I was talking on Shakesville about the one physical activity I can do, that hasn't been taken away because of my pain. In fact, because of its very nature, it's an ideal activity in relation to my pain.
I like to go swimming.
I'm not very good, I must say. I'm a terrible swimmer, really. I'm rather uncoordinated at the best of times and I'm sure my strokes are all wrong. I get tired very quickly and I get tense cause sometimes, I'm scared I'll drown (because I'm so bad at swimming). Despite that, I still love being in the water.
Being at the beach brings me the most joy. I like pools, particularly salty warm ones, but the beach is where I'm happiest.
When I'm in the water, gravity is hampered. I float, my body floats. Suddenly, that constant pull is no longer there. The pull against my body, my organs, the scarring and adhesions is gone. In that water, I move like I can't on land, on my feet.
I dip, I dive, I frolic, I cavort. I laugh and I splash, I soak in the sun and the salt. Afterwards, I lie in the sun with my feet in the soft white sand, and I listen to my heavy breaths and feel the roar and the pulse of my blood, singing with oxygen and moving like a torrent through my tired body.
The world under the surface is a wonderland. It's so blue, so cool and endless. It is not calm, not gentle. The water pulls you back and forth, and fish dart about, transluscent and flashing like living crystals. They see me and dart away. Some see me and consider me.
Algae and kelp twist and sway in the ever-present currents. An unknown world waits to be explored, if one is brave enough to dip down below the surface. To go there one must fly through the water, soar over the dips in the limestone reefs, glide among the clouds of sand stirred up by the breakers.
In that world, I forget I hurt. I forget that my body holds me back. I would be there forever, searching and learning and finding new things to fill me with awe. I would know every fish, every crustacean, every little copepod and worm and sea-slug and invertebrate. I would wait for the whales to pass through the waters on their way to mate. I would watch the dolphins hunt. I would chase sea lions and laugh at their games. I would do all these things.
But I am a land creature. I return to my house, walking on dry ground, gravity pulling at my aching insides.
In the hardest moments, when the pain is too much... In the moments when it's cold and I'm tired and unhappy with the way things are... In those times when I feel alone or fed up, I think of the water, not so far away, just over the hill, calling to me in the night with angry breakers.
I close my eyes and I'm there again. I go to sleep and I dream of breathing in the blue, not just visiting it, but thriving in it and losing myself to it. There, I feel truly free.
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