This post is part of an experiment in which I post a short description of a meditation that I received that morning.  I do not attempt an interpretation; instead, I hope that you will be inspired to give meaning the symbols in your own way, for your own life.  Find a collection of all these posts here.  

I was rowing a tiny boat out to sea, rowing hard, rowing urgently. Behind me land was a smudge on the edge of vision. The waves were choppy, the sky blustery.

A school of silver fish raced under me, surrounding the boat on all sides. Some leapt out of the water; they looked at me, they called to me. I jumped in after them.

The sea was dark and quiet and cool. I swam down, surrounded by the silver fish. Deep, deep below the surface, I saw an outcropping of undersea rock, long-frozen lava. Something was there, smashed and splintered on the crag.

A ship — a sailboat. Its sails long since dissolved, its white hull grimy, I swam up to it and rubbed away some of the slime.

There was the ship’s name: Endurance.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 4th, 2007 at 11:04 am and is filed under daily meditation. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.