Come On In - The Water Is Warm | Deeper Life - Episode 15

A dawn encounter with a dolphin becomes an invitation to live more deeply. In this episode, Lulu reflects on surface living, spiritual awareness, and the quiet ways life calls us deeper.

Transcript

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Welcome to Light in the Garden, a soft place to land, to breathe, and to remember who you truly are. I'm Lulu, and this podcast is my offering. Here we explore the quiet places where the human and the divine meet, through stories from the road, the lake where I spend many hours, and the long path of my own becoming. Each episode is simply a companion for your heart. I'm so very, very glad you're here. About a year ago I was on the Gulf Coast near St. Petersburg Beach in Florida. I was staying in the cottage of a friend of mine in a little community called Pass Agrill Passagrill. Odd name I know, but breathtakingly beautiful. It was very early in the morning, the kind of morning when the sun is still deciding whether to rise, and the world feels soft and quiet, calm, peaceful and welcoming. The sky was breaking free from the indigo of early dawn, and a soft pink sky was sneaking in. The breeze was light and easy and the white sand stretched out from me in both directions. No one else shared the beach with me on that magical morning. I was standing at the edge of the water when I noticed a dolphin moving along the shoreline, not far out, close enough that I could see the arc of his back when he surfaced, shiny and dark and perfect, blowing air out every so often, and I was captivated. And I had the strangest feeling. It felt like he had come for me. Now I know dolphins have their own lives and their own business to attend to, but in that moment it felt like an invitation from the deep, as if he were saying, Come on in. So I did. I stepped into the water slowly at first, the way we do when we're not quite sure how cold it will be. Of course he didn't come much closer. Dolphins have boundaries after all. Plus he was clearly hunting for his breakfast, but he stayed close enough that I could see him moving deeper. When a creature as beautiful and powerful as a dolphin comes moving through the water toward you, you can't help but feel awe. The majesty of the animal alone is enough to stop you in your tracks. And as I watched him, I realized something. He wasn't inviting me to the shoreline. He was inviting me deeper. It made me think about how many of us live most of our lives in the shallow end, ankle deep in routines and responsibilities and safe conversations. Dolphins live between worlds, the surface and the deep. Maybe the invitation isn't to abandon the surface of life, but to learn how to move between the surface and the deep with grace. But every now and then something or someone calls us deeper. It was if he were saying, Come on in, the water is warm. Have you seen the movie A Star Is Born? The new one with Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper. The song that grabs me by my heart every time I hear it is called Shallow. The question at the center of the song is simple. Are you happy living in the shallow or do you want something more? I listen to this song frequently. It reminds me again and again that I don't wish to just skim along the surface of life. There is surface living versus living in the depths. It is a choice. It's not accidental like falling off the curb. What lives beneath the surface? What beckons me deeper? There is an invisible connection of networks beneath the water. Life supporting life beneath the surface. What I can actually see with my eye is vastly different from the invitations I almost miss. What actually exists beneath the surface, the surface of life. Sometimes the most powerful invitations in life don't arrive as instructions, right? They arrive as beauty, quietly beckoning us deeper. When I first became enamored with the lake down the street from my home, I would visit it and wander almost daily close to the shore. Interestingly, each day brought fresh discoveries. The migration of birds made bird watching exciting and fun. The movement of the water shifted the water lilies as they bloomed and died. The clarity of the water revealed on some days, turtles and gaiters and tiny minnows. I wondered what else lived beneath the surface in that dark and mysterious biosphere. Some ancient creature that was thought to be extinct or a relative of the Loch Ness monster. What I did know was that the lake and all bodies of water really, except for a swimming pool, hold their secrets close. My desire to plumb the depths became the gateway to examine my own depths. A particular and dramatic event happened years ago when I finally said yes to the call of ministry, the final piece, the great hoorah, and it happened at this very lake. I had just left church after a Sunday service and was weeping all the way home. Years of saying no had finally come to an end. I changed clothes and headed to the lake. Standing at the end of the pier I gazed into the water, hoping that Loch Ness monster would arise out of the water and rescue me from the trial I imagined I was signing up for. But instead, in that moment, I saw without seeing anything at all, that I was being turned inside out or would be. And somehow or other I was okay with it. I knew that Lulu, the girl I had believed myself to be, was transforming, growing, and evolving into something brand new. And just like that dark water beneath my feet under that pier, I had no need to see that transformation in that moment. It would happen slowly over time. For me, seeking depth has allowed me to become more vulnerable, something I strongly avoided previously. Deeper living has allowed me to actually pursue connections with others, especially strangers who prior to my slow transformation I vehemently avoided. It has allowed me to slow down enough to catch sight of phenomenal beauty that surrounds me and rest in it for a while rather than snap a pick and run on. Like, you know, the dolphin. I've noticed something in my own life. When I stay on the surface of things, rushing from task to task, I lose contact with a lot of what matters. Connections with other people and with the other than human world around me. What I long for and what I keep returning to is a kind of vital awareness. The simple knowing that I am alive and connected to spirit. I learned that my awareness must be aware of itself. When I lose that awareness of spirit, I begin to lose my awareness of everything else too. Dolphins and hawks, eagles, ladybugs, horses, katy dids, even the beloved people in my life. I'd rather live awake to all of it. And sometimes I think about that morning on the beach. The dolphin moving easily between the surface and the deep, rising for air, and then disappearing again into the water. Maybe that's the invitation of a human life too. Not to abandon the surface of life, but to remember that there is always something deeper waiting for us. Come on in. The water is warm. An invitation to let this teaching land in your body, not just your mind. I call it step out of the shallows. Take a moment now to settle wherever you are. Allow your body to soften. If it feels comfortable, gently close your eyes. Take a slow breath in through your nose and release it slowly through your mouth. Again, breathing in and exhaling out. Let the day fall away for just a moment. Now imagine that you're standing at the edge of the water. Perhaps it's the ocean at dawn. Perhaps it's a quiet lake. Or perhaps it's a place from your own life that holds the feeling of peace. The air is soft. The light is gentle, and the water stretches out before you. In the distance, something moves beneath the surface. A presence. A quiet reminder that life is always deeper than what we first see. You take a small step forward. Your feet touch the water. It's warmer than you expected. Another breath. Another small step. You do not have to rush. You do not have to force anything. Simply allow yourself to feel the invitation to move gently deeper into life. Deeper into awareness. Deeper into the quiet presence of spirit that surrounds you and lives within you. Notice how the water, like spirit, holds you. Notice how life itself is holding you. There's nothing you need to become right now. Nothing you need to prove. Simply breathe. Simply be. And remember that the deeper currents of life are always here, quietly supporting you, guiding you, inviting you. Take one more slow breath. And in your own time, gently return your awareness to the room around you. Carry this quiet depth with you as you move through the rest of your day. And remember, sometimes life is simply inviting us to step a little deeper. Come on in. The water is warm. And as we close our time together today, remember my friends, even in the ordinary moments of your day, there is always light waiting in the garden. Until next time, take good care of yourselves and of each other. And finally, if you find value here and would like to spend some one-on-one time with me, I offer spiritual companionship. Sometimes it helps to have a steady presence beside you as you listen for your own inner wisdom and find your way forward. Until next time, thank you for joining me.