There is not a cloud in the sky to be seen, not a trade wind in the air to be felt.  I stand on the sweltering hot sand with the sun beating down on my midnight black hair and the bottoms of my feet burning up.  It is hot today.  It is unbelievably and unbearably hot.  Still, here I remain on shore waiting for direction, waiting for a command, waiting for someone else to select the next move for me.

Waiting like a kid playing Simon Says and yet all I hear is a barely audible, “You’re free.”

“Free?” my mind begins to ponder.  “Oh, no, no, no.  This is when someone tells me what to do and where to go and what my enumerated list is for the next five years.  This is a really big ocean of options.  How am I supposed to know which path to take?”  Still, in spite of my doubts, “Free,” I whisper as my toes reach forward to high-five the tip of the incoming wave.  The water feels shocking and refreshing but looks intimidating.  The sand is so hot at this point, though; I have no choice.  “FREE,” I declare as I walk ankle-deep into the ocean and indulge in the relief of its invigorating temperature.

I walk farther out until I am waist-deep.  A tingly sensation begins to spread over and up my abdomen.  I freeze up, almost wishing for the misery of the burning hot shore.  I am tempted to look back, but I know that’s not where I am going.  Because of that, I continue to walk forward.  My flat feet have already become tiptoes and my tiptoes are now being forced to prepare for take off.  Chest.  Chin.  Mouth.  Everything is slowly going under; and in a split second of rash decision-making, I release my panic and relax my body, forfeiting it completely to the ocean’s grasp until every last strand of hair is inundated.

…And it feels so good.  For I realize, I’m not drowning.  I’m dancing.  I’m finally free and  dancing underwater with immeasurably more grace and elegance than I ever had on land.  Pushing the water back and then forward with my hands and legs, I glory in the weightlessness of myself.  All pressure is taken off of me and all freedom afforded to me as I move in its infinite fluidity.

So here in the deep waters of unmerited favor and unrelenting approval and acceptance, I keep my ears well under the surface and out of earshot from the oppressive voices back on shore.  I come up for a bit, just long enough to catch my breath but not enough to hear out my past.  I am not sure which way I’m going, but it’s my ocean.  Not a swimming pool lap lane.  It’s a journey, I know, and I’m still learning.  But boy am I making big strides and bold moves, fatiguing a bit but continuing to swim–wild and free and, for the most part, forward.