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Mindfulness underwater: Swimming to be. Being to swim.

I go to the Pool not to think, but to be.  To be with the water, and without language.  Yet, after a swim I am often conscious of the benefits I derive from the experience, and the clarity I gain from this important component of my self care.  For some people, swimming up and down for anything more than a few lengths, must seem arduous and tedious.  Not for me.  I am so thrilled to have swum twice this week in the open air, I feel positively exuberant and have finally delayed no longer in sourcing myself a new pair of goggles my current favourites no longer truly being waterproof (and therefore hardly capable of their purpose).  Whilst 'doing' swimming, I find it far easier than most other situations to truly 'be', and herein lies the magic.  There's nothing mystical about it and yet it feels precious and valuable. 




Having spent the day tasting and digesting a lot of material, focusing on the conceptual and intellectual, I was ready for a swim.  2k later, and I felt good.  I have replenished and encountered a modal switch - from doing, to being.  I was there, in the pool, in the moment, and it felt great.  For me, swimming is refreshing at more than one level.  Whilst exerting myself in the pool, I do so with what ancient philosophy might refer to as 'right effort' directed towards an end greater than any particular swum distance.  Ends and means interest me equally.  I swim because I am, I am because I swim.  




20 minutes into my swim I had a real treat as those I had been happily sharing the pool with finished their swims, leaving me alone, in the middle lane.  Nirvana.  Well, not quite.  Nirvana, I have come to understand, being a practice rather than a destination.  In those moments that I was able to acknowledge with gratitude the joy I connected with, I aimed to be only present, putting aside wonderings of how long this state might last, suspending my attachment to the unforeseen luxury and my related aversion to the idea (and reality) that I would at some point, be joined by another.  It was, after all, only about 5.15pm with some swimming time left before dusk.  Just as I try not to count my lengths, in the spirit of listening to my body, and attuning to its sense of time in the swimming pool, I try too not to get too attached to any judgement of my circumstances, be the arising evaluation positive or negative.  In this way, I find I am better able to swim.  The Buddha is attributed with saying 'in seeing only see, in hearing only hear'; when swimming, I seek only to swim letting thoughts, and thoughts about thoughts float to the surface, leaving me alone with my sensory experience of the present moment.  




It seems I'm in good company (though we've found different pools!)














 



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