I remember joining the school's swim club, which used to hold lessons at a public pool on alternate Saturdays. Because there were so many of us and only 3 coaches, lessons were conducted in the shallowest pool for safety reasons.
Everybody knew how to swim in that pool,
not because they were swimmers from the start,
but because everyone was aware that the bottom of the pool was within reach of a stretched foot.
Nobody was afraid to let themselves be submerged, float, or attempt to swim from one end to the other, because they knew that the floor was always there to keep them from drowning.
The streaked blue concrete floor was a form of psychological security
which allowed everyone to let buoyancy take control.
One Saturday, the coach told us to gather around the edge of a different pool--
the one with the floor that seemed to stretch several feet deeper,
the one that us non-swimmers go into, but cling to the side for security.
He told several good swimmers to jump in and swim across from one end to the other,
which they all did effortlessly. Then without warning he started grabbing my friends one by one, and threw them into the pool. Some bobbed up and down before being rescued by a long stick.
Some suddenly just knew how to swim from one end to the other like they had been swimming for years.
Someone grabbed me and before I could protest out of panic,
I was thrown into the water.
I don't know how-- probably in attempts not to drown, I just started swimming.
Well OK, I was actually trashing like a whale to the other side, and thank christ the distance wasn't too long because I don't remember actually taking in any air.
I remember having time to think, well this is a good way to run out of breath and die.
But I made it, from one end to the other, and finally got pulled up by friends who were cheering for us.
Funny enough, until now, I still can't swim,
I blame it on the fear that I won't have the solid ground to stand on... just in case.
Even when we're out at sea floating in a life jacket,
my mind starts panicking when the sand disappears from my toes' reach.
(Also, the fact that all things look vague at sea there's always the fear of water snakes, sharks, and jellyfish dancing about ready to latch on to you. I hate you Baywatch and Jaws.)
Today while deep in my demented thoughts
I wonder if this reminiscence of my childhood is the same with us and life.
We're so afraid of changes because familiarity and routine are like psychological security blankets to us.
Perhaps sometimes we need to be thrown into the deep end every once in a while in order
to find out what we can do that's beyond our expectations.
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