Peace
I, how to put this gently?, completely and totally suck at meditation. I've taken yoga classes, I've read articles on prayerful meditation and I still get completely monkey brained everytime I'm asked to sit in stillness, with a brain that is silent.
I am almost always thinking. Not always deep things, of course. I have, after all, woken up for the last three days with the fantastically horrible song "I'm in Love Wit a Stripper" in my head. That certainly doesn't indicate a lot of deep level nocturnal thinking. I think about food, I think about work, I think about whether or not Katie Holmes is locked in some Scientology dungeon somewhere getting reprogrammed. Serious stuff. Clearly worthy of minutes of my undivided attention.
I often believe myself to be a much better doer than be-er (I can't not think if a better way to spell that). I'm not a "be in the moment" kind of person. I like to dwell in the future and try to rearrange the past. I am a champion worrier.
Except...
I can swim. I can swim well. I can swim easily and when I swim I am the most peaceful person I know.
When I swim, which is not often enough, I stop thinking. The rabble of voices and songs and wonderings is quieted and I hear: my breath, water flowing past my ear, the faraway, indistinct sound of voices on the pool deck. I am quiet.
For a long time there wasn't anyone on the planet who loved swimming more than me. I woke up at 4:45am to swim before school (which shocks my husband who has seen me struggle mightily to get out of bed before 9am on a Saturday). I swam 3-7 miles a day, nearly everyday and I loved it. I like meets and winning ribbons and trying to improve my times but I loved to train. I love the muffled silence of being underwater, I love the repetition, I love the simplicity of movement (arms, legs, breath, repeat).
My love of training actually led to the end of my swimming career in college. I had injured my shoulders and trained when I should have rested and ended up burning out half way through a swim season. I quit the sport, exhausted in mind and body, and didn't swim again for years. I just couldn't because I missed it so much.
I sometimes think about starting to swim again and it scares me. I worry that I'll hate my former love because I won't be good at it anymore. I think I might also worry about letting that stillness back into my life. It so much easier to think about a million little nothings than to be silent and see what happens.
I swam tonight and it was good.
I am almost always thinking. Not always deep things, of course. I have, after all, woken up for the last three days with the fantastically horrible song "I'm in Love Wit a Stripper" in my head. That certainly doesn't indicate a lot of deep level nocturnal thinking. I think about food, I think about work, I think about whether or not Katie Holmes is locked in some Scientology dungeon somewhere getting reprogrammed. Serious stuff. Clearly worthy of minutes of my undivided attention.
I often believe myself to be a much better doer than be-er (I can't not think if a better way to spell that). I'm not a "be in the moment" kind of person. I like to dwell in the future and try to rearrange the past. I am a champion worrier.
Except...
I can swim. I can swim well. I can swim easily and when I swim I am the most peaceful person I know.
When I swim, which is not often enough, I stop thinking. The rabble of voices and songs and wonderings is quieted and I hear: my breath, water flowing past my ear, the faraway, indistinct sound of voices on the pool deck. I am quiet.
For a long time there wasn't anyone on the planet who loved swimming more than me. I woke up at 4:45am to swim before school (which shocks my husband who has seen me struggle mightily to get out of bed before 9am on a Saturday). I swam 3-7 miles a day, nearly everyday and I loved it. I like meets and winning ribbons and trying to improve my times but I loved to train. I love the muffled silence of being underwater, I love the repetition, I love the simplicity of movement (arms, legs, breath, repeat).
My love of training actually led to the end of my swimming career in college. I had injured my shoulders and trained when I should have rested and ended up burning out half way through a swim season. I quit the sport, exhausted in mind and body, and didn't swim again for years. I just couldn't because I missed it so much.
I sometimes think about starting to swim again and it scares me. I worry that I'll hate my former love because I won't be good at it anymore. I think I might also worry about letting that stillness back into my life. It so much easier to think about a million little nothings than to be silent and see what happens.
I swam tonight and it was good.
posted by Mrs.Robinson at
9:08 PM
1 Comments:
you swim, girl -- the love of it, and that stillness, will come back, sweet and slow... i have no doubt.
we had a pool at home when i was in high school -- i used to dive in at night and go sit on the bottom of the deep end, holding onto to the drain to keep myself there, relaxing into that muffled quiet. look up and see the stars or moon all refracted and wavy above me.
it was the greatest peace i had then. i hold that space in my soul today -- i dive down there for easy time now and then.
By
Chris, at 6:34 PM
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