The Pool of Purity
Or Zen And The Art of Swimming
It is about four thirty in the afternoon on a lazy day. I have kept things on a low speed all day, just concentrating on slowing down. A morning online, breakfast with a friend, a lazy afternoon, a errand to the insurance broker, then home for more low speed laziness. A few phone calls, a few emails, some im's, more music, a little chat, a little wandering. Then a call from a friend to go out and see a movie tonight (The Happening). I glance at the clock and decide to take a swim before they get here.
I switch from my blue jeans and a button down shirt to my tan Columbia swimming trunks, put on the flip flops, grab my goggles and head to the pool. Because I live in an apartment complex, the pool is often heavily chlorinated, so I almost always wear a pair of Speedo swim goggles, just to be merciful on my eyes.
The sun is filtered through the high haze from the Felton, California fire to the south and west of us, so the light is neither bright nor dim. There is a young couple and their children in the pool, but they are playing near the shallow end. I say hello and slip past them into the water. It is cool but not cold, almost perfect. I skim into the surface of the water and do a slow American crawl to the deep end of the pool, slicing through the water, focusing on form. I am a good swimmer. I love the water and learned to swim at a very young age.
The bottom of the pool slides below me and I can see my shadow and the shadow of the wake that spreads from around me in a V on the painted floor of the pool. I tuck and turn at the far end., knowing the length of the pool in strokes from one end to another. I bob to the surface and tread water long enough to tighten the belt on the trunk, and then start to swim slow, steady, even laps the length of the pool. I swim twenty two laps. That isn't a lot because the pool is small, but it is enough so that I feel as if I have actually been swimming, not just splashing in the water.
Then, I do one of my favorite things. I take a deep breath, fill my lungs, and slowly swim the length of the pool underwater, slowly letting the air out. I have scuba dived and skin dived off and on for years and so know the tricks to stay underwater, to make each lungful of air last as long as possible and stillleave myself a margin of safety.
I don't count how many times I swim the length of the pool underwater. Maybe a dozen. Maybe more. Finally, feeling refreshed and recharged, I pop to the surface and just...float. I float for about ten minutes, until I am done floating, then climb out of the pool. There are now two old chinese ladies sitting in the gazebo. The tease me as I go by, telling me to go back and swim some more. We laugh.
Back in the apartment it is a quick shower and then I dress, khaki cargo pants, a blue t-shirt, socks, my New Balance walking shoes. I settle in to write this entry.
There is a moment of purity in swimming that I want to share. It happens when I am underwater. My lungs are near the end of their capacity and I am expelling a small amount of air with each sweep of my arms in an underwater breast stroke and scissor kick. Each cycle is a powerful sweep forward engaging my whole body. It is a moment of pure physicality. My mind clears of all things. When it fades, I actually repeat the motion, keeping a conscious awareness of it so I can write about it. Otherwise, it is just a moment of purity that is beyond description. Even what I write now is just a pale shadow.
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