Treading Water
Anyone who’s ever taken an advanced swimming test knows the drill. Along with demonstrating proficiency in all types of swimming strokes and diving techniques, the would-be deep-water swimmer must also show that she has acquired one simple but vital skill: the ability to tread water.
When treading water, there’s no forward movement involved. It’s basically an underwater dog paddle designed to anchor the swimmer in place. As long as his head shows above the surface of the water, he is succeeding. Going nowhere but staying alive.
There are times in a person’s life when it feels as if she’s doing the same thing.
We all love the forward-moving times. I’m talking about periods when you feel like you’re advancing, even flying, on all fronts. The accomplishments pile up, the accolades are forthcoming, and the satisfying milestones fly by. You’re not merely a bona-fide member of the human race, but a member in good standing. Life is good.
And then there are the other times. They can last for a short interval or stretch out excruciatingly long. The issues you struggle with can be trivial or monumental. But I’d venture to say that there comes a time or a situation in most people’s lives when they find their forward movement blocked. They want to make headway. They long to cross the pool with firm, confident strokes. But they lack strength, or direction, or both. Maybe all they’re missing is a bit of good mazel. Either way, they’re struggling but not getting anywhere. They are essentially treading water.
If a person is drowning in debt, for instance, it may be all he can do to stay afloat. In fact, the term “keeping one’s head above the water” means just that: remaining solvent. Instead of building and growing his financial base, he is forced to engage in a desperate, day-to-day dog paddle for survival. It’s like racing down a track at breakneck speed, for the dubious privilege of standing still.
Other challenges can lock us just as firmly in our watery place. A difficult relationship can block our forward movement and dull our optimism. A problematic colleague can make every workday a nightmare. An unfair boss, ditto. The couple next door who seems to encroach upon your territory and property at every turn. The neighbor on your other side with whom you can’t seem to ever see eye to eye.
You want to grow in your relationships, or at least achieve a workable understanding with the other party. Instead, you are busy working as hard as you can merely to keep treading water. Trying to stay on top of the waves that are threatening to pull you under.
Even our blessings can feel like a treadmill. The colicky baby is a classic example. Or the child who is in your face all day long, whining or chattering or presenting a never-ending stream of questions that demand your endless input. The teenager who challenges your every pronouncement. The spouse or sister or cousin who seems clueless about what makes you tick. We want to be the wise adult leading our offspring calmly into the future. We long to be the supportive wife, the understanding sibling, the perfect neighbor. How nice it would be to feel, after all these years, that we’re swimming strongly in the right direction, making genuine progress toward the distant shore of our ideal self-image.
Instead, our ragged nerves lead us paddling in frantic circles, seeking an outlet that’s not there, prodding us to scream and shout and tear our hair out. Never underestimate the power of an overtaxed nervous system. Even something as innocent as a family member’s persistent cough can irritate us to the point of insanity when our nerves have already been stretched as thin as they’ll go.
And so, we tread the water of our own psyches, doing our best to keep our heads above the surface despite the downward pull of our emotions.
Doggedly doing the dog paddle beneath the waves.
Just trying to survive.
Seeking Salvation
What are the options when you’re working so terribly hard just to stay afloat?
Surely, the optimum solution would be to strengthen our muscles enough so that they can carry us safely to shore. Never forgetting the Motive Power that keeps us all moving, we slowly develop the inner resources to rise above our own limitations or those of our circumstances. We grow strong enough to swim and leave the treading-in-place behind.
Once we’ve taught ourselves to swim, the challenge becomes not just keeping our heads above water, but actively moving to reach a fixed and chosen destination. To stop treading water means to re-enter the world of achievement and accomplishment. The hard work and tefillah that goes into this transformation lends strength to our puny arms, helping us cross the waves to the peaceful harbor we’ve longed for.
Sometimes, though, we don’t feel strong enough to cope on our own. We may lack the support, the resources, or the emotional stamina to toughen our skins and to harden our muscles. Much as we’d like to, we simply can’t swim, can’t make it to shore under our own steam.
In such a case, we look to find help from the outside. A lifeline tossed our way by a kindly sailor on a passing boat. A chance to stop treading water, rest our weary limbs and finally catch our breath. Seeking that helping hand is option number two.
The one thing we don’t do is give up. Despair is not, and has never been, a watchword of the Jewish people.
Pain, yes. Anguish, certainly. Desperation, unfortunately. Our history, both nationally and individually, is pockmarked with conflict, struggle and tragedy. The waters we tread are often storm-tossed and dangerous. But giving in to fear and helplessness has never been our way. As a people, we simply do not know the meaning of surrendering to fate, of standing still and letting the waters close over our heads. Drowning is not an option. Our watchword is that famous injunction from Above: You shall choose life!
And so, we choose to go on living, even when the waters around us become harder and harder to negotiate. Even when our arms and legs are growing weary to the point of numbness. Even when we are fed up with trying so hard just to survive, hiding our scrabbling arms and legs under the waves while presenting a carefree face to the world.
We choose to live, even if living means treading water for a while. Because as long as our heads are above the surface, we can breathe the air and soak in the sun of Hashem’s beautiful world. As long as our limbs can move, we hope and dream of a better day. Whether the struggle is on the outside or the inside, whether challenges we face involve others, ourselves or our Maker, hope is our most potent weapon and our greatest blessing. That’s why we never let it go.
Choosing life means remembering that the water we’re treading is not infinite. That the coastline lies somewhere just out of sight. And that the beginnings of salvation can be as close as our next thought, our next interaction, or our next prayer.
