Earlier this year, we moved into a house on a lake. It has been pure bliss. We absolutely ADORE our home and our little family is so much more content. There is a certain kind of peace we all feel, living at the waters edge.
Growing up in Northern Minnesota, lake life is a way of life. It is simple. Choosing to live in the moment, the quiet of the early morning on the lake, the thrill of being pulled up on water skis, the serenity of watching the pastel ombre of the sunset over the lake as the smell of campfires and grills waft by on the wind.
Amidst the simplicity of those moments, there is the dock.
The docks of my childhood were usually wooden plank docks, often somewhat rickety and worn. Rarely stable. The dock would rock back and forth with the wind and the waves. There, on that swaying dock, you felt grounded by the worn wood of the long lost trees used to build it. Simultaneously, you could feel the enormous power of the wind and the water. A power that you could not help but close your eyes and just feel.
Standing on the edge of the dock, feelings swirl - trepidation of the uncertainty below the surface, fear of the height of the fall, anticipating the shock as the water encompasses you whole, the anxiety as you imagine waiting while you rise back to the surface all combined with the electric excitement at the thrill of falling into the unknown.
Now, living on a lake and reflecting on my childhood, watching my children jump off our floating dock, I cannot help but see the corollary between the dock and life. Life is powerful and can change everything like the wind and the water. We are often encompassed by the swirling uncertainties of what will happen next. We stand on the edge of our lives and wait for that perfect moment to jump. But, just as the lake is never still, life continues to ebb and flow. We can choose to watch carefully and feel the anxiety and trepidation of what could happen, or we could jump all in and embrace the elation and joy of living in each moment.
I am a thinker. Contemplation is an activity I enjoy, but no one should live in contemplation. Contemplation is like standing at the edge of the dock and never jumping.
I love standing at the edge of the dock for a few moments, but even more, I love jumping in.