To My Unborn Child, Be Like Water


Dear kid,

An interesting thought has parked itself in my mind: The more experience I gather, the more I must unlearn. I cannot remember wanting to by myself when I was a little boy — I simply was just me. Effortless. Organic.

Today, it feels like I’ve got to perform mental yoga on the hour every hour just to keep from going sideways. The flooding freedom to do whatever I choose feels like a mountain of sand piled onto my shoulders. The desire to do everything and be everything — it’s an awful thought of impossibility.

The simple state of water reminds me of how I should hold myself up and it’s wisdom I want to pass onto you.

Here’s the lesson: Be like water.

Often times we mistake the color of water as blue. When it reality it has no color. It’s clear. This is because water reflects everything it comes in contact with. Interestingly — whether the ocean, river or street puddle — water takes on the image of the world without comprising itself. It remains.

And as simpleminded as this reads, it’s a skill that requires deliberate practice, especially in a world that attempts to tangle you in 1,000 knots.

I encourage this way of life for you because I don’t want you to become so open minded that your brain falls out.

You’re going to have to deal with love, anger, humility, joy, resentment, courage, laziness, gluttony, ambition, failure, and success all in one swoop and still function.

P.S. We bought a glider last night. To me, it’s simply a supercharged rocking chair. Momma insisted.

With love,