Unstuck

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to swim this morning. I’ve swam the past couple days and its cloudy and windy this morning. Then again, it’s not THAT windy, conditions are otherwise good (no fog or crazy surf) and time is not a huge issue. Also, the alternative is working out on the elliptical machine. With that in mind, the decision becomes easy. So come 8:30 I have no compelling reason NOT to swim.

Skies are mostly cloudy but there are some hints of blue sky out towards the horizon. Of course I will not be swimming on the horizon. Well maybe on someone else’s horizon, but not mine. The air is mild - in the low 60’s. It is so comfortable that today I don’t even bring a towel or backpack in the car. I’m traveling light with just my camera and goggles. I get to the parking lot and watch the surface of the ocean moving north. It is heavily textured and dark and lumpy but there are no white caps and looks like it will make for an invigorating swim. I’m actually feeling fairly pumped for some turbulence. Bring it on!

The tide is high and the water looks like it is suffering from some kind of morning sickness. It’s all jumbled up. Part of me is asking if I am sure I want to do this and another part is especially glad I am here to experience these conditions. I’ve made it this far. My feet are on the sand and wet. I am doing this.

I get in the water and there is small surf coming my way. I grow tired of waiting for the waves to pass and just dive under the next one and keep swimming out until I feel I am beyond the white water or what could become white water. I immediately notice that the water feels more comfortable than yesterday, warmer in other words, not that yesterday was all that bad.

As I head south I am against the current and I make slow progress toward the south end of the beach. It feels great to be here. The clouds are continuously shifting and the sun grows brighter and then dims darker as the vapor moves beneath it. There are a few surfers out here who were not turned away by the jumbled conditions. It is definitely ridable.

I can really tell it is taking a while to get to the south end but I am getting there slowly but surely. The water is fairly clear and it really does feel good. It’s not a warm bath but as long as I keep moving, it is more than comfortable. I make it to the south end and there are waves breaking far out near to where I am. It all looks and feels so raw. I see the face of a wave approaching and it looks like it is going to break super close to me but not actually on me. So I watch it and it looks kind of big and scary. Then I snap a picture and as I look at the picture after the swim, it looks like totally no big deal and I’m embarrassed to post it here.

I turn around to head north and it feels like I am swimming at warp speed. I think probably about warp 6? It is hard to say for sure. I am relishing this swim. I swim through lots of kelp and what looks like tree after tree beneath me. I particularly enjoy when these trees appear in groups and I swim in between them. For whatever reason they are not all spread out over the surface today which tends to just tangle me up.

I’m trying to listen to what the ocean is telling me today. I feel hope in it’s voice this morning and it is a little easier to hear without all of yesterday’s angst. It’s telling me I am heading somewhere good. For the last couple years I have been feeling particularly stuck in my life but I feel like things have shifted in the last several months and I am moving again. There is still a ton of uncertainty which I am not particularly fond of and I really don’t know how things will look in a year. What I do know is that they will look different from what they have been and that is super appealing to me.

I watch my life move forward through this water and in between stalks of kelp. I watch the surface rolling and bouncing all around me. I watch the shore and the cliff pass by and I feel the energy of the water charge every inch of my skin. This is how this ocean and the entire surrounding environment speak to me.

A cormorant takes flight from the water about 50 feet inshore of me. It drags it’s hind parts as it gains altitude. It starts out with a sort of sputter but then it is off and soaring through the air as if somehow all of the events in it’s little life have lead to this very moment and that cormorant does what only a cormorant can do.