Clothes are shed, and all belongings, save the film of a bathing suit, a swimming cap, goggles, are locked away in a little box. There is only me left, in the changing room, a calm soothing transition space. A shower to wash away the outside world, a cleansing act. And then, acceptance into the waters blue, a faint whiff of chlorine, childhood memories of Saturdays at the pool, a chemical smell with joyous associations. I drop into the water, straight down, like an anchor, giving myself to the water, and it releases me back up just the same. Breathe. The preciousness that is air. Goggles on now, and the world made slightly hazy by them, shut out, I push myself off the wall and arm over arm, breathe, arm over arm. I am not aware of my legs as they are doing their job automatically, but I am aware of my breath. Under the water I blow out, streams of bubbles float away, then head lifted a deep gulp of air, so appreciated, before plunging in again. I count, 1-2-3- breathe, 1-2-3- breathe... The outside world is lost and no thoughts are in my mind except the counting and the breathing and the movements of my body, propelling itself forwards through the water. What joy, to think that I can be a creature of the water too, that I can move in it and play in it, what freedom.
The morning had started out dull but halfway through my session the sun comes out and shafts of sunlight rain down onto the pool, making the water glisten and glitter and then it's like swimming through sunshine, through light, and I think how much like a church this is, a temple to being, a beautiful thing. The sunlight dances on our faces and bodies as we repeat the motions that take us through the water, necessarily repetitive because this is meditation after all. We the swimmers, the sun, the water, the muted sounds, murmurs and gurgles, a serene ecclesiastical ritual of living.
