deep rest, then rise

"the sea was never meant to be calm. waves are part of the design." ~ andrea gibson

most of the time

you ride the waves

you swim. tread. float.

you stand in reverence of the entire ocean

most of the time

you know all is well

the storms will pass

the sea will calm

you’ve got this.

most of the time 

you find beauty in the highs and lows of the tides

joy in the opportunity to navigate and explore rough waters

and strength in your capacity to shine your own light through the storm

afterall, you know you are your own damned lighthouse 

but some of the time

a weight pulls you under

not swimming, not floating

sinking

away from all ripples

all rays of light

all drops of rain

here, a numbness of

dulled senses

muffled sound

cloudy vision

shallow breath

a weightlessness in that

you cannot feel

the weight

of anything at all

a nothingness

all around you

and anything that might help you swim

rise

is just out of reach

some of the time

here, you rest

deep. rest.

not floating. not swimming.

but not sinking either.

and not forever.

rest, as in, intentional recovery

of your senses

your capacity

your strength

here, you remember how

to see your light clearly

to hear your own, true voice

to breathe deep into your full self

here, hold on to a compass

one thing of your choosing

to remind you which way is

up

so you may

slowly slowly

gently 

rise 

as you always do

to play in the waves