The Quiet Under the Water

I love to swim.  I love to be under the water in the quiet.  I love that I can be working as hard as I can physically, and not a sound is present.  I put my ear plugs in, cap and goggles on, and do a backstroke start.  I am under the water looking up.  Quiet; it’s so amazingly quiet.  The noise pollution of our world is gone.  I am solitary in my underwater world. The view is amazing; blues and greens masking what is actually just a few feet above.  The view reminds me of sea glass; obscuring reality in a beautiful artistry of distortion, and quiet.

When I was 16 I got pushed off a dock by some kids.  I landed with the small of my back on somebody’s knee in the water, and the result was a temporary paralysis.  I remember sinking, watching the colors change as the surface quietly receded.  The experience while haunting, was peaceful. I remember surrendering, because there was no other option without movement, and simply watching the subtleties of the world fade from light to dark. I remember my cousin’s hand grabbing me, pulling me back up, into the chaos of the accident.

Every time I swim, I reconnect with the peace and quiet cocoon of the water.  I love it.  I love especially the opportunity I have to experience again and again the quiet under the water, each time released by the power and delivered back to reality.