When I was around 10-12, I had an experience where I thought I would drown. I panicked and began sucking air into my lungs. Soon, my vision went black, and in the next breath, I was overwhelmed with peace. That allowed me the mental space to think of what I needed to do even as my arms and legs felt heavier and heavier.
This poem was a fairly early attempt (early 20s) to compare that day with some of how meditative acceptance has felt to me. It never turns out how you expect it. One of the other things I've noticed is that previous traumatization eventually raises its head in people who meditate. Although for some people it is possible to "push through" the freaking out that can occur, it makes sense to me to both understand how trauma plays in and also find the willingness to address psychological traumatization for what it is.
Having said that, I remember Rumi writing that there is a way out of the bottom of the whirlpool which leads to the ocean, and that people who merely hoped for a way out would be jealous if they knew that some of us have experienced that way. So, even with all the difficulties, with all of my disclaimers and preference for wise and consistent progress, sometimes you just get luckiest when shit gets craziest. While life, and possibly meditation can help with breaking through in unexpected ways, it usually helps to go back and figure out how to integrate such amazing moments with one's self-identity.
Do you know
how to almost drown
well?
Start with an impressive dive.
Swim deeper or farther
underwater
than ever before.
Something catches you--
in your bluegreen peace--
unawares.
An ocean current pushes you
under a rock ledge
you can't escape.
A friend, playfully, pulls you down.
Or pushes.
Peace becomes panic and
your heart is desparate.
Your mind clutches
but cannot grasp.
One time you confuse up and down,
swim madly towards the bottom.
At another, your world is only
an irresistable tugging
on your foot.
Your hands pull through water
as if your life depended on it.
It does.
You kick like anywhere is better
than nowhere.
Then, gasping.
You suck water into your lungs
as if it is life.
And it is.
That's the second surprise.
Out of fear,
you pull the water in.
It doesn't matter
why you breathe underwater.
Fear passes.
Panic returns to a deeper peace.
Your eyes searching upwards,
enclosed in a quiet blackness,
no fear in this dark. No struggle.
When you stop fighting,
the current relents. You drift.
Your friend lets go when you
let go.
The body floats to the surface on its own.
You aren't worried
about seeing
when you don't need
escape.
The water knows
which way
is up.
You wonder, and in this awed stillness,
ask, in a totally new way,
if it is worth going there.
Immersed within a moment
embraced within you,
is there anywhere to go?
There is no almost
in doing anything
well.
You already drown in
what drowns in you.
Copyright 2007 Todd Mertz