She stands on the edge of the springs. She bounces a little. Waves her arms front to back, back to front, swims them through the hot Texas morning air.
A pep-talk emerges.
“You can do this.” She closes her eyes and nods to the self-kindness fueling her launch.
She’s preparing to leap, to dive straight into Barton Springs’ aquamarine waters that boast a rejuvenating chill of 68 degrees.
Perched on the side of a sun-cloaked hill, I watch with gentle amusement as the springs’ visitors become acquainted with the cold reality of its legendary temperature. A few cautiously dip in a toe, wade in with squeals and splashes of profanity.
And then there are the courageous plungers – those who don’t bother to test the water with a timid palm or a sacrificed bare foot. These spirited springers jump right into the depths, and reemerge like bobbing seals, with complexions lit from the revitalizing shock of the icy waters and the sheer, rewarding joy of simply and sensationally seizing the moment.
She’s a courageous plunger, the young woman on the edge who swings her arms and softly counts down … one … two …
I muse on my Barton Springs style.
I fancy myself as existing in the in-between: a conscientious wader who then – with happy abandon and clear resolve– hurls myself into the glacial kingdom below.
And there, in the dark, watery stillness, the rebirth occurs.
The chilling waters circle to cradle the entirety of me.
And I let myself be held.
There’s an instantaneous clearing of all that is too heavy to carry and that was not mine to carry, a reintroduction to my body as thoughts suspend and a refreshed aliveness currents through all my systems. All the tiredness from over effort-ing – emotionally, mentally, physically -- transmuted into relaxed, embodied exuberance.
In the waters of Barton Spring, I come home to my body, I come home to my heart, I come home to myself.
Barton Springs baptizes me in the oceanic wisdom of my own divine heart. And the divine heart is the portal for consciousness to animate and revel in all the grit and grace found in being a human.
Humanity and divinity dance together, a duo that is one.
Everything is included. Everyone is included. Everybody is in.
And this sacred heart is fluent in the language of water, and this is a language I knew as a child and forgot as an adult.
I can’t recall exactly when or how I left my heart. A few individualized theories have been sketched, but the underlying theme I believe is universal: we are brutally bullied out of trusting and acting in accordance with the loving wisdom that is inherent and incarnate within us.
“How could you possibly know anything. Life is meant to be hard. It’s not THAT easy,” sneered a domineering hiss of a voice that would discredit my lightning flashes of guidance (arising from sensations, visceral visions, wise words channeled from my heart chamber), and slither doubt into my decisions, into the very choice of how I would show up and be in the world.
And I didn’t question this voice. I agreed, out of wanting to belong, not understanding the value in my sensitive and empathetic nature, and I feared thriving in my power, because I didn’t believe I was worthy of living with ease. I had given away my power. I had bought in to what the external said about me.
I retracted and revised. I rerouted, and in the trudged hardship, stumbling mishaps and destined do-overs, I would often end up interacting with and facing truths that my body and my heart had already detected.
And yet, there was grace.
There was a fiercely and beautifully loving light within myself that was continually advocating for my highest potential to be realized and achieved, that sought to protect my precious life-force energy by providing hints and insights that would lead me forward in heightened authenticity with empowered ease.
And so, I dare to choose differently, to rewire back to my original way of being – to align with the unconditional loving intelligence constantly streaming from the embodied heart.
Trusting myself became an act of self-love. Trusting myself became a revolutionary act. Trusting myself balanced the energetic waters of my heart, and this sends me to the springs.
The waters instruct me on how to live from a jubilant, healthy heart.
A heart sustained, nourished, versed in giving and in receiving, and this giving and receiving comes from an overflowing internal well.
In all my doing and going, I’ve overemphasized the external, giving all of myself in relationships and closing off my heart to myself. This caused stagnation. But gestures, and simple gestures too, when I prioritize my comfort and my care moves hydrating life-force, my own life-force back to my center, back to myself.
I’m tuning in to what sparks joy within me. I keep promises that I make to myself. Like coming here, resting here, receiving the wonder of living right here and right now.
Up on the hill, Barton Springs looks like momma nature’s heart chakra: lush forest greens flourish around the pool and the water sparkles like emeralds. The surface is in constant movement – choppy or calm waves, and in the depths there’s a profound serenity.
“Three!” the young woman dives right into the heart of that serenity.
And I hear my own call.
“Come, rest here.” I unfold from my crisscrossed apple-sauce posture and release down to the earth, letting the back of my heart contact and connect to the earth.
“Come, rest here.”
I intuitively, instinctually answer the call from the heart, and receive the support of the mother.
Again, I let myself be held. I practice the art of receiving. The back of the heart anchored and the front of the heart open to the vastness of the sky.
I revel in soul-lit embodiment.
The back of my heart is like the great bottom of the springs, a peacefulness available to me when I remember to witness the emotional waves that skip and scurry over the surface.
I honor the emotional tides, a compass to consistent self-awareness.
I don’t fight the waves, and I don’t become overwhelmed by their intensity.
And when the waves become large and I begin to get enmeshed and engaged, when the urge to retaliate, to be right and judge and self-criticize, I can recall the shimmering enlightenment available in the descent. I turn within, swim down to the cool haven of the depths and look up and watch the waves pass while remaining in embodied, attentive peace.
This is the teaching that cascades into my sunbathing consciousness.
Similar to my fellow swimmers, I stand on the edge of my own sacred heart, a heart-center that looks and feels like the replenishing vibrancy of the springs. I may hesitate before I dive in – there’s still a fear to receive that unquestioning outpouring of love.
And this is all right.
I can gratefully and gently merge in, or carefree jump. Both choices will bring me home to my watery wild and wise heart. I just need to remember that there’s a choice, and the choice is always mine to make, to take the courageous breath, to leap or lean into the heart-tides ready to guide, embrace and propel me forward in embodied ease and playful grace.