Swimming in the pond I am weightless. Floating on the gentle current that my body created upon submerging myself and diving off of the dock, I use my arms and legs to gently propel myself in figure eight laps around the cool pond. The water is slightly colored, but beautiful, soothing and pretty clear. This moment I am taking for myself. The sky becomes large around me, and the view is mostly of the clouds and tall towering trees on the property that surround the pond. My mind becomes clear like the water, and my thoughts kind, as the gentle water passes over my shoulders and around my body. It is okay to take a break here. It is okay to become slow and listless. My dog wanders around the edges of the pond and explores the reeds at the edge, coming down to the rim and drinking the cool water. I speak to him in loving sounds. He lays down and nestles himself in the grasses at the waters edge.

The metaphor is simple. It would be easy to focus on pushing myself through the water, pressing against the resistance my body feels while swimming, with stroke after stroke. But I am tempted to slow down and swim softly and gently. I then can feel the subtle and kind nature of the water. I can communicate with the easy flow, as it supports me as I float around. It reminds me that in life it feels easier to force things. Often with my schizoaffective disorder, and the medications I take, I drink coffee in the morning to wake up and fight side effects. I force myself into motion throughout the day. There is a lot to do with my partner becoming increasingly disabled, and I want a happy and clean home. I have goals at the gym, and I like to get there in the morning. Pushing forward is not always the answer. Sometimes, in order to process deep and heavy realities, or to care for ourselves emotionally, we must find the gentle breeze of the universe, surrender, and float.

Easy does it. That is one of many slogans from my twelve step program. How can I convince myself that this is the healing path, when I fall short all of the time and mental illness continually holds me back? I must stop coming down so hard on myself. I must learn to love myself and heal my self esteem. I am enough, and I do enough. In order to get through life, sometimes we need to stop fighting and pushing. I can become a leaf floating on the surface of a river, following the currents, trusting God, and become grateful that I am afloat. Feeling the flow and support of my body as it floats, I can understand that there are forces that love me and are gentle. I have a lot of help. Life is not always about pushing forward with the resistance that swimming rigorously through the waters of life insists upon. Once I feel the beauty, softness, and gentleness of the waters, I may begin to understand the healing nature of taking it easy. I must find meaning in the empty space. I must treat myself with gentle support. As I learn to not control and push my way through life, I may come to understand the beauty that surrounds me everywhere. I can let go, and I can see that I am not the moving agent. I can flow and let God. There is help everywhere if I just look, accept and ask. If I stop and feel the soft currents that are present in my life, I will be a better listener both to my partner, and to the nature that surrounds me at every curve.

After four laps around the pond, I summersault and submerge my head one last time. The water is cool, refreshing and enlivening. I swim up to the large rocks and balance on the lower one submerged in the pond. I step carefully out of the water, exposing my nude body to the world. I feel held and nurtured. I feel refreshed. I feel at one with a loving presence in the universe. I am reminded that I can be gentle with myself. I dry off, throw on my smock and robe, corral my pupper, and walk barefoot back to my single wide trailer where Steve sits on his stool by the window. The air smells fresh and moist. Spring has settled in, and the growth all around me is abundant.