I’m staring at a pool. Not one made of tile or concrete, but one that was formed naturally. It is unique like a snowflake, shaped in ways only the water it holds determines. Such a small pool of water, too small for the title of pond, too big to be called a puddle. I’ve been watching it for as long as I can remember. Watching it evolve. The water has been pushing the stone boundaries outward, ever persistent and determined to continue expanding. The life it protects inside, grows and changes. I see something different every day. It seems to have moods, reactions to its surroundings. Sometimes, it’s still and calm. So calm, I can get lost in the eyes of the face that stares back at me, or the vivid details of the diverse life that calls it home. The peace and tranquility spreads like it’s contagious. Other times, I watch as it fights invisible storms, winds that blow beneath the surface. The waves evicting its possessions without prejudice. My heart breaks, watching what was once full of life, part of a larger entity, be alone. Without the protection of the pool, it will die. Lately, the pool has been in chaotic turmoil. All life it carries is ejected, to wither, and eventually become what was. It’s hard to leave such amazing things separated from their natural environment, knowing how much was invested in growing them to their beautiful maturity. But I know when things are caught in the storms and removed, I can let them go. What it is replaced with is always stronger and more beautiful than what was there before.
It’s been storm after storm for as long as I can remember. The calm, still water, has become harder and harder to recall. I would use the quiet moments to recharge and renew focus. Without the tranquility, I’ve been looking for comfort in the violence, rarely do I succeed. The constant turmoil is exhausting. I reached a point of complete hopelessness. Multiple failed efforts to save any pool inhabitants are washed away. I was ready to walk away, give up completely and the water became unnaturally calm. The only evidence of the battle that existed moments ago was a small ripple from the very center. Barely noticeable. As I watched, the pool’s clear water faded into a murky greenish-brown – opaque, swallowing everything. The tiny ripple took shape, a perfect twirling circle. The mild swirling extended it’s reach and at the pools edge, pushed itself back inward. Gaining strength with every ring that touched the boundaries, the water became black. Foam outlines evidence of the strength that the quiet spiral carried. The white froth against the black water made intentions even clearer; drilling towards the center. The swirling continued relentlessly, and eventually, the last survivors of the pool were stripped away and completely destroyed. I stared, wondering why the whirlpool wasn’t showing any sign of tiring. Everything had been removed, so why would it continue. As I watched, I realized, some things were still there, in the deepest, darkest corners, hiding. Tirelessly, it spun, never letting up speed or intensity. Eventually, the remaining evidence of the past float to the top, and were flung out like a slingshot. When the last small stubborn growth was clear of the boundaries, the whirlpool slowed down. Spinning, turned into gentle waves, then to swells, finally still. The bottom of the pool settled, the water clearer than I ever had seen it before. What I saw was incredible. The walls were clear, every scrubbed dark corner, reflected the light back to the surface. There was no algae, no fungus, nothing growing or clinging inside at all.bI looked closer at the surface, trying to see anything left. I had been watching and even helping this pool for a long time. All the things I had grown to love, nurtured to life and maturity, everything I was proud of because of its beauty was gone. Then I realized when I stared at the glassy surface, that the only thing I could see at all, was me.
Everything that used to be in the pool had been blocking, altering my image. At times, it was impossible to even see my reflection. I let my pool get out of control. Instead of trying to remove the core or cause, I was adding more so hopefully no one could see the wild-uncontrolled parts. I understood now, the best place to build stronger, better, and more spectacular, is with a solid foundation. I have a second chance to make my pool anything I want it to be. This time I’m going to do it right.