Oh, to Live Life Like the Frog

The fish asked the frog. “How do you know that the lily pad is strong enough to hold you before you leap?”

The frog replied, “I don’t. I trust my ability to swim. So if it sinks, I swim.”

And much like the frog I move by instinct. By alignment. By feeling.

I don’t always wait for guarantees before I leap.

And sometimes the lily pads sink.

I’ve had lily pads dissolve beneath me before.

I’ve felt the drop.

The shock.

The scramble into survival mode.

For a long time, I thought that meant something was wrong.

Like I just couldn’t find solid ground.

But lately I’ve been seeing it differently.

I’ve been swimming my whole life.

What I called survival mode…

was really training mode.

Every time something shifted under me,

I adapted.

I learned.

I built the muscle.

Not just the muscle to survive but the muscle to trust myself midair.

I used to think the goal was finding the perfect, sturdy pad something that would never wobble.

Now I’m not so sure.

Maybe it was never about the pad.

Maybe it was about remembering that I can swim.

Every time it sank… I swam.

Every time I dropped… I figured it out.

Every time I thought, “I can’t do this,” I did.

That’s not chaos.

That’s strength I didn’t even realize I was building.

I don’t feel the fear the same way anymore.

If it sinks… I swim.

If it wobbles… I adjust.

If I have to leap again… I will.

Because I’ve done it before.

And that changes everything.