Kiddie Pool

I have always been drawn to water. The paradox of danger and peace it lends to our language can be twisted and turned into a hundred different metaphors. It is even said that drowning is the most peaceful way to die--though I don't know how one would test out a theory like that. Tonight, I will exploit water, once again.

"How's 2011 treating you?" I ask, knowing the answer, but trying to keep the conversation falsely jovial.

"Eh." He replies, sugar coating the truth.

"Yeah. I've decided that January's the worst month of the year."

"It's miserable. And it just started."

"At this point I don't think it could get much worse, really." I say without considering my words in advance. I've grown that habit around Leon. Thankfully he understands, but he still responds harshly.

"Well, I could have cancer and be two weeks from possibly losing my eye."

For the second time in a month, these words have taken my breath. I find myself ashamed that I had begun to forget.

It's not all that surprising when tragedy strikes and we find ourselves reexamining our priorities. I always end up taking more time to read when I realize the short amount of time I have in life. Not that I think reading will accomplish anything for me after death, but I, honestly, hate watching TV and I should enjoy my life while I still have my health. Additionally, I find myself to be disgusted with our culture. We spend so much time focused on instant gratification and satisfying our immediate needs that we miss out on the wonders and the beauty of life. I am so very guilty of this. Lately I've been trying (here comes the metaphor) to climb my way out of the kiddie pool I've been swimming in and make my way into a pond--at least.

I want each day to be a challenge. A struggle to stay afloat. Not miserably, but an exciting struggle. I want to be challenged to the point of breaking. I want to be so exhausted that I need to tread water for a while in order to rest. I don't want to sit in a few shallow inches of water until they turn room temperature. Where's the adventure in that? Where's the danger that water brings if the my biggest fear is being afraid I'll fall asleep and drown?? If I'm going to lose myself in this world, it's going to be because I worked so hard to learn more about it that I couldn't find my way out. I'm not going to let myself go on auto-pilot and fall into the same nauseating trap that our world seems to live in.

I want struggles. I want hard times. I want to lose my faith, my life, my heart, so that I can search my way through this world and find it again.

I won't be blind. I won't be ignorant. I won't sit in a kiddie pool forever. When I die, it's going to be in an ocean, finding joy between the peace and the dangers of this world.