Dear Journal,
We went to the beach one day when I was about six or seven years old, it was one of those days where the sun was just right, water warm, and the smell of burning wood and hamburger kept you coming back from wrestling in sand. A bunch of my playmates were there, and they wanted to go for a swim. I forgot to bring a swimsuit, so I said I couldn’t. They told me to jump in anyways with my clothes on, I did, and we all laughed at the spontaneity and hilarity of it. I decided that I could do better than them all, that I could swim farther then them all. So I tried, but the farther out I went, the heavier my clothes became, I was slowly sinking into the deep parts, tugged by riptides and afraid. I tried to call out for help, but no one was paying attention, my plan to beat them all was foolish anyway apparently, and I sank down. I realized that I could be free of the sinking if I lost my clothing and swam naked, like two fishes tied together loosed, like a rabbit across fields, I would be free. I fought against the clothes, gasping for air, until I was finally free. I came up for air. No one was around, I was so far out. I kept going, diving down and twirling and letting out bubbles and beholding all the beauties of the ocean with my two young eyes. I embraced the deep blue womb. I forgot about all others. I thought to myself that I would never go back. A lifeboat found me, but I was so ecstatic and unafraid, that the lifeguard looked at me, and at his partner, and in bewilderment said, “Son, your family needs you back,” and I was taken ashore, naked, on a yellow life raft.
Nothing has changed. The clothes are my dogmas, and the great womb is the great lion heart of God.///