Where can I go from Your presence?

You call me Brave. You call me Beloved.

Those are names far from my mind. Like Peter, I do not live up to Your name for me; I fall and stumble, the stones give way beneath my feet as I quickly move the other forward. Quickly, however, is a relative term. My legs feel worn from the swim back to shore. Lactic acid burns, the muscles using up the available oxygen in the bloodstream. My wetsuit is waterlogged and heavy – a natural, but still embarrassing, mix of pee and seawater.

I stumble onto dry land, breathless and relieved. Shaken by the nausea I'm fighting to keep at bay and the many failed attempts of equalising at depth – depth, being the generic term of being underwater and in no way reflective of the word "deep".

You call me Brave. You call me Beloved.

Names that I forget when my mind is pre-occupied with the buildup of pressure in my ear and the anticipation of pain that will come with failure. No baby pulls! Poomp! Encouragement, coaching that flies past my beleaguered mind.

The next day, on a successful dive, I come up smiling, surprised and comforted – I am getting the hang of this. See, it's all up here, she smiles reassuringly as she taps my head with her snorkel. It is, I know. My fears are many.

Brave is a name that is hard to remember. And so is Beloved.
[Coaching with Dabot]


You call me Brave. You call me Beloved.

These are my names that I will learn to own. [Trepidation as I prepare to go home.]


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Accepting the name brave is disconcerting. It means I acknowledge the litany of fears that lurk within.

"Be brave!" When the discomfort builds, don't hesitate. Relax, and pull.

Freedive training has been enlightening to say the least. And it ended well;


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