When I was a kid we lived on a largish inland lake and we’d go water-skiing most summer evenings after Dad got home from work.  We had a little blue boat with a 35 horse power outboard engine and all four of us plus Dad and sometimes Mom would pile in the boat along with our skis and life vests, towels and other debris.  We’d ski till it got dark, then we’d head home exhausted, sopping wet and very happy.

Lots of time has passed, I haven’t lived on a lake in thirty years and now if I’m lucky I might ski once a year.  Sometimes not even that.  It has become more intimidating, less familiar and much scarier to try.  When I was a teenager I could stand on one foot ankle deep in the water, ski on the other foot resting on the surface, yell “hit it!” and pop up behind the boat with no problem.  I’d land back at the same beach barely damp.

Now we ski in deep water and I struggle to get the unfamiliar ski on my foot as the life jacket floats up around my ears and the ski rope slides by behind me and the boat idles as everyone waits on me to get ready.  I panic a bit as the line pulls taut and I’m not at all sure I’m going to be able to heft my larger self out of the water.  Different boat.  Different ski.  Different me.

This week I went skiing with one of my brothers.  I was kind of afraid to try, sure that I wouldn’t be able to get up, but it was just him and me, and the water was a sheet of glass, what we used to call “water-ski water” when we were young.  So I decided it would never again be a better time to try.  Into the water I went, but two attempts later I couldn’t get myself up.

Lucky my brother is ingenious and he gave me a different, flatter, less competitive ski.  Part of me rebelled because I had always been able to use the fancy competitive ski, but part of me was resigned to accept the changes in me that meant I was less athletic.  And of course part of me thought that if I couldn’t get up on this “beginner” ski, well… I won’t go there.   But even though I was tired from being dragged twice along behind the boat, I tried a third time.  And guess what?  YES!  I popped right up! *

It was magical.  Nothing but flat water, mountains and clouds reflected as if in a  mirror, nobody else out there but us.  It’s as close as I’ll ever get to flying like a bird.  You float effortlessly through the images of trees and clouds, soaring across the water toward freedom.  It’s a feeling that is almost indescribable. 

So here’s the lesson to be learned from water-skiing:

Sometimes if you just hang on you can fly.  And sometimes you have to let go in order to regain your freedom.   The feeling can’t be bought;  if you find yourself in a position to experience it – do it.

Even if you’re really really afraid.

*disclaimer:  these aren’t pictures of ME skiing, these are my two brothers who went skiing on a previous day this week.  It’s so much fun to watch them!  And I had my camera on a stupid low resolution and didn’t realize it…so they’re grainy…but you get the idea…right?  🙂