Manic Monday: Will You Stand on the Shore or Explore the Deep Beneath?

The view under the surface in the Bahamas

I love to go to the beach for vacations - preferably warm, tropical waters. The biggest reason is that I love to snorkel.

Those who witness my snorkeling may chortle under their breath. I must be a sight. With my extremely fair skin, I'm not a bikini-clad, tanned vision in the water. I'm more of a cover-most-of-the-body with a suit, zinc oxide on my nose sort of snorkeler. 

But once I slip into the water, I don't care what people on the boat think. Once in the water, the only sound is of my breathing through the snorkel tube. In the water, it's just me and the fish and coral. Once in the water, I'm floating on top of a world of color, drama and mystery. In the water, I'm witnessing a part of the deep beneath.

You can't sit on shore, staring at the glassy surface, and hope to know the universe beneath. You have to get into the water to experience it. You must go into the water to witness the deep beneath.

My husband of 24 years is not a snorkeler. He admits that, besides the fact that he's not a strong swimmer, he's afraid of being in the water. Fear of what's below. Fear of the deep beneath.

A lovely view, but no hint of what lies beneath

But he gamely accompanies me on my snorkeling adventures, suffering through motion sickness, popping the Dramamine. He stays in the boat while I explore. He's happy on the surface, thank you very much, and has no desire to explore the deep beneath. No desire to face this fear.

This year, while in the warm Bahamian waters around Nassau, my nine-year-old daughter decided that she would snorkel too. "I want to go with you mama," she said. She donned the mask and flippers and slipped right into the cool water.

At first, she was afraid. She held my hand tightly as we flippered ourselves away from the boat and out into the open water.

But then her grip loosened. I turned to look at her. I was rewarded with seeing the biggest smile I think I've ever seen on a person. Her eyes were wide and sparkling with wonder. She pulled her vision away from the purple and pink corals long enough to look into my eyes and give me a thumbs up.

We held hands and happily swam together that day, enjoying a moment of wonder. It was the single happiest hour of my life.

You see, it's not only that I got to show my daughter the wonders of at least one, small tiny piece of ocean. And it's not just that we experienced it together. No, my real joy was in the fact that she chose to explore the deep beneath rather than sit in the boat, viewing only the surface. Despite her fear, she jumped in anyway.

I've spent much of my life avoiding the deep beneath of things - avoiding because of fear.

But the more I explore the mysteries, the more free I feel. Free to try new things. Free, also, to say no to something that truly doesn't interest me. Free to know the difference between "not interested" and "no, because I'm afraid."

Writing fiction is an exploration of the deep beneath (if a writer allows it, that is). It's an excavation of the inner deep. A search for the truth within. When entering that place, one must not cave into fear. It takes a certain amount of courage to see the "truth" of the inner house.

Right now I'm working on Book 2 of the Akasha Chronicles. It will be titled "Emily's Trial." In it, Emily and her friends must face their fears head on when they go to a world where fears and nightmares become real.

I've got the draft written and feel okay with what has happened on the page so far. But I'm not satisfied. Perhaps I've stayed on the surface with it? Maybe I held back from going there - going to the deep beneath of fear.

As I thought about snorkeling and my nine-year-old daughter facing her fear, it inspired me. If she can jump, maybe I can too. 

It takes courage to explore the deep beneath.

Will you stay on the shore? Or will you jump into the black waters?

Manic Monday: Family Vacation, DisneyPalooza 2012 & Perspective

Regular visitors to my blog may have noticed a lack of new posts over the past couple of weeks. I was on vacation!

Two weeks with family on a Disney-Palooza extravaganza. I didn't check e-mails, write, tweet (much), Facebook (excessively), work at my day job or worry about much of anything for two weeks.

This was a trip of firsts. My first cruise (loved it!!!). My first time to the Bahamas (great water and snorkeling, but humid - oh my!). My first time parasailing (can I have seconds please?).

Trying new things gives us a different perspective and a change in perspective can energize our creativity. Parasailing set me above it all, flying over the water like a bird. I looked out and saw the entire island. From that height, the people disappeared. It was quiet. I was alone with the wind whipping my hair.

Perspective. Even from a few stories up, it becomes apparent just how small we are.

Snorkeling in the ocean with my daughter - another first. Oh, I've snorkeled before, but never with her. Holding her hand gently as we flippered our way out into the ocean, hovering over a reef teeming with sea life. She was a bit afraid. But I am so proud of her for conquering the fear and diving in to the deep beneath.

As we swam I looked over and saw her eyes wide and twinkling with excitement, her face beaming under the snorkel mask. Holding the hand of my baby - a hand that was once tiny and so in need of me. A hand that is now close to the size of mine. We had only an hour there, together, swimming with the fishes. But it was one of the best hours of my life. We shared a hidden treasure together that day. I held her hand as she ventured one step closer to  her independence.

Perspective. Does it get any better than this? Holding the hand of someone you love as you experience something amazing together.

Later that day, we took a horse-drawn carriage ride through Nassau, Bahamas. If you're picturing a grand carriage with a gorgeous, well-groomed horse like you might see around Central Park, stop it! 

Picture instead a rickety buggy, with chipped pink paint covering countless previous coats. You step up into the back seat and reach for a receipt in your pocket to use to wipe the bird poop off of the seat. The horse is so dusty and old, her straw hat so torn and moth-eaten, you wonder if she's really alive at at all. Against your better judgment, you get in.

But the horse was alive and she pulled that cart as we tooled around downtown Nassau. She didn't pull us over to the Atlantis resort side of Nassau. No, we got the tour of the real Nassau, the one not shellacked over for the tourists. It was a brief, 30-minute ride, but it was enough to reveal the poverty in every corner of the town. Run down. Seen better days. Reliant on tourist dollars. That is what I saw from my perch on the bird-poop soiled back seat of that carriage.

Perspective. Be thankful for what you have. Be aware of so many with so little.

A cruise. Disneyworld. Time with extended family and a day at the beach. We enjoyed all of it. But I think we had just as much fun over our long weekend at home after we got back.

Perspective. It's not about where you are, but who you're with.

Today I dropped my daughter off for her first day of summer camp, 2012. After I signed her in, I planned to help her get oriented. She said, "I've got this mom." 

And she did have it under control. An old pro now at the summer camp thing. One more thing she doesn't need my help with any more. But perhaps there are more hand-holding moments in her future - more first steps into the great beyond when she'll reach for my hand.

Our time together is precious. Maybe that's what vacations are really about. Sure adventure is great. Relaxation is required. Buffets are awesome.

But the thing I'll remember most about family vacation 2012 is the look on her face when she discovered the world beneath the surface while holding my hand. Priceless.