Posted by: Artsy Squibbles | August 24, 2006

August 24 2006. Swimming Lessons 101 (drowning victims and driftwood)

I take a new direction today, looking at the outcome of varied events in my life, wondering what the future will bring. As I build the steps that will lead to personal change, my attitude waxes and wanes between hope and desperation. Not a great place to be. Desperation causes more problems so I step back, forced by my current emotional and physical environment to retreat, briefly, and reconsider the stand that I have been attempting to make within my current homelife. Looking at the entire picture, trying to see my part in the scheme of things, and own what is mine so that I might repair any tears in the fabric of this family. This scenario changes on a daily basis…emotional outbursts from myself and others in this home drag us backwards instead of moving us toward the end goal. Is this because my family has such little faith in me? I shrug my shoulders, sigh a very long sigh and begin to breathe, asking that the Universe enlighten me and give me strength.


What I see in this family clearly is a group of people drowning. Each of us dogpaddling, floating, deadman’s float, sculling the water breifly and then floating again. Is this stagnant water we drown in…or fresh and flowing, along a river that will bring us close to a saving rock, branch, or hand, outstretched. Since this is life, flowing, moving, in and around, and through us, I would say that we are closer to the ocean tide than a river.


I dreamt once of being in a Tsunami. Years ago, back in the early nineties, during the earliest stages of my recovery I went through daily anxiety attacks because of this dream. I was afraid to go down to the bay. This dream with it’s images while terrifying in many ways was more enlightening than anything, once I got a grip on it. I survived this wall of water that came crashing over me, pushing me, pulling, dragging me deep below the surface, swiftly passing objects. Bumping into an ebony upright piano, colliding with driftwood and palm trees are the strongest images that remain fresh, more than than ten years later.


I know that a drowning victim can cause another to drown by pulling them down through natural reflexes to climb up and out of the water. There is a safe way to save by tossing a floatable object, or the more challenging approach through a surface dive, coming up behind the victim and gaining control while swimming to safety. It takes a strong swimmer to achieve this. So, how could I possibly save another if I were in the middle of drowning myself. And so goes the family. Struggling, searching for life preservers and finding none. A person cannot give what they do not have, no matter how much they want to. So how do I say this to my family without hurting them. How do I say find your own…way out. When what should have been happening all along is me teaching them how to swim…or at least supplying them with a life jacket.


A life jacket, not unlike the security of loving parents, is not always readily available. God as a life jacket is another potent source. Here lies my dilemna. One size does not fit all. But the Source, isn’t wearable. And religion is more like a frock. Remove the garments or the religion will drown as well. I need to figure out exactly what kind of life jacket I need, not being such a great swimmer, and not seeing a rock in sight…though I keep praying for one. I must teach these people I love so much, while maintaining a safe distance, through example, how to float, scull, and dogpaddle, and not to give up. Never to give up. Just don’t pull me under or I cant’ talk you through this for crying out loud if you won’t listen to me. Stop blaming me for the high tide and learn to swim damnit! You can’t hug a drowning victim if you are one as well.


Yes. This is where we are today. This blog is similar to a piece of driftwood. You might have seen art carvings or paintings on driftwood. Some pictures that were taken a month ago of one local artist are gone. I had hoped to post a section about artists and musicians here in Louisville. Perhaps these are buried beneath a file, program. But for now are unaccessible. I’ve written a few poems, another letter, organized my thoughts a bit and now must look to cleaning up some wreckage in my home.

The next blog might be about learning to fly.





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s