A Sign

I left a little before 10:30 this morning. I was not planning on swimming today. I’ve already swam 4 days in a row and wanted to have more time to get some work done. However, just out of curiosity, I have a look at the beach through the web cam and it is sunny and the surface relatively smooth and I could feel the warmth of the water through my phone and suddenly there is no other option but to swim. It’s as if I was trying to decide whether or not to swim and just couldn’t settle on a decision and so I prayed to God for a sign to show me what I should do. Well if what I was seeing through my screen was not a sign then I don’t know what would be. And I didn’t even ask for one.

I arrive at the parking lot and everything is perfect. I can feel the warm sun on my skin and the water is a dark and luscious blue. I can hardly recall the walk down the stairs to the beach. I was carried to the shore by a power beyond my own and before it released me to the water, it erased my memory leaving only a hint of what had transpired like a sweet odor I just can’t place but would recognize if I smelled it again.

There is a woman standing on the shore at the water’s edge. Her feet are submerged as the water laps up to her ankles. She is just staring out to the horizon and I am about to speak to her and comment on the pleasantness of the water but I stop myself because I feel like I am interrupting a prayer. So I let her be and continue on to my usual starting spot.

The water feels just a little cooler today but I wonder if that is just because the sun is out and today it is warmer outside than it is under the water. I’m pretty sure that is the case because once I am in and swimming, the water feels about the same as it has the last couple days. One thing that is different other than the sunshine is the water visibility has significantly improved. I can actually see the ocean floor on the entire stretch to the south end of the beach. Granted, I am swimming a little closer to shore today given the nearly flat surf conditions.

Just after I reach the south end, a pelican lands on the big rock that I use as my turnaround marker. He (or she) just sits there for quite a while. Since the surf is so small, I have no problem getting pretty close to the rock and having a look at this beautiful bird. The sky here and everywhere that I look is blue. The water is blue and bright and clear and warm and I wonder how much better could this all possibly get.

I swim north and try to let go of my fears and worries and memories and hopes and longings and just collapse all the time I can muster down to this single beautiful point. I pass several kelp trees that sway in the current and bend the light that pierces through the surface. They look as though they are plugged into some kind of energy source. I enjoy looking at the water’s surface from underneath and then follow the sun’s rays into the deep until they dissipate into darkness.

I eventually get to the north end and there are about three small boats hanging out here. Two look unoccupied and are probably owned by divers and a few people are fishing on the third. It is indeed a beautiful day to be out on the water. There is kelp all around us and I see plenty of calico bass beneath me which is probably what these guys are fishing. Off in the southern distance, I see a standup paddle boarder. I linger here for just a bit because that seems like the right thing to do and then I continue.

I’m trying to listen to what the ocean is telling me. I know it has things to say today. It speaks through splashes and glimmers of light. Every sway of the current is a passage I attempt to translate until I realize there is no translation. The message is unencrypted and its meaning is laid out so bare that it is difficult to see. I open myself to the sunshine as I stare at the shore when I raise my neck for air and I take in the whispers of the water and now I sit here and remember what it was that I heard and am still trying to understand.