Notes from the Pool: Something to splash about

Getting to the pool recently has been something of a luxury.  Swimming once I've made it there has been blissful.  It's permitted reflection aplenty, and most recently, I noticed thinking later that afternoon (for I try to swim at, or shortly before, lunchtime) about the constancy of swimming for me in recent years.

It wasn't ever thus.  I returned to the water after a long gap some years ago, after a very difficult and frightening event which prompted several significant life changes, from which I needed to heal.  Intellectually, I knew I didn't want to rely on pharmacotherapy.  Intuitively, I knew that swimming would help.  I have swum ever since.  Up and down.  Down and up.  I've swum when things have been going swimmingly, and I've swum through tough times.

"The water is your friend. You don't have to fight with water, just share the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move." 

Aleksandr Popov

I swim to get away from my thoughts and back into my body.  The weightlessness I feel in the water is unparalleled anywhere else in my waking experience.  The silence is soothing, and this is where I find clarity borne of the single focus I have when I'm immersed:  it's me, my self, and my breath.  Life in the fast lane is suddenly really very straightforward.  Swimming is maintenance for my soul and wellbeing.  I return to the pool, weekly at the very least.  With these benefits guaranteed why wouldn't I?

Routine and ritual feature in my life.  Neither scare me today.  Recovery, like swimming, is about maintaining and sustaining.  Just like meetings, I don't always feel like going, but go I do as I know I'll feel better once I'm there.  Just as with recovery, my swimming practice has little to do with how far, or fast I go - it's about checking in, with the water, and with myself. 

There's no need for me to make splashes.  I don't go for anyone but myself.  My stroke tells me all I need to know about where I'm at - the time it takes me to settle in, and get into 'the zone', establishing a breathing pattern and a rhythm.  The degree to which I'm conscious of those around me, and the way I move through the water confirm or deny my success. 

Swimming can be fluid and easy, if I let it be, allowing me to glide without effort or, I can make it hard for myself, battling and pulling myself through the water rather than joining it, and becoming at one with my environment.  It's all about where my head is - physically, in terms of my alignment in the water, and metaphorically.  Swimming is my retreat and my refuge.  I go to the pool to recharge and reconnect, replenish and recentre.  What does your pool look like?               

"H₂O: two parts Heart and one part Obsession."

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