Pool of Equanimity
Yesterday, the weather forecast was calling for more warm temps today with a high of 74 but cloudy skies. I’m thinking, “how does that work exactly in February?” Sometimes when the forecast calls for cloudy skies, it just means not cloudless. So maybe it will be predominately sunny with a few clouds here and there. Well once there is enough light this morning to make the sky visible, it’s definitely what I would call cloudy. I see patches of blue sky in the distance but it’s mostly grey. Thankfully, the temps are indeed comfy. I’m walking my dog at about 8:00 with just a t-shirt (and shorts of course) and I am perfectly comfortable.
One of the effects I have found from swimming in the ocean year round and especially since keeping up this blog is that it makes me much more cognizant of the weather and overall atmospheric conditions. Before, I would go year to year nearly forgetting what the weather was like the prior year let alone the prior week. Now I watch the forecast with keen attention daily. I’m fascinated not just with temperature and cloud cover but also wind and particularly wind direction. I honestly feel more connected to my immediate surroundings and I enjoy learning how different weather events affect water temperature. And I’ll be honest, it’s all about water temperature. I want to know what is happening with the water temperature even though I have absolutely no control over it. I think maybe knowing how water temperature is impacted by the environment and knowing what is forecasted gives me a false sense of control over these things. False or not, I’ll take it.
So anyways yeah, it’s cloudy and warm - nothing to complain about here in February. I leave my apartment at about 9:15. When I get my first glimpse of Catalina Island, I am taken aback by the beauty. There is something special in the air and light today that is different from the past several days. The cloud cover dims the luminosity but there is still some significant blue sky to provide contrast. Then there is the air which is slightly misty that gathers in patches here and there low on the water between here and the island. It all looks slightly enchanted. Probably because it is.
As I drive into the parking lot, there is a bit of a scuffle going on between the crows and the seagulls. The seagulls are sending in reinforcements from the west and one looks like it is going to fly right into my windshield but of course it knows what it is doing and maneuvers over my car. I park and get out of the car and am delighted by the cozy air outside. I don’t have that narcotic sensation of direct sunlight like we had yesterday but I’m still recovering and not sure I’m ready quite yet for another dose of that. Alright alright, I am ready, but still it’s all good.
I get to the beach and it is really super beautiful. I’m loving these clouds which are really making the light and water interesting. As my feet pass through the shallows while I walk down the beach to my starting point, I’m asking myself just how it is that I am actually going to get in the water and swim without dying. I figure probably the same way I did it yesterday and the million times before that. After I walk in just a few steps, a set of waves break in front of me and I no longer have to sustain the anticipation of getting wet. That part is done.
I’m swimming north today and I’m mostly fine for these first several minutes other than the cold seems particularly acute in my face and lower arms. That all passes soon enough. I feel like the water temperature has been just on the edge of what I consider to be hypothermic (at least for me) and just plain cold. It’s an interesting edge. We are still on the “just cold” side but it will only take about another degree to put us over. In this zone, the water feels cold but not cold enough to initiate my body’s internal mechanisms to starts shifting blood around. The difference is that I don’t have the initial cold shock that can make me lethargic for the first few minutes followed by a false sense of warmth for the first 20 to 30 minutes followed by a slow slide in internal temperature that grows in intensity over the remainder of the swim and can lead to shivering and mental static immediately after the swim.
I swim past the point and into Salt Creek. I’m mostly heads down and focusing on my destination but manage a brief stop or two on the way. There is a growing swell in the water that is most visible here in front of the Ritz. Again, these clouds make everything look super cool. The surface of the water looks dark but also has a soft glow to it. When I reach the mouth of the creek just short of the beach club, I hear birds squawking and it is coming from a gull resting on the water just about 20 feet north west of me. I decide now is a fine time to turn around.
I use the cold as an object of meditation. While I can’t say that it gives me comfort, it is also not a source of suffering. Every now and then I sense a wave of suffering coming on but upon further inquiry, I realize it is an illusion. This cold is just cold and I’m conditioned to perceive that as bad but I’m not writhing in any kind of agony here. I simply relax my body and my mind and find that the cold is an instructive companion. The cold is hard work and like added hills on a run or bike ride. It prompts me to search within myself for equanimity and I am surprised to find it. I find it because there is a whole big everlasting pool of it deep inside of all of us.
