…Dance with Me?

   It is with gentle silence that my feet press me forward.  Fingertips outstretched, I hold them straight ahead, as if they were pointed to the stars and reaching toward dreams.  Don’t turn, don’t kick, don’t breathe.  For a moment.  Hold.  Stay.  Captive to the glide, an uncommon force of thrust and drag.  Feel the water?  Feel it move around you oh so softly.  Hush, don’t disturb her – let her go as she will, and make yourself as apologetic for your presence as you can.

  One arm toward the stars, the other drawn back and waiting its invitation.  Still.  Quiet.  Slowly.  Don’t kick.  Relax.  Relax.  Head down.  Chest pressed down.  Hold.  Relax.  Don’t kick.

    …Dance with Me? 

  Don’t make a sound.  How could you?  Sound is absent, dormant, sleeping here.  The one dance ever led with your elbow, let it lift your limp, relaxed arm toward the sky.  Don’t shrug your shoulder.  Don’t kick.  Relax.  Lift.  Effortlessly.

  Let your fingertips drag near the surface of the water.  Keep your head down.  Chest down.  Don’t kick.  Relax.  Wait.  Wait until they barely come to whisper in your ear… are you ready?  All they say is:


  Just one kick, with a snap from your hip that finishes out your toes.  Let that propel you onto your other side.  Your fingers pointed to the stars can shift their gaze down.  Your wrist is high, your elbow high, and one straight pull anchors you, solidly, as your other hand finishes the whisper in your ear and in one fluid motion pulls you forward as it connects with the water again.

  Simultaneous.  Concurrent.  One. 

  And close your eyes… captive to the glide.  Feel the water?  Keep your head down.  Don’t kick.  Hold.  Stay.  Relax.  Effortlessly.  Slowly.

  That utterly exquisite blend of science and art, passion and precision, both feeling and thought and neither at the same time.  The perfect pursuit of such things and doing them with purity of heart is worship. 

  To sing You a song with my being that words cannot grasp…

  … fingertips to the stars.  Feel the water.  Keep your head down.  Relax.  Glide.  Slow.  One stroke at a time.  One stroke at a time.  See the bubbles sparkle like gemstones against your skin?  You are clothed in perfect evening attire.  I hear the silence, and she is music to my soul like a warm blanket of peace.  Hold.  Don’t kick. Don’t create turbulence.  It is not necessary.  Hush.  Quiet.

  Find it.  Find the technique here, in the slow.  Perfect it.  Work on it.  Slow.  One building block at a time.  One layer at a time.  Until you have a solid song that will sing you all the way to purpose!

  Hold.  Glide.  Relax.  Don’t kick.

  …Dance with me?

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