My soul has wept. Which began in the early moments of life. The water that pours out of my body is contaminated from many things. Such things that were out of my control as a young boy. I seeked other bodies of water to swim in, to escape from the swampy lake that has derived from my tears, only to find that swimming in others personal lake hurt me as well. I did so while attempting to swim and grab hold of that elusive sensation. Inner peace.
One day, on my walk for solitude. A voice yelled out.
“Try swimming in your own lake! ”
The voice was low, yet light, kind, but sharp. Sharp enough to cut through the thick winds that winter afternoon like a titanium knife slicing through cranberry sauce.
“I don’t know who you are, but — — well my lake is contaminated” I responded surprised that I even felt the need to answer this mysterious voice.
“ It is your personal lake correct?” the voice asked.
“ Yes?” I answer
“Well — why must you seek other bodies of water? Nothing is more beautiful than the one you have been gifted.”
I didn’t respond, hoping this voice would get on with its day and spend its time speaking with someone else.
Continuing to swim in others lakes, even while fully aware of the pain it brought on, drained me after doing so for the next few weeks. To restore energy, I took another walk for solitude.
“How is everything going with your swimming?” The voice asked. I had forgotten about the strange voice, but again I felt compelled to respond, neglecting to question who this voice was and what it wanted with me.
“ It has been draining.”
“I see, try swimming in your own water.” The voice responds, jogging my memory with the details of our initial encounter.
“Look, I told you, my water is contaminated, it’s far worse to swim in it. You wouldn’t understand. Yes it is my lake, but I tried to swim in it and its something I never want to take part in again.” I responded defensively.
The voice fell silent. Oddly enough, this time around I was hoping for a response.
“I mean, everyone I know swims in other peoples water.” I continued, awkwardly attempting to justify my lashing out.
“And do you believe they are happier swimming in the lake of others?” The voice finally responded.
“Well — no, I mean, many of their lakes are much smaller than mine and prettier. I don’t understand how they cannot see this.” I responded.
“That does not make their lake any more or less contaminated.” The voice responded.
“Take a swim in your own lake. It will be far more painful than swimming in others, but after swimming to every end, you will find what you are looking for.” The voice said.
“But I don’t want to — — well if I do it, will my lake change colors, instead of looking so murky. I mean like a pretty blue or turquoise.” I asked.
“ Surely in your eyes, but there is no certainty that others will see the beauty of it, nor is it any of your business. Your responsibility is only to see the beauty of your own personal lake, but the only way to accomplish this is by swimming…”