Right Now
Well it’s Friday. Finally. I have not swam all week since Sunday. On Monday I actually drove to the beach, parked, and just as I was getting ready to get out of the car, I got a call and had to leave immediately to help out my ex-wife which also left me without a car on Tuesday. It rained on Wednesday. One might argue that I should not be in the water now because it may be too soon after the rain, but I’m taking my chances. I must swim.
Other than the potential water pollution issues, conditions are fairly ideal. The sun is out and it is relatively warm. We no longer have those delicious 70 degree temps, but it is 60 as I leave at 9:30 and it feels pretty darn nice in the direct sunlight. There is no view of Catalina today - too hazy. Upon arriving at the parking lot, the water looks fairly smooth but there is a southern breeze ruffling up the surface.
As I walk down the stairs, I go through the usual inner dialog that goes something like: “I think I am going to die in that cold water.” “No, Matt, you are not going to die. It’s going to be great.” “No really, I think this might be the day that I die. Please explain to me how I will not die.” “I don’t have the energy to explain this to you every single time we come here. You are just going to have to take my word for it.” “Ok. I will.”
Coming down the asphalt road just above the shore, a man is coming back up and looks at me with a smile and says, “it feels good doesn’t it?” I am so fixated on the water that I think he is commenting about how it will feel in the water. So I say, “that’s what I am hoping for!” As though I am still not convinced after swimming here a thousand times that it could possibly feel otherwise. Then I say “I’m sure it will be.” He acts as if he is not completely hearing me correctly and says “from your head to your toes.” I agree with him and we move on. Then it dawns on me that he is talking about RIGHT NOW. Because of course it feels good here from your head to your toes. It just goes without saying yet it is nice to say. So I pull myself out of the water and back into my body here.
There is a fair amount of surf in the water. It’s not particularly big but it seems constant with very little dead space between sets. Another thing that seems a little different is that the surf seems like it is breaking further out than normal. As I walk out into the water, it feels like it is quite a ways to get to the edge of the surf. In fact, I think I’m just going to start swimming now because this is taking forever. Also, I’m already wet. So as I swim under the oncoming white water, I feel good. It’s cold but not that cold. All in all it is completely doable and I don’t feel particularly taxed.
Finally I am past the surf and I pause to look around me. I like everything that I see and then I start to swim south towards the headlands. The water feels very active. The water is definitely moving here but it is hard to tell in which direction. I can’t really figure out if I am being pushed or pulled, but this water is very much alive. I like it. It is very cloudy and I can barely see my arms in front of me. If I stop to focus on what is in front of me, I see a vast void filled with golden specks of sand like stars in a blue patch of space. Further in the distance I see white clouds of effervescent water that grows more white and then opens up into a pool of blue.
As I swim down the beach I see a few small flocks of Pelicans and a couple flying solo. They circle the immediate area looking for a meal. The beach looks very hazy and kind of misty. The sun simmers on the water and illuminates the haze and it feels like I am moving in some kind of new environment that is not quite water and not quite air and a whole lot of light.
At the end of the beach just beneath the headlands, the waves break into the cliffs and the traces white water shimmer on the water and the surface moves up and down and the rocks at the end of the point appear and disappear. What I am seeing in front of me is like the pendulum of a clock that moves in perfect rhythm. When I begin to swim back up north, the movement of the water is palpable and it feels like breath. I feel the resistance of the inhale and am then propelled forward by the exhale…again and again.
I swim through fields of kelp that seem to be aggressively reaching for my limbs in an effort to hold me back. They wrap themselves around my lower legs and ankles and my camera. I free my camera from my trunks and unravel the vines off of its housing. Then I remain still here for just a while and enjoy the sensation of being held here. I realize this kelp does not hold any ill intentions. It invites me to release my mind from the lifeguard tower up ahead that I have been swimming towards and to let it settle on what is right here right now.
