Plunging into cold water

Wednesday 22^nd September 2010: Annecy FR.  

Losing your breath as you plunge your whole body into lake water isn’t really what I thought I would do. Every part of my body was crying out as the temperatures changed from comfortable to not. One of the problems with ‘dipping your toes in’ is that it’s too easy to get out. You don't take much persuasion as you descend into the water that it is too cold, too wet, too everything. That’s why I didn’t do that. It was all or nothing. My favourite mantra.

As my body felt the water surround me, I wanted to turn into a mermaid and swim into the unknown. Further and further out to where the waters are clear and there are no noises but the deep watery ones. It was just a moment’s thought, but it made me feel something deep and pure. Something needed in the desert I am wandering in.

Water, an element so deep that we don't really understand it fully. We need it desperately to survive, but a few inches of it is enough to kill me. It washes away all the things we don't want away. Dirty dish water, bath water, and everything in between. We waste it, but it comes back to us. It has been around since the birth of time, yet it looks as young as a fresh morning breeze. We want it, but we pollute it, our bodies need to drink it pure, yet we contaminate it with cordials and try to make it what we want. It fills us, and it can empty us. But it remains the same clear liquid, even though we done. It can fill the greatest of capacity, but we don't think about it. It fills the sea, the rivers and streams. It can fill us.

It was a good swim, and I vow to myself that if the weather is good again tomorrow then I will come and spend the afternoon here.