Imagine being in a waterfall. Being able to relax—while all around, the rush of water tumbling over rocks,
the impact creates mist that sweeps me up, and I am carried by this turmoil. We are part of it, like it or not! I imagine I have time to feel, time to accept, “This is experience!” Time to stop fighting, resisting, or trying to escape.
It carries me and I can float no matter how loudly turmoil boils and hisses; for this moment, I am able to relax and feel the sunlight sparkle on my fingertips. I take in a breath; I stretch and wiggle all my toes in this fresh water, breathing out. Now. The image changes as I pause to breathe. There is no rush. The flowing water slows down and I drop softly into quiet. Instead of slamming into vicious unforgiving rocks where I feared I would be torn apart, I do fall gently into this, a sunlit pool.
I am on a sunny bank where I am able to look down through deep dark, green-tinted clear water to where a fish is visible, just barely visible, and safe in shadow from a rock. It swims out; its shiny scales catch and throw back little glitters to me; it is not afraid of me. For an instant, I experience this, and with a tail-flick, I move on. It’s Step Eleven.
Now I can hear birds and children playing in the meadow where there is a garden party going on. It is a buffet for me. I dry off, pull on some clothes and go up to take a look. It is safe. All are invited; I am warmly welcomed if I feel inclined to join the group, but I am appreciated anyway if I just want to watch. No one is afraid of me.
Kathleen S. Near Mt. Shasta, Northern California.