Consider the child learning to swim at the water's edge, trembling between trust and terror.

Their mind screams of drowning, yet something older than thought whispers, "Let go."

In this moment, between resistance and surrender lies the essence of existence itself.

We all stand at similar edges throughout life.

The job loss that feels like free fall. The relationship ending that threatens to drown us. The illness that pulls us into unknown depths.

Our minds craft elaborate illusions of control, building fortresses of plans and predictions.

But what if, like that child, our greatest power lies not in controlling the water but in learning to float with it?

What if our deepest fears of uncertainty, loss, and the unknown are doorways to a profound trust we've forgotten since birth?

This is unconditional faith: not blind belief, but a remembering.

Like the ocean holds everything that falls into it, perhaps life itself has always held us, even in our thrashing.

We simply forgot, somewhere between our first breath and all our learned fears, that we have always known how to float.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​