This is an experiment in water. A novice learning to stay afloat. For some it becomes a physics problem, for others it is only a matter of truth. For all involved it appears relative. Volume, air pressure, flow, velocity, can you control the monkey mind.
My Dad was a fish, the first person I had ever seen do the butterfly. It was a startling Olympic event performed behind a camper on a reservoir in Mississippi. We kids would spend the entire day soaked, performing water ballet, seeing how long we could hold our breath, skiing, swimming to the outer edge of parental consent then being called back. It had to be one of those days blending into each other that I turned and watched as the large man who I knew as my Dad burst out of the smooth water, arms outstretched, eyes barely open, mouth exacting a precise inhale. The water came as a thin sheet down his face. Then down he was and up again. The motions repeated over and over until he transitioned seamlessly into a graceful swim. For him, I am now almost certain it was a morning exercise routine. For me then, it was magic.
Still today over thirty years later I can still almost touch what that felt like, the first time I witnessed what appeared to be magic. Now I smile when I think about how this little site has water in it's name and it seems fitting that the creek it references is where he taught me to swim. Here, as was there, I am learning to float first.
Maybe one day I'll do the butterfly. Maybe not. We'll see.
For now I am grateful for the opportunity to float.