Unscripted. Unedited. Real.
Writing for five minutes.
A sort of writing flash mob.
The only way to pull this off is for me to willingly choose to lose my footing. Otherwise, it is no different than being pushed off the edge.
I don't want to be pushed.
But, in order to tilt slant I have to let the total of who I am pitch over itself. It means plunging headlong towards the bottom of the murky depths, despite my fears of what lies beneath.
I have to let what is known beneath my toes give way to nothingness.
And then, for a moment, there will be freedom.
For that in-between space, the one where I am neither on land or in water, it is just like that first day. That journey between darkness and light when I burst forth this side of heaven with a splash? It, too, was the yoke between the known and the unknown.
Only, this time, I must risk becoming unseen.
For the flipside of leaping is a necessary descending.
But that arc? It is just part of one big cosmic circle and so there will be a rising.
My face will split the waters and I will breathe again.
"If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking."
-John Mark McMillan