Tea & Agoraphobia

3:06 PM, Thursday afternoon.

Two mugs of home-brewed "PassionFruit Peppermint" tea and I’m tapping my foot and ready to roll...

In an exercise in positive visualization, I’m looking at the New Beetle brochure from Volkswagen again. A silver bug is still my top choice but I’m continually drawn to the yellow version too -- probably because a car that color is fairly out of character for me. I can’t seem to help liking the brightness of it, though.

You see, I have the feeling (make that: creeping certainty) that I have to shake things up. Alter my orbit. Indulge in a little re-invention. I’ve babbled about it before but the point keeps being driven home to me: I have to change...

Once, when I was snorkeling in Kitty Hawk NC, I swam out to where the waters deepened. As I glided along, I watched the sandy bottom drop off into hazy, greenish-blue shadow. It felt like my body was suspended over a cliff. Ahead and below me was this deep wide space, potent with uncertainty. A little shiver of agoraphobia slipped through me as I felt the coolness of those greater depths against my bare skin. I held my breath for as long as I could, looking into that shadowed space and thinking of Nietzsche’s quote.

Then I rose to the surface and cleared my breathing tube. I removed my mask and rolled onto my back, floating, looking up at the tall sunny sky. Swells lifted me up and lowered me down as wavelets lapped at my body. I thought about the depths below and above me for a long time, letting the sun warm my face.

Then I slipped my mask and snorkel back on, turned over, and swam back to shore.

I feel like that now.

--- JWR, 1/14/99