Quick Sand

Quick Sand

Quick sand is liquified soil defined as: loose wet sand that yields easily to pressure and sucks in anything resting on or falling into it; a bad or dangerous situation from which it is hard to escape.

I remember shows from childhood with dreaded quicksand or tar pits that characters had to be rescued from. The warning from rescuer to sand pit captive was always “Don’t move, you will sink faster.” Close by there always happened to be a branch or rope long enough to extend to and extract the pit victim. 

I remember the anxious feelings I had while watching these rescues. Would the sinking person or cartoon character get out in time or would I be witness to them slipping deeper and irretrievably beneath the surface, never to be seen or heard from again? A disconcerting thought to say the least, because a helpless feeling could blanket me, if I didn’t have hope. 

When do we know we are in quicksand? When do we know that we need help, the extension and offer of a strong branch with a soul on the other side, wanting to see us survive and removed from the pit that threatens to swallow us up, never to be seen or heard from again? May I offer that we know when we have a sinking feeling in the pit of our own stomach that if change doesn’t happen, somehow we will be lost forever. 

It comes to me in a flash that the villains in these shows would fall prey to these pits, thrashing about and desperately trying to save themselves, even when help was near. Their descent into the seemingly bottomless pit was rapid and soon forgotten. With their departure into liquified soil, there was a brief feeling of loss followed by a sense of relief that the evil one was no longer a threat.

Rescue. If I fall into a pit, will you come for me? Will you say “Be still, I will get something to pull you out.”? In my weakness and time of need, will you be my strength? While you stand on solid ground and see me in my despair, what is your offering? Do you believe I can make it out and join you there? Do YOU believe in me, have hope for me, want me to survive?

If you offer me a branch or rope, I have to chose to hold on in my own strength. You cannot save me, I must decide I want to live. I must hope for myself as I accept your offer of help. It takes two, me and you, to make survival work. 

We all fall in and we all need help out. It is oh so human to be strong and yet weak, vulnerable and yet invincible. We all take turns in the many ways of being in this life. Whether I am in the pit or you have inadvertently slipped in, my request and promise is to be there for one another for extraction. Solid ground feels good when we get to look at the pit together and say we survived and from here, the future looks bright.