A swim to remember

Thursday afternoon at my parents' house, I walked down to the dock to test the water. It was too low to feel by letting my foot dangle in. So I climbed down the little wooden ladder to dip my toes in. The water was surprisingly warm.

Excited to go in (it had been a couple of years), I rushed back up the steps and into the freezing cold air conditioned house. Found my bathing suit, wishing I didn't need to. Called Anshu to say she could come over any time. Listened to a message from Tim but had to get a swim in before calling back. Went back upstairs and found my mom standing in the kitchen wearing a t-shirt she’d bought in Jamaica 15 years ago. It said “No problem.” I thought it was funny considering the worry she had expressed earlier about me camping alone.

I told her I was going swimming, knowing she'd probably worry a little about me swimming alone, but also knowing that she had no interest in coming outside; she doesn't like the heat.

So I went back down to the lake, walked out to the end of the dock. The wood was grey, faded from the sun. It had a neglected feel to it. Not visited enough.

I wasn't ready to jump in. But without the hesitation that I often used to feel about going in the lake, I excitedly climbed down the other cobweb-covered ladder at the deep end of the dock.

I climbed down the ladder and got in faster than ever before. Partially because of the temperature. But partially because I just felt more comfortable. Less holding back. Less fear.

It felt so good to be in the water.

I realized that never before had I felt so good swimming in the lake. Even when I was a little girl and giggling and having fun with friends, there was always a fear. I couldn’t even look under the dock or let my legs dangle straight down. My fears weren't even as much about drowning as they were about totally unrealistic things.

But today none of those silly fears got in my way. Seaweed kept wrapping itself around me, and instead of creeping me out or irritating me, I danced with it.

I enjoyed floating, bobbing up and down with the waves, rather than getting disturbed or frightened by the waves enough to stop floating. I used to try to avoid or fight the waves, move into them, rather than move with them. It felt so much better just surrendering and trusting and relaxing and enjoying the ride. Smiling. Breathing. Arms open wide.

I got out of the water, walked down to the other end of the dock, and decided to visit the shallow part of the lake, see what it felt like to walk in the water with my "new legs." I'd just come home from a CranioSacral session in which there was some major re-connecting with my legs. And walking actually did feel different, better, both on dry land and in the lake.

And then I conquered another childhood lake fear: swimming out towards the end of the dock. Why was this scary? I don't really know. I think part of it had to do with a little seaweed forest and not wanting anything touching me. But I no longer cared about that. In fact, I liked the feel of the seaweed touching me. So I did it. I swam through it, and it was great.

I also looked under the dock. No change in heart rate. No fear of sharks or sea monsters.

I smiled.

I wondered why I had always been so afraid. What was I so afraid of?

And then I saw my mom looking out from the inside the house. I waved. And I laughed as I realized that part of my fear was probably born into me. From my mother’s breathing pattern and nervous system. Part of it was from things she’d say, not about water, but just about being careful. And part of it had been from watching Jaws and other horror movies at an early age. Oh, and part of it was from getting swept under in Italy. And maybe part of it even has to do with a past life issue.

A couple of years ago, during a rolfing session, while the therapist worked on my left calf, I felt something shoot up towards my head, developed vertigo that would last for a month, and saw an image of a weight being tied to my left ankle or calf to way my body down into the water. Who knows if it was just my imagination or if there are past lives. I don't know. But as I've been saying about a lot of things lately: I'm open to the possibility.

It doesn't really matter why I was afraid though. What matters is that I'm not anymore. I was so pleasantly surprised by this swim. I will never forget it.

--> © 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.