The Water Isn’t As Deep As You Think It Is

The cinematography was quite convincing.

We are transported back in time, April 1912 to be exact, 325 nautical miles south-southeast off the coast of Newfoundland. It is here in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic we find the wreckage of the Titanic, and in this iconic scene we see Rose floating upon a wooden door with Jack holding on tightly, his body almost fully submerged in the bitterly cold ocean, an ocean which would soon claim Jack’s life and the lives of hundreds more.

Then the director yelled “Cut!”.

The scene was over, Jack stood up, Rose got off the door, and together they walked to the edge of the tank, stepped out, and toweled off.

Apparently the water wasn’t as deep as we thought it was.

The power of cinematography.

On our own level, we are all talented cinematographers in our own right. We can be quite good at convincingly transporting ourselves into our own dramatic scenes, the painful and fearful emotional waters where we, too, may believe our only option is to cling ever so tightly to some sort of emotional flotation device we feel we need to keep us afloat and in a position to be somehow rescued, someday.

Maybe the water isn’t as deep as we think it is.

Letting go of what we tell ourselves is keeping us afloat is much easier said than done. There’s a reason why we cling as tightly as we do. Many who’ve convinced themselves they can’t swim have worked to convince us we can’t swim either. So we cling. Some will self-servingly work to exploit our expressed need to hold on as a method of relationship control and emotional confinement, also convincing us we can’t swim. So we cling. Because we’ve always clung. Both scenarios simply perpetuate our inner script that keeps us from letting go of what we know isn’t serving us and setting ourselves free. What we see as an emotional flotation device is actually an emotional anchor keeping us stuck in the frigid yet familiar waters of our lives.

The water isn’t as deep as we think it is.

Letting go and jumping into the water will certainly make a few waves, especially with those who’ve benefited from keeping you exactly where they’ve always wanted you to stay. In the water, though, you’ll soon realize the only one who was ever going to rescue you was you.

Not to save you from the water.

But to save you from believing that you ever needed to be rescued in the first place.

Photo by Todd Quackenbush on Unsplash