Inquiry
Another day, another beautiful swim. I leave a little after 10:00 and it is sunny skies and 62 degrees outside. I can see some haze accumulating on the horizon from my dining room window which is my cue to get going sooner than later. As I crest Selva Road and take in Catalina Island, that haze looks like a low lying fog bank lingering somewhere between Catalina and the mainland. It’s a good ways out so I’m not too worried about it drifting into shore any time soon.
After I park and begin to walk down the stairs, there is a slight breeze adding some chill to the air. Looking out onto the water, I see what looks like bonafide waves rolling in from offshore. It’s nothing big, but more significant than what has been here lately. The high tide causes these waves to break at the very last moments before reaching shore.
When I get to my usual starting spot, I wait for a couple of these shore breaking waves to dissipate and then I head due west at a quick pace to avoid the next set. I make it past where the waves are breaking, which isn’t very far at all. Then another set comes and I enjoy feeling their energy pass over me and break just behind me.
I swim north today. The water feels just a hair colder than yesterday. The usual trend this time of year seems to be to drop a degree every few weeks. Given the shorter days and also something to do with the rotational tilt of the earth in relation to the sun, there just isn’t the energy for significant warming. If there is any kind of prolonged westerly winds, the temperature can drop much more significantly. So far we have been spared from such an event this season which is probably why the temperature is a degree or so above normal.
In my mind’s eye, I open my skin to accept the cold as just cold. Anything else - fear and anxiety - are of my own making so I try my best not to produce any of that. I’m generally successful. I keep my physical eye on that fog bank over the entire north bound leg and it seems like it is getting closer but it’s hard to tell just how accurate that is. By the time I reach the Monarch Bay Beach Club, it’s obviously far enough out that I stop thinking about it. I’ll have my back (back of my head) to it for the rest of the swim south. There is a cluster of kelp trees that I enjoy looking at here at my turnaround spot. Their leaves glow in the abundant sunlight.
I stare at the shore the entire swim back. Then when I tilt my head to look at the ocean floor, I lose my mind and identity in the shades and shadows below. I try to determine who it is that I am and where it is that I am going. The effort that it takes to resolve these inquiries doesn’t seem to justify their outcome. It’s an inquiry that just leads to more inquiry. So I decide to drop the inquiry, at least for this moment and the few more just up ahead. I’ll let the water reflect back to me what I am - a shadow holding a ray of muted sunshine. Let the wind determine my trajectory.
