Learning to Swim

  How we interact with phenomena is a kind of choice or an art. We can either respond to situations with a mindset of wanting things to be different, or we can deepen our appreciation of, and relax into, how they are unfolding. 

   It's a bit like learning to swim: we first struggle to keep afloat by kicking very hard and resisting due to the fear of drowning. When we finally get the handle of swimming, it feels more like a being with as opposed to a being against or being opposed. We allow more times when we can trust that our body will rise back to the surface, and all we need is a soft kick to steer our bodies forward and in a certain direction.

  Fear is often how we might first interact with something strange or new. When I am learning a new skill, I feel a part of me is awkwardly coming to grips with it, lacking the know-how to navigate it. Soon, if I have enough faith, I start to see how myself and the difficulty are not separate at all. What I thought was disconnect was actually just learning how to adjust and be part of a process using new parts of ourselves. But, in the beginning, learning involves a letting go of self. Simone Weil suggests that this kind of learning is a form of prayer in which we learn to empty the self and allow ourselves to be taken over by a difficulty or challenge. It's actually much harder to do this when we are experts in something. Our minds are lacking in the ability to receive things.

    I'd like to suggest that, rather than jumping in to fix something, or to "understand", that instead, we can leave larger parts of us to "just be" in this situation--even when we might risk looking (or feeling) dumb. There is no word in English for this soft receptiveness, which sometimes feels foolish, like when we are at a loss for words or enter a gap of uncomfortable silence. By allowing larger moments of just being, we can become more comfortable in the confusing and soundless forces of life, as well as to stop trying to put everything into boxes. There is tremendous power in this "just being" even if it sometimes feels sad or heavy in the beginning.

   Sometimes, the voices around us can fill the ear with answers, like wine spilling over the glass. There is too much sound and noise--much more, in fact, than what the mind can fully process. Times of overwhelm feel like losing and carrying too much. So again, we have to learn not to listen to all the sounds.