He was afraid of the water...

His mother confessed, reluctantly, that the father might have been a bit impatient with him at times.

The result, a boy who quivered and screamed at the slightest suggestion he enter the pool.

I was teaching swimming and springboard diving that summer at a city college aquatic program in the valley. Maybe it was because I had never seen such fear in someone, that I now recall that incident.

I told the boy he didn’t have to go into the pool, that instead he could sit by the fence and watch. He seemed comfortable with that suggestion. For each two-week session, I had about five classes, an hour each, with students ranging from toddlers to seniors in their respective classes.

By the third day, after watching the other kids from the fence, he seemed a bit less apprehensive. I suggested that he come closer and sit by the edge. Reluctant at first, he came closer and sat near the side of the pool. Eventually he put his feet in the water and then started playing on the first step.

I worked with the other kids on their "superman float", and swimming stroke. I would lead them to sing "Row, row, row, your boat", while sitting on the steps at the shallow end, to get into a rhythm for practicing the paddle-like aspect of the stroke. But also, to make the experience more enjoyable...merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream...

By the end of the first week the boy was practicing what he had watched us do, on his own, on the first and second step of the shallow end of the pool. Most importantly, he was having fun.

On Monday of the second week he was working toward holding on to the side of the pool while practicing his kicking. On Tuesday, he was kicking up a storm. By mid-week he could push off the side and into my arms. By Thursday he pushed off from me to the side of the pool. By Friday, the last day of the session, his mom took a picture of her son, and me, smiling and jumping, hand in hand, off the diving board. It is a great picture. It almost looks like we are walking on water.

He came back for the second session and after two weeks he was jumping off the high board on his own.

I learned then, quite dramatically and demonstratively, the power of teaching in healing.

How Do I Heal?

I found this haiku during a time of healing. On first reading, I overlooked the significance of this simple verse. I sort of laughed at the impossible image:

"Snail climb Mt. Fuji..."

A snail trying to climb Mt. Fuji?!!!
No way! Impossible! Can’t be done!
Too hard, too high, too demanding!
A no feet, feat?! Come on!

"...Slowly, ...very slowly."

I laughed again at the obvious slowness of this minute creature attempting to...

But wait! What is the real implication here?
Does it really suggest the impossibility of the situation, and/or its absurdity?
Not at all...It does though suggest...no...it makes implicit, accomplishment.

The damn snail climbed Mt. Fuji!!!

How Do I Heal?
or
"A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Volcano"

Scratches and minor abrasions take a few days to heal.
Colds and flu, maybe a couple of weeks.
A broken bone, about six weeks.
A broken heart, depends...
A broken life ...?
Hmmmmm!

No matter what they say or do, friends, well-wishers, strangers, books, music, exercise, lectures, discussion groups, professional help, religion, advice... doesn’t work! At best, it helps only temporarily. I know for sure since I experienced them all. Temporary isn’t a cure. It only leads to a false or mistaken sense of closure...

Nothing matters,
Nothing works,
Nothing helps.

It is like being on the worst roller coaster ride you can imagine, the worst; and there is nothing you nor anyone else can do until the ride is over.

I remember feeling "indifferent" after the divorce papers were served to me. I was thinking ..."Is this it! Is this all there is to the shattering of every dream, thought and hope I had for family, career, and future?!"

For two weeks I went through the reflex motions of going to work and doing the usual daily routines. Then "it" happened: the storm after the calm. I crashed. Sitting at my desk at work, I went into a state of oblivion. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything. I was in trouble. I took sick leave,then resigned. I remember vaguely, days and nights lying in bed watching the fan above going round and round; like my mind and life, going nowhere.

After a few days, I forced myself to get up and out. I was constantly in pain and discomfort. The room was too stuffy, the sun was too hot, the wind was too strong, noises were too loud, the quiet too unnerving. I felt ill to my stomach most of the time; everything seemed "not right" and not quite real.

I remember walking on the beach picking up broken glass, thinking that I could do this forever and not pick up all the broken pieces...

"Until death do us part", took on new meaning for me... I became obsessed with ways of ending my life ("Forgive me dear God, for I know not what to do.") I contemplated and approached numerous possibilities... Yet each had a major drawback; I would be leaving a body behind for someone else to deal with. Not good.

Then, I came up with the perfect solution... The perfect out; no body, no mess, no evidence. One last single excruciating moment of pain, then nothing.

I was on my way to the volcano, when something that a dear friend had said to me came to mind, "If you kill yourself, I will never speak to you again!" Not long before, he had praised me for living in Hawaii, having a good job, a young wife and a beautiful new son. "On top of the world, Ma!!!", was I. Now every man’s basement was my ceiling. Mention hell and I can say, "Been there, done that!".

I was driving for a couple of hours, in this surrealistic landscape of the Big Island, when I came upon a sign, "road closed". The southern access to Kilauea, the active volcano in Hawaii, had been closed due to a recent lava flow over the road.

My final determination to get off the roller coaster, before the ride was over, failed. What I have learned since that near fatal journey eight years ago, is that in life something can always be done about a situation; but in death, nothing can be done.

And...if it doesn’t destroy you, it will make you stronger. Healing is a process that takes time. How long, depends on the extent of the damage, or the length of the roller coaster ride...

So, how do I heal? Like the haiku:

"Snail climb Mt. Fuji
Slowly, very slowly."

Healing is a monumental accomplishment and it takes time.