On leaving the rock...

Like ocean drifters below the surface, all of us are swept along the great currents. Some seem powerless against even the lightest of eddies, virtual plankton at the mercy of events, emotions and circumstances. Others fight, dashing against the rush like a voracious billfish, powerful and flighty. Even the great whales, whose power and grace propel them steadily in whatever direction they choose, ride the global gyres in seasonal migrations across the seas.

Now I face changing currents. Like a river adjusting its flow to a new obstruction, my own life has reacted to dramatic events that will shape my future. I put many of those obstacles there and I have negotiated tracks through and around them. I will not stop, any more than a river will stop, even if it is dammed. Mine will not be a passive ride, however. Like a piscine predator I will dart into the current to snatch prizes that I need to keep myself whole. The infinite twists of the complex, asymmetrical synchrony will continue to push me from all sides, forcing a reaction simply to hold my place.

But I will not hold my place any more than the drifting plankton or the speedy billfish. I refuse to be the barnacle that settles into a permanent residence after a youth of riding the currents among the planktonic community. As an adult, the barnacle fastens itself to a rock and begins sifting passing morsels from the very community it was only recently a member of.

Perhaps it was fear of a barnacle-like existence that led me to my sweet ylang. Rather than living a vicarious life of spectating, I chose to leap into the current and swim. She too, detached from the safety and resignation of her rock to swim with me. Powerful currents pushed against us - we rode those currents and swam against them at times. Drifting and darting, we went places we wanted to go, avoided certain dangerous waters, and flirted inside the jaws of bigger fish hungry to make a meal of us.

Like life within the complex food chain of the sea, there were dangers lurking in the depths. By leaving our rocks we exposed ourselves. Each of us was attacked by our own predators. Both were wounded. We comforted each other for a time but ultimately our individual pain was our own to endure.

Now we have swam, hurting but healing, apart. This, I am convinced, is necessary. Although I've returned to the family I love, I'll not return to a sessile mode. Less of a spectator and more of a participant - that is the legacy I will seek. I will make mistakes and may be wounded again, but it will be in the company of my family. My regret over outcomes of my own past actions primarily or exclusively center around the hurt that I've caused to those who loved me, both within that family and outside it. Although I never intended malice, I know that I've left feelings of betrayal inside those I care most about. I hope and pray for forgiveness.

Now is the time for both of us to swim, kicking to keep our heads above the surface. Certainly things might have been different - that will always be true. Our time together has improved my own fitness and, I want to believe, that of my sweet ylang. I can see that she's cried. But I also know that she's learned. She is stronger than she knows. She is not at the mercy of the currents but fully capable of swimming free. Swim, girl.