Or shall this just be an ever increasing tidal surge that alters us just enough so we do not have to change?

I went to a floating sound bath on Friday.

I was invited and it was all I could think to do with all the sadness and outrage and fear I have right now.

I got into the pool and floated until I had some other feeling.

I wish I could say the effects were more permanent and lasting.

I guess that is the thing about floating and living...

Buoyancy is not a permanent state.

It fluctuates.

I am not able to perceive all I am floating above without placing myself in peril.

I can struggle against the tide.

Or I can float within it.

Trusting that my fate is determined.

Change does come.

Hurts do heal.

Wounds do become healing.

I found some buoyancy in the pool.

A temporary uplift for my sagging feelings.

A temporary belief that everything will be ok.

This is all unfolding for a reason.

That we will survive as a society, as a species, as women.

Then I returned to the internet and it was as if that buoyancy was punctured

Deflated, slowing leaking air...and I could feel my life vest slipping.

It feels almost like too much and not enough all at once.

I feel scared of what I have added to the conversation.

I feel vulnerable and so very lost in all the tidal surges of pain, loss and anguish swirling.

So I close my eyes and return to the pool.

Floating.

Eyes turned upwards.

As I watch the birds, airborne soaring past.

And I wonder if instead of buoyancy I should be seeking wings, flight.

But I do not know how to fly.

All I have is the float.

Until some other feeling lands.

Or I give over this desperate aching hurt to the forever increasing tide...

Again, still...