"You panic, you die."

reading time: 4min

Reality isn’t a stage.

It’s an open ocean that you were thrown into at birth, and you’ve forgotten how to swim.

That’s the real tragedy.

One thing about me: I fucking love the ocean.

Not in the “errhmygerd I love taking sexehh photos by the beach” way,
(though I love me a cute bikini pic..)

But in the “bury me in a coral garden when I die” way.

And while I’m still alive, I fully intend to sink myself into bodies of water, in a million creative ways, in a hundred and one spots around the world, until I’m too old and bent to see past my nose.

But that’s not just because the ocean is “cool”. It’s god’s greatest reminder of our true nature:

Life-bearing, 
Yet devastating.

The ocean didn’t put up a fight to level civilizations.

It simply flowed and consumed with ravishing hunger.

And living in it teaches you how to tap into that same ancient power, in everything you do.

The ocean’s first lesson for me started on land.

In an indoor pool, no lifeguard on duty.

My body 12 pounds heavier than I am at the time of writing, and my mind, a million times heavier than that.

After surviving assault, and no one believing me, panic became my default state.

Submerging into the cold water wasn’t just scary because “I might drown”,
But because, “a monster inside me may come out in my mind, and it’ll be too quiet for me to distract myself with anything else.”

“... and once I go under, I only have myself to rely on.”

I remember being in that cold pool, goggles on, imagining shadows in the water. I’d spend half an hour just immersing half my body in, reminding myself that the monsters were only in my past.

Plunge.
The water is cold against my cheeks.
My heart pounds in my ears.

I gently relax my squint, and see the walls of my enclosure.

It’s just tile.
And no monsters here.

“They are dead, because you killed them by surviving,” my inner voice says.

But learning to trust the water was just step zero.

I had to learn how to create my own current.

So, reluctantly, I learned how to swim.

Almost every day, I met with the water, despite my whole being screaming “danger” at every plunge.

One slow lap quickly became 3.

Shaky, hesitant breaststrokes matured into a confident freestyle.

Every stroke made its round in a fixed rhythm.

Elbow back,
Hand back,
Up to sky,
Pierce the water,
Turn to breathe.
Repeat.

With each beat,
a new current is born,
enveloping my torso, lifting my legs,
as long as I trusted the current,
Head tucked, core engaged,
trusting the water to hold me.

So almost like magic, over just 6 months of swimming almost every day, I went from a woman scared of water, and afraid of herself, to a confident swimmer who didn’t just love her body...

but also remembered something far more important:

“I create the current.”

Suddenly, life was not happening to me, because I was creating it.
I was not running from anything, not even myself.

I became the master of my sea,
And a master of reality, along with it.

“You panic, you die.”

On my first snorkel trip, I swam barefoot.
Just my mask and body against a strong current.

The sea floor was nothing like an olympic swimming pool – I couldn’t see the bottom.

My rational mind spoke, “you keep swimming, you will die”.

The voice of logic chimed in, “how many of yourself can you line up between the surface of the water and the sea floor? 

… and will you drown before you touch it?”

“You are in danger,” the pit in my stomach said.

But I remembered the truth:
My body knows what to do.

One, strong stroke.
My ancestors swim with me.

Another stroke,
Followed by a powerful kick.
I am prepared for this.

A strong right stroke.
I panic, I die.
I flow, I live.

That day I reached the shore, and returned to my room covered in sand,
Marked the day my deepest knowing sank into my bones:

There is no danger in the ocean greater than me.

This story isn’t really about swimming, is it?

It’s about you.

You think the danger is out there.

In the “deep ocean”.
In your business.
In your marriage.
In your kids’ future.
In how you look.

The truth?
The danger is actually you.

You’ve been in the open ocean, flailing with all your might, or maybe, not swimming at all (and calling it some spiritual bullshit...).

So at some point, you drowned.

And instead of learning from it, you turned around and blamed the ocean.

You prayed to the ocean, asking it for more blessings, then wondered why it wouldn’t come. Then when it did, you wondered why it didn’t last.

You prayed to her, and forgot something more important: You are her.
And you’re choking on your own water.

So the question isn’t “how do I control the ocean?”, but “how do I embody my power without drowning, or getting lost at sea?”

This is where I come in.

My name is Doe, the legacy psychic.

I use handwriting to read peoples’ subconscious minds and somatic bodies like the sea floor, and anchor their legacy from the inside out.