Go to the nearest body of water. Stand on the furthest point of land–the end of the dock, the bow of the boat, the lip of the shore.

Take your shoes and socks off. Squelch mud or sift sand between your toes. Feel the earth beneath the hills and valleys of your feet. Feel how it holds you, supports you, like God’s open hand.

Consider the firmament above you–its cerulean canvas or its cumulous herd or its steely shroud. Take it into you as you breathe in. Breathe out. Savor the air’s body within your body like a communion wafer on your tongue. This is given for you.

Now, with a toe or finger, touch the water. Your own watery body hearkens to it. Deep calls to deep. Place a drop on your tongue and taste its tang or funk or delicious purity, harboring life and giving life. This is poured out for you.

If you are truly brave and wish to feel the force of your life rushing through you, go into the water. Cannonball or wade. Dip or dangle. Feel the surge of blood in your veins, the baptismal welcome of the water that cleanses and transforms. Be new, knowing that all around you, on the breeze, in the lap of waves on shore, in the quiet swaying of living things, the words are repeated again and again,

You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.

J.M. Roddy is a freelance writer, a children’s author, and a pursuer of whole-hearted living.