Cold Plunge Sunday

Somewhere in the continuum

Of Summer into Winter

The Fall swim in the lake

Becomes the cold plunge

Somewhere in the continuum

Of despair into hope

The trudge becomes a dance

Somewhere in the continuum

Of the irreverent and reverent

The prayers become the whole path

Somewhere in the continuum

Of the drive through coffee

and the home brew with beloved

the cup becomes a sacred vessel

Somewhere in the continuum

of IV fluids and garden to table feast

the meal becomes nourishment of soul

Somewhere on the continuum

of being born and dying process

the healing becomes our creative evolution

Somewhere in this thickening of things,

this spectrum of being alive

Never just one or another

in binaries of black & white

Never just a box to check

In categories of being

Never just on the shore or in the river

Somewhere in this spectrum of being alive

There is a moment—

Perhaps in that full short breath

of the cold plunge Sunday—

When you realize with your body, heart & mind

What your soul already knows—

That you are all-of-it,

AND

You are a part of the ALL-of-It