Ocean

There is an art to entering the ocean when it’s choppy. After many failed attempts, I’ve figured out how to get into the water on my own terms: standing up straight, walking till my waist is under water, and then throwing my arms wide and diving in as if to say, “Make room for me, ocean!” Glorious! When entering wavy waters in this manner, like a schoolgirl waiting her turn to skip rope, I must time my plunge precisely. This requires patience and a watchful eye. 

To begin, my feet are safely submerged in the damp sand at the shoreline where the waves break and disperse. I look out to see where the swell begins, and I keep watch on the wind as it scoops up water and spreads it to shore like frosting on a cake. The waves seem to be saying to me, “Enter at your own risk,” as they rise and fall. 

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I know all too well the unforgiving strength of Mother Nature… 

The break sweep kicks my shins sending me face first into the ocean. And like a hero in a western film, she rushes in instantly, lassoing me. She drags me underwater, drawing me deeper and spinning me forward. I do not give up easily. I kick and paddle with all my strength. I struggle to rise above the water and gasp for air, but she is unrelenting. Bound by the laws of nature, I surrender. My body goes limp and, in my submission, I let her dictate my direction. Her rage lightens. I feel less like an outlaw and more like a child in a playful wrestle. She understands her strength but will not harm me. I resurface, crawl to the shore and spread my body like a starfish in relief. I have learned my lesson. The ocean does not bend for me. I adhere to her laws. 

If I want to enjoy the pleasures of an ocean swim, I must attentively study her rhythm. I have to time my entrance and exit. I must understand my position: not too near to the swell or the break. And if I find myself in her grip, I will surrender and allow her to jostle me to shore, where I can walk around freely once more. 

The way I approach an ocean swim is similar to my journey with health. Only after losing control and being shook to my core was I able to understand life, and my reactions to it are not always in my control. When waves prevent me from a peaceful swim, I have learned to be patient. I closely observe the ‘energy in motion’ (also known as emotions) and adjust my agenda to move with their flow. I let the energy inside surge as needed, knowing that the storm will subside, and when it does I will emerge wiser than before. Whether it be torrent or gentle, I allow what is to be just as it is. I trust that my body is wise.