We both heard the bloop.
Erin looked at me and said,
“What was that?”
And I said,
“…I think I just dropped my phone in the lake.”
Then we both saw it.
The screen was still glowing underwater.
And I thought, I have two choices:
One, go in after it before the light goes out. Two, go buy a new phone.
That’s it.
No overthinking.
Just do something or do nothing.
Meanwhile the dogs are pacing, Erin’s counting rails, and we head to the bank so I can walk in. We’re laughing, adrenaline is pumping, and I realize there is absolutely NO way my kids are ever going to believe this story.
Thank goodness Erin was there to take the dogs as I headed into the lake. She asked if she could film it and I said, “Yes. My kids need this laugh today.”
So, in I went.
At first it was knee deep.
Then one more step and suddenly it shot up to my ribs and I looked back at Erin and said “Ohhh… it’s REALLY cold.”
At that point I was committed.
What was interesting wais I wasn’t afraid or even angry. It was just the challenge of the moment. I knew I could do it. I grew up swimming in this lake. But it was cold.
And I had to focus.
Erin counted the bridge rails and lined it up with the pylons where the phone dropped while holding two emotionally devastated dogs. Charlie — my Labrador who ironically is NOT a fan of water — was barking from shore. Darwin was crying.
It was a scene.
First dive: nothing.
Second dive: okay… this is harder than I thought.
Because now the silt was kicked up, I couldn’t see underwater anymore, my shoes were sinking in the mud, and every time I went under it got colder.
At one point I thought:
“How much time do I actually have before that light goes out?”
Not fear.
Urgency.
By the third dive I realized the answer wasn’t to move faster.
It was to get calmer.
So I stopped.
Controlled my breathing. Focused. Trusted myself and my friend.
Erin was now directing me from above on the bridge — better vantage point — because she could still see the light, which I could not.
“One step closer.”
“Right there.”
“You got it.”
Head submerged again.
I came up holding the phone. Still working.
And somewhere between the freezing water, adrenaline, laughing at myself, crying dogs, my friend guiding me from above, and two joggers staring at me like I had completely lost my mind while I stood dripping wet telling them, “You guys should really try the lake today, the water’s delightful…”
…I realized the lesson.
Sometimes the fastest way to shift your energy is to fully enter the moment in front of you.You have two choices: do something or do nothing. The dogs eventually recovered from the trauma. Erin and I still got to catch up afterward. My shoes are still wet.
And somehow my nervous system is calmer.
The energy shifted.
Thank you Erin for having my back — and my dogs.
For more positive inspirations, follow Jen on Instagram @jens.reikicorner