I am going to drown.
Arms flail as water invades airways, pushing ribbons of bubbles toward the surface. Sunlight pales above the waves as the depths claw his feet pulling him ever down into their gullet. Fingers seek slippery purchase, grasping for the surface. Fear twists his inner most parts as gray fog moves in at the corners of his vision.
Tap. Tap. Raps upon his head...is this how it ends?
Logan, stand up. The water is only up to your knees.
Do you remember learning how to swim? Maybe it came easy for you. I have a vague recollection of life before the freedom found in trimming through the water. Once we overcome our fears, they become faint echoes of a past life. Up to that point they are living nightmares, reenacted every time we come face to face with them.
I remember standing on a 250 foot cliff, secure in my rope and harness and hearing those words...Step off. They were in my head, because my belay was a deaf mute, which did wonders for my confidence. What was I going to do? Take my hands off the rope and sign him to pull me up? They say never look down, I was just looking for the softest rock below.
My journey down the 250 foot cliff, began at 30 feet. Our guides started us small. As we mastered those, we built momentum toward what was to come. About half way down, I began to believe in myself. Pushing off farther, traveling further down the rope with each bound. I found freedom.
Usually, opportunity starts as an impossible dream. Our irrational fears keep us buoyed, comfortable in our water wings, settling for small tastes of what we could experience when we are finally willing to take the risk.
In his eyes, desire is building. Soon the fear of missing out will overcome the fear of drowning and Logan will swim. Life will never be the same.