Pursuit of Happiness

We fight against our supernatant selves, don't we? We know what we ought to do to keep us afloat, but then we don't do it. We hide from it, sleep through it, let it go to voicemail when we see its number pop up on our smartphone, and we have no intention of listening to that message, of ever taking that call. We know how to swim, but we choose to sink instead.

We know what we shouldn't do, too, what makes us sick and weak, but then we dive right in, to feed our ego, or numb our hurt, or satisfy our flesh, or distract us from truth. We practically drown ourselves in those things, fill our pockets with deadweight, strap it to our feet and hands until we sink, sink, sink down to a dark, foreign place that wasn't made for us, where we can barely recognize our bloated, oxygen-starved selves, until it seems impossible to make our way back to the distorted surface where real air exists.

But we can. You can. Even when you're blue and bloated, sinking and sunk, there is a mystery, a promise, a hope for tomorrow that needs you to stay alive. Grab onto it, seize it with both weak, waterlogged hands, and let it pull you to the surface. Remove from your pockets the deadweights, unbind them from your hands and feet. Let them sink, while you remain on the briny surface. 

Float there then
in the sun.

Float there
and keep your head up
because you are buoyant.  

*Cover song of Kid Cudi's Pursuit of Happiness by Lydia Carmany of Canton, OH