Learning to Float

“The circle of your friends will defend the silver lining.” -John Mayer

I’ve always been a fairly strong swimmer. All of those summer days at swim team practice paid off as a kid! Every morning, I would slip on my slick red, white & blue Speedo, run out the door barefoot, hop on my banana seat bike and head up the big hill to the pool; it was a daily thrill. Our team was called the PM Pests; the practices were tough and we were tough. I loved every minute of the drills, the laps, the push-ups and sit-ups, the challenges and the camaraderie. My brother was on the team as were all of our best buds in the hood. It was the best. Simple. Uncomplicated. Rewarding.

The team was in our neighborhood and we competed against other neighborhoods in the city. Families gathered along the pool’s edge for swim meets as we swimmers huddled under beach towel tents that we constructed using wet towels and the chain-link fence that lined the pool’s perimeter. We’d giggle and laugh and lick our fingers and stick them into the various flavors of dry Jell-O mix to get our sugar buzz before our event and heat were called. The pre-race ritual was always the same: I’d stretch the rubber cap over my blonde-turned green chlorine-stained head, spit into my goggles to prevent fogging and then position those goggles strategically on my face securing their position by pressing them as hard as I could into my eye sockets. This procedure no doubt caused some early on-set wrinkles, but I was racing to win. Climbing on the diving block my legs quivered and my heart galloped, and just before the gun signaled the start of the race, I pulled that little swimsuit weggie out and settled into my very best dive stance. Screams and cheers of overbearing parents in the background would suddenly go silent as I dove into the pool, focused to win. Be strong. Swim strong. Finish strong. It’s just you and the water.

My parents always taught me to be tough, fierce enough to take care of myself and to always move forward independently and unwavering regardless of any setbacks. In most cases, this has always worked…in the water and on land. However, for the past several weeks, I have felt like I have been working really hard just to tread water or to stay grounded. Despite my typical determination and perseverance, I have been struggling just to stay afloat. I have felt weak and tired and confused in what appears to be an unfamiliar sea of rough and unpredictable waters. And lately, I’ve needed more than my own independence and vigor.

In his book, The Power of Kindness Piero Ferrucci writes: “We live in an era of individualism. The individual is celebrated in every form. To be special and creative, to offer an original contribution, to compete with others and be the best: Nowadays this is the guiding idea for many people. [However,] the sense of belonging is a basic need and at the same time the answer to a question. We ask ourselves: What am I part of? And another equally crucial question: Who am I?” Well, in my case, I didn’t even have to ask and I have gotten answers. My friends and family have stepped right in and have let me unload the struggle; letting me float. With compassion, genuine concern and unconditional love, they’ve let me waft. With sweetness, kindness and humor, they’ve held me up; letting me coast. They have let me and my heavy heart be light.

Ferrucci also writes: “…the feeling that we are part of a whole greater than ourselves, with which we are physically, mentally, and spiritually involved is a necessary factor to our well-being. Research has found that support is extraordinarily important for physical and mental health. The greater number of friends upon whom we can count, and the better the quality of these relationships, the greater is our longevity and our health.”

During my yoga practice recently, my teacher asked us to dedicate our practice to someone. This person could be someone that we love or despise, someone we admire or question, or simply someone that needs our support…whomever. She suggested that when the practice became more difficult than we thought we could bear, we visualize the face of that person. As is often the case for me, the practice was frequently challenging and in those seemingly unbearable moments I didn’t just see one face, I saw many: I saw the face of the one who invited me over to bake bread just to keep me busy. The face of the one who invited me to her sister’s “candle” party (even though I loathe those parties) in order to temporarily distract my thoughts came to mind. I saw the face of the one who has listened, and listened and listened even while I was babbling and mumbling and sobbing with snots spewing everywhere. The face of one who has called me every day came into view and also the faces of the others who have called every other day or once a week. The face of that someone who changed their plans at the last minute just to be there for me quickly arose. Then there was the face of that someone who sends me encouraging notes, daily and even sometimes twice a day! There was the gentle face of the one who reminded me that I just have to go through it…I can’t go around it. And then there was the face of that one and the other one and the other one who keeps reminding me who I am. And as I saw all those faces during my practice, the tears came softly from my eyes and I smiled with gratitude and grace.

In the past, I would have struggled through the pain, the confusion and the sadness, alone…brawny and brave. I would have navigated the shifty waters determined to get by…by myself. But through my yoga practice, I am learning the importance of the communities that we create and the value of our relationships that can bear the uncertain waters and buoy us up when we can’t. Through these sustaining relationships, I’ve learned to soften and trust, share my true fears and failures, celebrate the joys and the glory, and laugh at the often absurdity of it all. To all those faces that came to mind, thank you. I am learning to float because of you.

Practice yoga. Create Community. Float.

“The meaning of our self is not to be found in its separateness from God and others, but in the ceaseless realization of yoga, of union.”-Rabindranath Tagore