Learning to walk on water is stepping boldly forward without caring more if you’ll fall below unknown depths or stand supported above the surface of your previous knowing. Look how the clear glassy surface of the water extends itself outward, inviting you to take a step in a new direction. A step into the unknown, buoyed by surrender and humility. A step into the next phase of your life that whispers of infinite possibilities incomprehensible to the rational mind. Arising from the water, drenched and laughing, you’re welcomed into a new kind of home that is not constructed of walls and a ceiling that shields you from the elements, but instead is a receptive membrane that allows the elements to teach your body about where it is so that it can adapt in real-time. From this new home within yourself, you’re not cold as you emerge on the bank soaking from your reckless step, but instead, you’re rejuvenated as if baptized in the great wellspring itself. The cool rain soothes you and the wind pushes you gently forward on your path. This step off the bank sings of a new kind of “yes” to all that has been waiting dormant within you for so long. This step is taken with reason no longer holding dominant reign over your mind, replaced instead by a fluid shape-shifting wisdom that weaves its way playfully throughout your consciousness, daring you to try things that only the curious child alight in your heart would dare to try.
Learning to walk on water is letting the grief that wallows deep within you for all that will be lost to time flow through you like thunder rolling across the landscape of your knowing, leaving you powerless but to kneel down humbly before the setting sun and cry out for the beauty that can only be grasped in its fullness in the very moment it flitters between your outstretched fingers gone too soon to the setting sun. This kneeling down and sobbing is the only worthy honoring of the transient impermanence that your corporal flesh knows all too well as the fate it too will reach as it hurdles through time. Your grief a sacrament to mortal life itself being known, if only fleetingly, through your primal acceptance of the passing of time within and through your immediate experience as it appears in this crystallized moment in which you find yourself with tears pouring down your face, enthralled by the encroaching darkness.
Learning to walk on water is felt in the tender, daring love that unites us across unseen realms and uplifts us to higher versions of ourselves, from which vantage point we have the grace to let one another roam freely as we were meant to be. To love so wildly that only freedom can arise as the fruits of our sacred bond. To honor our partnership so fully that time and space apart is welcomed as a perfect practice ground for rebuilding that which has been neglected and renewing that which we’ve allowed to become too familiar within and between us. Giggling afloat a rowboat in a marshy southern wonderland, the edges of our comings and goings radiate through us into magical possibilities, whispering of the gift that has been bestowed to us for safekeeping. We are asked to trust the winds to take us where we need to be, and if so willing, to bring us back together again clearer and more capable than ever before of building what is our birthright to build alongside one another.
Learning to walk on water is using my index finger intuitively like a knife to cut through to the core of your entrapment, lodged tonight in your solar plexus where the demons that still cling to you from the inside desperately try to squelch the life and light that you are learning to wield with dexterity. These demons feast on fear and doubt, and so the light you are cultivating burns through the shadowlands of their previous homeland. As your mind and body become an increasingly inhospitable home for them, they rise up in resistance. And yet redemption is possible for all beings, including our innermost demons, and so with my index finger as a knife, I help cut them free, inviting them to relax and release at last into a new story of surrender and transmutation.
Learning to walk on water is dancing to the songs of the past winter as they weave their way through our limbs and express themselves vibrationally through our twirling legs and outstretched hands. Our bodies crawl on the floor like wild creatures, we laugh into each other’s open minds and we bask in deep stillness across the quiet room.
It is time to learn to walk on water! For it is time to take up the reigns of our own lives and plant the only seeds that can sustain a new world. The planets have given their cosmic blessing and the winds have blown the tidings through the open windows of our souls. And so the only thing left to do is to build what is ready to be built, one stone at a time, with our minds always tuned to the frequency of freedom and our hearts always replenished by the warm, sweet embrace of true belonging.
There have been doubts so large and monstrous that we have stumbled. And yes, these doubts will again raise their heads from the shadows of our most hidden wounds and the dark closets of the collective forgetting. And yet, the doorway to the old ways has been closed, and so there is no such thing as turning back now. Only onward exists and only upward beckons. This will mean many changes for all of us, and yet listen to the one who dwells within you tells you with stoic resolve that she is ready. Feel his timid eagerness within your chest as he whispers that he has never been more willing for anything in his life.
“We’ve been training for this for so long,” we laugh as we dance one last ecstatic dance within the safety of our nest, ready at last to fly. We will surely fall, as there is no other way to learn to fly, but falling never tastes so sweet as it does when it’s so natural that it’s all your body knows to do. See how this readiness to take flight wills itself outward through your flesh as the living invitation you have been waiting for for so long. Did you not predict that the invitation would arise from within? As an answer to a prayer that you once mistook as yours alone but now you understand stirs in the wild hearts of so many. Praise the all-hearing ears that live within you, hearing and heeding your stillest call.
The trick with learning to walk on water is to find security in caring not if you’ll be submerged into unknown depths or if you’ll stand supported above all reason. It is the step itself where the meaning resides. You are learning, and so at first you will likely fall through the surface of your knowing. But feel the rushing water as an embrace as you take your place among the family of all things. Take comfort in the fact that each step you take boldly across the boundary from the known into the boundaryless unknown is what itself builds the very stability of which you seek. For the secret is that you, yourself, are the living bridge between the seen and the unseen realms. With each step you take across this abyss, you are becoming that which you presently cannot see but with time will become the very foundation upon which you will stand and build all things.
Here, then, is a call for all the wise fools out there – come forth from the wilds and step boldly with us toward all that awaits to be illumined from the depths of your fearless hearts! The time is now and the first step is as clear as the sunlight dancing upon the water of your knowing.