We head to the airport in a few hours, making our first trip back to England since Covid changed the world. All of my husband’s family lives there so, from Manchester to Kent, for the next two weeks we’ll be all over the shop! The little boy in the yellow raincoat is our Frankie on his first English adventure. The little boy with the long locks below will be turning eight in the middle of this coming visit. So much has changed.
Yet so much remains the same. The safety of being snuggled into a Babybjorn harness as he dangles (a little too close for my taste!) out the window of a castle in Wales is perhaps not that different from the safety of our little backyard enclosure. Boundaries and constraints exist to keep our bodies and minds safe.
So what happens when those boundaries disappear for a time?
I’ve had many scuba diving adventures with my father. Ten years ago we went on one dive in Mexico called the Devil’s Throat where we had to swim a distance in open blue to get to the mouth of an underwater cave. The cave entrance sits at about 80 feet below the surface. A diver enters to swim down through a dark coral tunnel and finally emerges at 130 feet into another world. I knew the dive would be a challenge, but what I didn’t expect was the overwhelming feeling of panic in my body as we swam through open water to get to the coral entrance. For about 100 metres there was no difference between where I knew the surface must be and the great depths below - it was all just blue. I (barely!) kept it together by following my father’s flippers until we finally reached the cave’s entrance. I remember stopping at the mouth and looking around at the coral walls in relief. Only then did I feel my body relax enough to slow my breathing. The visible constraints of the tunnel gave my mind something to hold onto in the midst of all that water. By the time we emerged at depth I was breathing normally again and able to enjoy the adventure!
As a baby I don’t think Frankie was cognizant of being kept safe in his carrier. He was too busy taking in the view. Closer to home, I’m not sure he would recognize the fenced enclosure of our yard as doing anything more than keeping the neighbour’s dog and its barking at bay. But I am keenly aware of these necessary boundaries - not just for him, but for me. Resigning from the safe constraints of my job with the school board has landed me in some deep and very open waters. This new life of writing and podcasting is exciting, but my breathing has not yet slowed enough to enjoy the adventure of it all - I’m too busy scanning the waters for some flippers I can follow to get to the metaphorical cave’s mouth. And an interesting plot twist in my own learning has been finding myself wearing the flippers for others to follow as they look to set out on similar adventures.
Learning to swim safely in life’s big open water is an educational metaphor I can wrap my head around. The newer metaphor of being someone else’s flippers to follow through uncharted waters presents as more of a challenge. But I like a challenge. And maybe it’s the mother in me…or the part of my brain that will forever remain a highschool English teacher…but I’m certain that recognizing the beauty in boundaries is part of this adventure.
An amazing dive down through the tunnel and emerging into the dark blue at 140 feet—very cool—then the buzz of narcosis!
I like what you are comparing here with baby Frankie to big boy Frankie and how you felt swimming in open waters until you got to the cave entrance. The tunnel you describe sounds really intense, thank you for sharing the photo! Maybe the imagery of going through the dark tunnel to get to some gorgeous new place can also align to what you are doing for your life right now. Trusting there is somewhere beautiful you are being led to, enjoying a bit of the unknown while you have us fans cheering you along like the oxygen tank would have during that dive or maybe knowing that just getting into unchartered water at all and strapping on your flippers, mask and tank are exercises so rich in defiance to complacency that whatever comes next will be better simply for having been bold to suit up and dive in. I don't know, but I love this writing and I hope to get to read many many more. I just had my soup with you and that makes me so grateful. Please keep going with these!
xoxo Mish