The Flow

All it takes is one final wave to crest
before I am plunged into the depths

Sometimes, I find myself gasping for air,
tossed about by waves,
struggling to stay afloat.
I am overwhelmed.
All it takes is one final wave to crest
before I am plunged into the depths
of my psyche,
being pulled to where
the deceptively calm cerulean of the surface
gradates into navy.
It feels as though my ankle is tethered
to the ocean floor by a rope
and that rope is getting shorter,
or perhaps it is being pulled.
If that is true, I don’t want to know
what is doing that pulling,
trying to drag me down to the darkness.
In that time, my lungs burn for lack of air
and I don’t know how to fix it–
I don’t know how to escape–
because I have been spun in every direction,
and there are no landmarks in this deep blue.

That’s when I remember
the trick I was taught about bubbles
and how they always rise
toward the surface,
so I use my last bits of breath
and release it into the water
and notice the path that it takes.
I follow that path.
I rise with those bubbles.
And then I am at the surface again,
weary but alive.

I look back down at where I was,
see the depths beneath me,
reflect on my experience
and thank the dangerous, deep, dark waters
for the lesson
they taught me.

Because I know
that next time I feel that familiar tug
the next time that going with the flow
threatens to drown me,
I will remember that I know how to escape–
I just need to trust my breath.


Photo by Berend de Kort from Pexels

This week’s resource is a reminder that Black lives still matter and there are an abundance of ways that you can continue to support the cause. Here is a different carrd of resources than what I have previously linked to. There are several repeat sources and petitions, but it also includes material that was not on the other carrd that I referenced months ago.

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Breathe In, Breathe Out

I place one foot in front of the other.

My heart beats rhythmically.
My hands rest delicately at my sides.
My feet are planted firmly on the ground.
Breathe in, breathe out.

The path under me is a beige concrete.
It extends infinitely in front of me.
Grass borders either side of it.
Breathe in, breathe out.

I place one foot in front of the other.
My legs lead me forward down my path, past neighbors’ houses.
I have no destination, only a desire for a journey.
Breathe in, breathe out.

I encounter very few people on my walk.
Most of the neighborhood is wisely under a semi-lock-down.
The people I do pass give me a wide berth, and I do the same to them.
Breathe in, breathe out.

The tulips and daffodils are about to bloom.
I can see their green tendrils poking through the dirt.
Spring will soon begin, but for now, I live in winter.
Breathe in, breathe out.

The rain from last night leaves puddles on the sidewalk.
I pay attention and make sure to step around them.
Those tulips and daffodils surely needed that rain.
Breathe in, breathe out.

My journey carries me home.
I am back at my warm apartment, on my comfortable couch.
The keys of my laptop click softly as I touch them.
Breathe in, breathe out.

The world is in chaos and I am too,
but I choose, in this moment,
to reflect on my path and to be at peace.
Breathe in, breathe out.

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