I’ve always had a fear of water that’s deep I remember my fright in the city pool how I made friends with the shallow end how close to the sides I’d keep. I still recall that curved stone edge how my fingers held on and I felt a fool being so scared when the other kids would jump in the deep end with joy how I felt like such a silly scardy boy and I envied their abandon and grit the big splash when their cannonball hit.
But it’s true my daddy was never there to teach me to swim to help when I came up coughing for air. Oh man, how I could have used him and his strong arms to hold me and show me the breast stroke slap my back when I choked.
Now I still thirst for a father when I get afraid of the deep water. The difference is now I’ve got a dad who’s always there when I’m afraid or sad. In fact I look forward to the dive into the deep where I’m so alive centered and at peace. But I’m still learning to let go and release the edge of that deep pool and breathe in the depths… of spirit fuel.