The water at Cedar Lake is speckled with revealing of light sent down to us from above. The powerful spray that the boat motor creates separates me from the spectators, allowing me to ski through my own world.

The glass water keeps me grounded. Sitting on the shore of Lake Michigan and simply contemplating struggle brings an uplifting sense of clarity. The waves crash, similar to the sound of a symbol being struck immediately following a fill on the drum set back home. The drum set reminds me of my loving brother, who not only played the role of my musical teacher, but also was my mentor and sheltered me throughout childhood. This cures my soul for the moment, conquering my sense of loneliness.

In a fast-paced and complex world, water is the drink that forces me to slow down and take care of myself. There’s no secret to the beverage. It’s both pleasurable and encouraged to be consumed in mass quantity, which together is very rare. It is the drink I turn to in desperation on the field and to comfort me when I’m sick.

Water is free, not seeking anything in return. I’ve always been deeply attuned to sound. Water produces a distinct one, as drops of bliss fall from the sky to crash on the crack-filled pavement of the mortal world. Since the status-quo attitude associated with rain is negative, my love for rain always reminds me to think and feel for myself in all aspects of life. The sound of the rain trickling soothes the clatter in my mind. Whether it’s clashing on the gym ceiling or beating against the windows in the music studio, it provides rhythmic consistency to the course of a chaotic universe. Water is irreplaceable and will always make me feel safe.