Just For Today

Well it’s been a week since I last got in the water. Rain and wind came on Monday and remained off and on through to the beginning of Thursday. Also, it’s been cold. Mornings have been in the 40’s and I thought my hands were going to drop off of my body on the first couple miles of my run yesterday morning before the sun finally started to penetrate the shadows of the hills and houses enough to reach my skin.

Of course this all sounds ridiculously scrumptious after hearing of the 38 degree highs in Seattle where my sister lives and where I used to live and my Instagram friend Jennifer who swims in the “slushy” water of the New York Atlantic tells me she cannot swim this winter because the water is too frozen. I live in a magical place - Dana Point, California. Yes it can get cold enough that you might want to put on a sweater in the morning, but the ocean never ever ever ever freezes. It doesn’t even get slushy. It doesn’t even snow on the shore. The closest thing I have seen to that was a freak hail deluge while I was running near Doheny beach and when I got to the shore it really did look kind of like snow on the sand.

It’s 58 degrees out as I leave my apartment a little before 8:30. The sun truly feels wonderful on my face. I am confident my hands will remain attached to my arms and that’s a good feeling. I get to the beach parking lot and the water looks absolutely gorgeous. It is smooth and blue below an even bluer clear sky. I want to go to there.

I walk down the stairs and try to hush the dialog in my mind that ponders the temperature of the water. I know it will be colder today. The buoy data shows dropping temperatures. Thursday was the day of infamy with strong northwest winds all day. It has gone from 63 to 60 here. I have to remind myself that there is still a 6 in the left hand decimal place of that number. However I am sure there is 58 and 59 degree patches to be found out there. The San Pedro buoy reads 59. I remind myself of those last days of March years ago when the water first reached 60 after months of mid 50 degree water and how wonderful it felt.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs I look out and see a mass of outrigger canoes heading north. They are super fun to watch and I love seeing the color and movement on the water and I love just knowing that there are people in those canoes and I know exactly what they are seeing and I know what it feels like to be moving the body vigorously as they are and I feel connected to them as I vicariously experience what they must be seeing through their eyes. They have passed that rocky gap between the harbor and this beach which I find so spectacular and few ever get to see. They just saw it and I imagine how grateful they must feel to have had the opportunity to see something so wonderful. And I feel grateful just to even be thinking about it.

This makes me think of something I heard this week on a podcast I have been binge listening to for the past couple weeks. The podcast is called the telepathy tapes and it is so very fascinating. This documentarian skeptic discovers this population of non speaking autistic children and how they exhibit telepathic abilities. As she investigates the topic further she discovers they are all over the world and so many people are noticing these telepathic capabilities including parents, teachers and friends and even some scientists many of whom are baffled and afraid to talk about this. This propels her (the documentarian) to investigate all sorts of topics the average person would consider woo woo and start a podcast which has now become very popular.

Anyways, an episode I listened to this week includes a man who had become a quadriplegic after falling off a two story building and he healed himself and now is fully recovered. He was a Reiki practitioner since before his accident, which is an ancient Japanese form of energy healing. He shares in the podcast that Reiki includes 5 agreements or principles one must adhere to in order to receive and give healing. They state that just for today I will not be angry, not worry, be grateful, be diligent and be kind. I have been thinking a lot of the first three especially. I struggle with worry and gratitude and, particularly with my son, anger. I notice that if I can eliminate anger and worry and remain in a space of gratitude, I feel good. It feels like a place we are all meant to be and from which only good things can happen. I also like the “just for today” part.

I think that if I can get myself out into that water, I will be in a place where it is easy to adhere to these principles. Well, actually, I feel like where I am right now is a pretty good starting point, but the water is really where it’s at.

I reach the sand and notice there is a little less of it today. The Jupiter rock is almost fully exposed. Still there is plenty of sand here. It’s so beautiful here. There are almost no waves in the water. The water looks clear from here and the way the sun and the sky and the water are all arranged here together creates a space that feels so far away from any worry or anger or resentment or meanness. I feel so lucky to live here and have easy access to this bit of magical coast.

I put my feet in the water and walk to my usual starting spot and by the time I reach it, my feet feel like they have lost just a little bit of feeling in them. I wonder how I will survive in this water. I imagine swimming out there and having the cold crush me. So this is worry. Oddly I know that the best cure for this worry is to actually get in the water. I know this from doing it hundreds of times. It is indeed counterintuitive, but experience tells me that it will be wonderful and life giving.

I walk out into the water and it is so beautiful. The water is very clear right here in the shallows and I can see little clouds of sand near my feet that look like dust clouds over a dessert in the wind. Just as I tuck my camera into my trunks and lift my hands out of the water, this pelican flies right in front of me from what seems like out of nowhere and I snatch my camera like a gun in a quick draw duel and capture what I can as this magnificent creature flies away.

Ok now I actually have to start swimming. I stand here with the sun shinning on my back and the thought of total submersion just doesn’t seem very appealing to put it very mildly. Again, I know the only cure to these thoughts is to lean forward and surrender all of my weight to the water. So I do this and suddenly I stand at the opposite side of worry. Yes it is cold and yes it is intense but it’s not as intense as I expect and after a couple minutes things calm and I am just fine. I just need to adapt. The next swim will be easier and then the next swim will be even easier and then it will probably get colder and adapting will be harder and then easier and easier and then soon enough one day it will be 60 again and I will feel hints of warmth.

I am swimming south and the day is utterly beautiful. The water is much cloudier out here further from the shore than it was in the shallows. Still, there is plenty to see and even more to feel. There is so much to feel. I can feel every inch of my skin. The water speaks to my pores and reminds me that it is right here. Right here. And then it reminds me that I too am right here. It reminds me that everything that I need right now is right here.

Thoughts wander through my mind like stars through the milky way and like comets that sputter and burn out and transform into dead asteroids that may travel endlessly for a billion years until they chance upon another celestial body and collide and scatter like dust that will eventually coalesce over eons to form a new star at the edge of my consciousness.