Flying Blind
I was really not sure if I was going to swim today. The surf size is kind of on the border of what I like, but it is just so hard to tell through the beach cams. I’m pretty certain it’s all going to be ok. Then I start playing the piano and I just can’t stop. What I am really supposed to be doing is working, but I have this jumble of feelings inside of me and I just can’t seem to get started. It suddenly becomes clear what I must do. I need to get into that water. I need to let it wash over and through me and cleanse me of my funk. The breeze has picked up quite a bit over the course of these early morning hours, and it looks like it is going to be a bumpy ride for sure out there. You know what? That’s fine. Let’s do it.
The sun has come out and it is a beautiful day. Between the small gusts of wind, there is genuine warmth I can feel on my skin as I get out of my car. Today looks like it is the first day of Jr. Lifeguard season. I love that. Summer is now in session. I can see the Jr. guard canopies at the north end of the beach and I can see kids running out into the water as if they are practicing some kind of amphibious military maneuvers.
It looks like we have gained a little sand since I was last here a few days ago. It also feels like we have lost some warmth in the water. The bouys say 65 degrees which is about 6 degrees colder than my last swim. Still not cold enough to complain about. The beach is sparce despite the fact that the tide is under 4 feet.
Overall, surf looks smaller than it did Friday, I walk out into the water and start swimming. I keep heading due west until it is obvious there is no trace of white water around me and then I veer south. Yes, the water is indeed colder than Friday but I feel good and I am very glad to be here. Whatever concerns I had about the surf seem unwarranted now. Sure there is a little wind and the surface is about as unsmooth as it could be and that is perfectly all right.
I have piano music playing in my head from what I was playing earlier in the morning. It’s a sound track that overlays a montage of hopes and dreams of a future life I intend to create. The water is all over the place. As I move south it is pushing me forward and then when I turn around to head towards the Jr. Lifeguard encampment, I am heading right into the current. I am making forward movement regardless.
Water visibility is quite cloudy. I swim through some kelp and I can see their leaves once I am up close but it is all vague shapes and shadows from a distance. This seems to match how I move through life. From a distance it can be difficult to ascertain whether I am heading for a face of a cliff or a break through the clouds. It is often uncertain up until the last moment where I can choose to turn or keep my current course. The best I can do is tap into my inner compass. It’s the navigational instrument that is not covered in school and in fact we are often led to believe that it does not exist. Sometimes I think I can feel it and other times I think I have grown numb to its presense. I know it is there even if I can’t sense it. I know that it has the ability to steer me even when I cannot steer myself. All that is required of me is movement. I have to keep moving.
This compass wants me to give myself over to it completely. The more control I demand, the more it may hide itself. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it’s predictability. It might plot a course well in advance of the destination or it may whisper in my ear unexpectedly at the very last moment, or it may remain completely silent and I might be required to fly blind for a while but yet I am not blind. I somehow see exactly what I need to see when I need to see it.
