At Home In the Water
I’m swimming again to find peace.
I’m swimming again to find peace. Just today I swam away the anxiety I started to feel creep back into my body. I wondered if I was getting ill. Fear came over me. Ill in a pandemic? How could that be? I wear a mask every place I go, except when I swim.
I swim to feel the soft water surround me. Its warmth embraces me, a liquid calm, like a lake, clear and warm. I come alive, each stroke reminds me of the strength in my body, not the fear or weakness that had come over me. Is there a fear that’s comfortably planted itself in my human brain? It’s better here, in New York now, but the seeds that were planted in my brain six months ago have rooted there.
The other day I moved someone’s golf cart. My friend was about to hit it with her own cart. The woman, Jean, screamed at me. “You touched my cart!” she shouted. “Yes,” I answered. “Mary was too close to it,” I tried to explain.“I had just sanitized the cart,” Jean shouted back at me. Oh my God, I thought. Is she crazy or have I forgotten we’re not supposed to touch? Isn’t this fear planted in my brain too?
After Jean yelled at me, I started to wash my hands again many times a day. After I bring the newspaper in, after I take off the plastic covering. I wiped off the cart in the market today before I went in. This fear that never really went away is sprouting again, like weeds in the garden. I can’t feel the fear all the time, but it sits like a heavy sack of flour in my brain. Will it every go away? Will life ever the same?
So, I swim.
I dive into the water to think, sometimes to forget, while surrounded by the softness, the coolness of clear water. It must remind me of the womb which I can’t possibly remember. I feel strong, pulling forward and back, my arms stroking, my legs kicking. I’m in control. There’s nothing to think about but the strokes that keep me afloat as I breathe calmly.
A peace comes over me. When I smile and feel happy, I know, then and only then, can I climb out of the water. I take my wet suit off, drop it to the ground. For a moment, I’m naked, nothing on my body, but my mind feels peaceful. It lasts for a while, until the day is over and new fears arise. But then, I’ll dive back in, comforted by and surrounded by water.
I’ll find peace again. Won’t I?
