Taking the Plunge

Growing up, my brother and I were two of the first kids in town to race to the city pool when it opened at the beginning of summer. When the temperatures dipped low, the fully clothed lifeguard would humor the two of us for 30 minutes or so as we splashed in icy chlorinated bliss, then blow the whistle and yell "all out!"

There is a beautiful lake surrounded by pine and maple forest at the nearby state park, and I also loved to swim its width from the beach to the boulders on the other side, where a rope swing hung from a birch tree. My mom didn't like me swimming across the entire lake, but I would sneak out as far as possible then pretend that I couldn't hear her calling. The water smelled fishy and woodsy, and sometimes had algae that looked like snot floating around the edges.

When I moved to Santa Barbara in my 20's (where I coincidentally had almost grown up), I adored swimming in the ocean- tasting the briny salt water and feeling the seaweed and sand on my toes, body-surfing in the massive waves and surrendering myself to their power. One day my friend Jeremy and I ventured way out beyond the waves into the calm water. He showed me how to float with my ears just under the surface, so we could listen to the dolphins call to each other down below. It was so peaceful and haunting. After ocean swimming my skin would feel clammy and my hair tangled like a mermaid. It was heavenly.

I think the appeal of swimming for me is the weightlessness and momentary escape from the human world- to dive down and use up an entire breath as I glide through cool water, and hear nothing but the blood pumping in my ears, or the buzz or hum of the dim sounds from above or below...sanctuary.