You know that feeling when you push yourself underwater in the deep end and let your air out and sink until your feet loosely hit the cement 12 feet down?
You blow a few extra bubbles out of your nose so you can tilt your head back and see the aqua-white sun shine through the lapping water. Your arms lift bent at your sides, and you finally can’t hear all of the sounds that come with water.
The noise, light, treading limbs are muffled. The pressure is closer than ever.
I crave that feeling.
For some reason, I don’t panic down there. Why does it quiet me instead of overwhelm me?
I have a theory. It’s because to get down there, I have to give up. I have to let go of my breath, my sight, my hearing, my ability to be heard. And go down there alone with that so-powerful pressure.
I can kick up to the surface if I want to, but I don’t. I need to let go of my power, succumb myself to what’s greater than this body. I need to just be down there.
I can’t do that with the usual distractions. I choose to prioritize comfort, fun, acceptance, money, over my real purpose. But when I place myself under that pressure-power, I realize it’s where I’m meant to thrive.
We live on the surface, though, in the chaos. It’s easy to slip down for some peace, and come up to the powerless pressure when we need air, forgetting that real power. But I don’t have to forget it – that it defines my core, tells me why I’m here. Let’s live the peaceful, real pressure. Acknowledge it always.