Sometimes I feel like I’m on an island of my own understanding and it’s surrounded by a really rough sea that I swam through to get here and there are storms and rocks. I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to, or knowing how to swim across it to get to me, but occasionally I wish that someone could. It would be nice to share a tropical drink on the beach of my psyche with another person, you know?

But everyone has their own sea to swim.

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky’s Moonlight on Rough Seas

What if I join you in the churning water? I have a small boat and I can float along next to you as you swim. It’s work rowing the boat, but you’re doing the real tough job swimming and sputtering along. Sometimes I have to slip into the water too and do some swimming of my own so I can know what the water feels like, what the horizon looks like when you’re fighting the waves. This way I can guide you when the salt gets in your eyes. At times I have to dive under the surface to see the weights that you have hung from your heart. It’s easy to forget them when you’re working hard just to stay afloat in the moment.

What if we cut them free? Would you be so light you could walk on the water instead?