The Lake

I am in the middle of a vast lake. My arms are exhausted from the long swim. Barely able to keep my head above the frigid water I gasp for breath. I’m not going to make it. It’s too far. It’s too hard.  The temptation to swim back to the shore from where I came intensifies with every strenuous moment, every kick of my tired legs. I turn onto my back to float for a moment allowing my body to rest because I feel like I am on the verge of drowning. Why did I do this?

I lay upon my back, but the icy water makes each moment one of hyper awareness of every part of my physical form. There was to be no relaxing now. The waves splash droplets onto my skin and they feel like needles piercing every part of me. I just want it to end. I want it to be over. Birds fly above me; dark black figures against the grey and white backdrop of the never-ending stormy sky. They look down at me, and I can only imagine they are witnessing my demise. I wonder what they must be thinking of me.

I fix my gaze upon them, a distraction from what I am going through in this occasion, and I am envious of their wings, their ability to cross this lake with what seems like effortless gliding. Why is something so difficult for me, so simple for something else? The birds circle back and around until they dance their way to the other side of the lake where the sun is shining down through the thick clouds. My teeth are chattering uncontrollably. I have been still in the water for too long and my muscles are now starting to tense. I need to move, but in which direction?

If I turn back now I might not make it, or worse I will endure the journey and take with me the memory of this failure. OR I can keep going… I might not make it to the other side. Or better, I will endure the journey and take with me the memory of this triumph. Go Dani… GO. You can do this. Just move.

I lift my arm out of the water. It drags along the surface as I push the water away, creating a push underneath the glassy top. My body feels like it has grown 10x heavier in the past 5 minutes and each stroke and kick is excruciating. Keep going. Breathe. One more stroke. One more…  I push myself with every breath, the birds watching me from the shoreline now, squawking loudly as if cheering me on. Yes I Can. Its so close. The sand of the shore is growing closer with every push and pull of my body as I move myself into the delightfully melting rays of the sun poking through the coverage overhead.

The reprieve from the chill is welcomed as I increase my tempo. Kick. Stroke. Breathe. Kick. Stroke. Breathe. Until finally I kick and my foot meets the shallows. My toes dig into the sandy bottom and I crawl my way onto the beach, the sun now enveloping my body like a warm blanket. I lay upon my back gasping each breath, my wet hair strung across my face, as I begin to laugh. My cheeks break through the tension the cold water had put upon them and a smile erupts as tears join my laugh. I did it.

It all made sense in that moment. Pain and Joy, they are connected, just as much as a fruit is connected to the branch it grew upon.

You see… there was no lake, not really… there were no birds, no cold water, but there was struggle. There were choices to be made, and effort to be put in. I found myself at the middle, a crossroad if you will, faced with the decision to push forward into the unknown, or turn back to the comforts of familiarity bringing with me the discomfort of giving up. The distance was the same: go back, or go forward. At any point in your life you will be faced with a decision: are you a victim, or are you a survivor?

Because in the end, life is a beautiful struggle.