Skipping stones.

I can see myself as a smallish stone. Flattened over time and through experience.

Refined enough by life thus far, a heft and shape that became ready.

Ready to be hurled. Chucked. Skipped in big bounces. 

In my current predicament I'm aware of the depth and I understand that I could absolutely land the next arc just wrong. I'm aware that the shore is far behind and that there is no going back now.

I could sink, yes, into a flood of fear and frustration and failing. 

But something tells me that the throw was so expert, the angle and speed of the toss were so perfect, that any sinking would be my own choice. 

Like as long as I let go and lean into the natural spin, the uncomfortable bounce... As I completely surrender control of my trajectory and totally trust the process...

I can defy gravity, landing each silky skip along the surface.

I see the jumps becoming shorter and smoother until it's hardly a bounce anymore. It's more of a rapid roll. Then I'm coasting as if on ice.

Is this what it is like to walk on water?