They sold headstones directly in front of the place where I took swimming lessons as a child.  We drove past them to get into the driveway.  Some youth learn to swim in playful eagerness.  This wasn’t the case for me.

Oh I could doggie paddle, fetch a ring on the shallow end, and pee in the water unnoticeably with the best of them.  I just wasn’t much for crossing the rope where one could feel the bottom slant away.  Leaving the pool made my legs feel like they were wearing concrete galoshes, a feeling that lingered all the way out to the end of the diving board.

There was a bikini clad college girl that instructed us.  She’d tread water in front of the board, and point to the spot she wanted you to jump to.  Seeing I was nervous, she pointed to a spot right next to her.

Seeing as how I was nervous, I tried to jump into her lap.  My hand got a hold of the center of her top, and my momentum and those concrete galoshes took the top to her waist.  I managed to survive as the neighbor kid behind me enjoyed the highlight of his young life.

I have no idea what test certifies you as a swimming instructor, but saving a young boy, while treading water as you put a top on, is unlikely to be a bad substitute.

Yes, being worried can obscure the opportunities life presents us with.  It’s hardly as effective, though, as being comfortable.

At 43 I’m still wont to feel as though life is supposed to be easier and more comfortable.  Yet at 43 I’m continually reminded that if what I wanted was ease and comfort, there is an off ramp of some kind or another every mile, thanks to modern technology and affordable booze.  But if we want to get what we want, difficulty and discomfort is what the way looks like most of the time.

Times that don’t delight us, may serve to delight others.

That instructor, pointing in the water, was entirely comfortable.  After me, she learned something she could have learned no other way.  She probably wasn’t quite as comfortable after that, and I bet that turned out to be a good thing for everyone except the neighbor kid.

I have no idea how you get certified as a life coach, but letting people know most of life is trying to do your job while treading water and keeping your top on probably has surely got to be part of it.

But what do I know?  I still can’t swim.