Searching

A clear lake, the Sea of Galilee, with palm trees in the forefront and faded hills in the background

I was surrounded by the most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen. I felt nothing but calm and wonder. My eyes wide open, my breathing passages naturally closed. I was immersed in the gentle, sweet waters of the lake, looking around at the beautiful green, wanting to absorb it into me.

I don't know how long I was under water when I felt strong hands reach for me, strong arms surround my little body, holding me and lifting me up, out of that calm green. Away from the wonder. Away from quiet and into commotion.

I was pulled up into sunlight, harsh and bright. My calm was gone, as was my wonder. All I could feel was anger, verging on rage. I had no words to describe it. I did not know the words.

The quiet, seemingly endless, green, I felt, contained knowledge and peace. I was there, and then I wasn't.

I was now in my father's arms. He pulled me out of the waters of the Sea of Galilee. I was about two years old. I had been lying on an air mattress when my dog, wanted to say hi, flipped it over. Into the water, I went. Into the green, and the absolute calm.

I have been searching for that shade of green ever since. Searching for the calm, and the knowledge and wonders I know it possesses.

Post-script At two years old I nearly drowned in that lake; at about six years old I learned to swim there, submerging myself on purpose and swimming toward sound: my aunt's bangle bracelets gingling sound waves through the water.