7.1.18 Fishing lines. My garden.
I used to think of the day as a line to pull myself along, hand over fist. Life was there to be gained or found, inch by inch, with safety somewhere at the end if I could just keep pulling myself forward, slowly, surely. One hand, then the other. Man overboard.
It can still feel like that. The fact that the heave-ho is literal in my world doesn't help. Floors, tabletops, walls: movement is a forwards clamber requiring both hands, life a horizontal climbing wall. My invisible grappling line runs from surface to surface, task to task and I pull and pull until the day is done. So easy then to feel the ground slip away entirely and be left only with the sight of that line through dark water and think that must be the way I had to go.
One of the most helpful things I ever learned was that you can think about the same thing in more than one way. All interpretations can be true, or none of them, but we are not characters in a book and our story does not have to be fixed to a page. We do not have to decide what something is in our life and then stick to those words. Perhaps, maybe - what else could be true?
I flip the image in my head. Perhaps instead, I don't pull myself through the day, but pull the day to me?
Maybe I sit, a genial fisherman in exactly the right place, lines taut, and with patient, hopeful hands, draw life and activity and purpose to my seat: the washing up, my fountain pen, an unmade bed, a laughing child. Grief and heartache too when that is on the line: all things and everything. Bob and bite and reel and find, my only work to bring the things that belong to me closer to where I am and take what's next into my waiting lap. I turn them over, put my fingers to work where needed, hold them to the light and try and see what I have here.
I don't know which I really am, fisherman or drowning soul. I could be both or neither, but I know which story I prefer to tell today.
Here are my catches then, still fresh. Perhaps if I lay them all out in a line, shining in the close of day, perhaps I can show you something good.