Everything is Happening All at Once

I’m leaving late today at a little after 1:30. It’s a super nice day and it looks like the wind is still calm based on what I see through the webcams.

I head to the beach and I’m really looking forward to getting in the water but I’m also really looking forward to just being done. I haven’t eaten and it’s getting late but if I don’t go today, then I might not be able to swim again until Monday at least looking at the weather forecast for the weekend.

I get to the beach parking lot and things are very pleasant. I’m trying to unwind my mind from work issues, which is what kept me from getting out here earlier and also what kept me from getting here yesterday. I have to say that eating and sleeping in a bed are not to be under appreciated and I can enjoy those things thanks to my job. Also, while I haven’t taken any official surveys, it seems that the rest of my family likes these things too. It’s not terrible. In fact it’s oddly good. We are on the edge of shipping a product that we have been working on for over a year. My goals are clear and my problems are tangible and all of the parameters are pretty well understood. I wish all of my problems in life were like that.

That all said, my mind is jumbled with work because there is just so many issues with this product and I’m hoping that leaving in the middle of the day is not letting anyone else down even though I have been working since 6:00 and it is like 1:00 AM for most in my team in India. I know that getting into this water will alleviate this stress and transform my current state of mind. It will pull me into the now and free me from the not yet.

As I walk down the stairs I try to settle myself. I watch my thoughts but don’t become part of their drama. Soon I can see the beach. The tide is pretty low. I look to see where the tractor is today and it looks like it is above the rocks on the north end of the beach and also looks like it is done with its work for the week. I also notice that my beloved Jupiter rock is practically over run by the surrounding boulders. For some reason this makes me kind of sad. I have become accustomed to greeting this rock as it has been over the past few years and now it has changed. Somebody moved the cheese.

I lay down my pack about 50 feet north from its usual spot to avoid the sun bathers. I settle my things and I realize that I left my towel at home. What?! It’s ok. If today is like 99% of other days, I will not need it. Like the Jupiter rock, it’s just nice to know that it is here in its place like it is every day and despite any stress caused by surf and cold water, I can at least depend on these things to be constant. But perhaps I can’t and perhaps I shouldn’t.

I haead into the water. It all feels generally the same as Wednesday. The bottom seems particularly uneven and I climb and descend sandy slopes as I make my way out to the main surf break. A set rolls in and breaks in front of me so I dive under and down to the sandy bottom and look up to the surface through this carbonated water and push through to what looks like blue surface water that is safely past breaking waves.

So I swim south and it is a delightful swim. My mind fights thoughts that want to be right here right now and merge with the water just as it is - cold and bumpy - as well as other thoughts that want it to be over with and at home and eating and warm. All of these things can and will happen. As I perceive my world, one thing must come after the other but I sense there is a reality where all is mixed in together and all is happening all at once. Is the cold now and the food later or is it all entangled in a space that envelops all of my lives past, present and future.

I love the light at this time of day just like I love the light in the morning and the mid morning and the evening. They are all so different and lovely but I’m not out here at this time often so this is unique. The light is bright and reflects off of the surface of the water that gives every breath when I crest the surface a dreamy quality. I see sky and water and light all comingled together and not necesarily in the orderly configuration one is accustomed to seeing these things. Where is the sky? Where is the water? I know where the light is, it’s everywhere. I know the sky and water are here and that’s enough.

As I face downward toward the ocean floor, it all looks so dark. I can’t really see a thing. I have to actually focus my attention on my arms because in the haze of swimming I have started to wonder if I can see them so I put my attention on them to satisfy this curiosity. Can I see them? Or do they just descend and disappear into some kind of nothingness. Nope. I can see them. There they are clear as day.

The cold comes and goes. The water temperature does not feel all that different from Wednesday. All in all it is still good and very manageable. I swim through stretches that seem downright warm and others that are downright not. Past the half way mark my body tries to fool me and make me believe that I have past some imaginary threshold where cold can consume me. It does not. In these times I try to become hyper aware of the cold and exactly how it feels rolling over my body. I feel cold in my upper left arm and then I follow it to a sensation of goose bumps in my lower right leg.

I swim and I swim and I swim. All the while I feel like I am going nowhere and yet I am making my way along the shore like I have done on all of the other swims and soon I will be finished. I get to the northern end and I’m just about 10 minutes from the finish. I stop and look around me. I’m cold but not cold. I feel good right here and I recall the feelings I have had along the way and wonder if they were really from the same swim.

I finish up the swim. At first it feels like I am making 0 progress but I know this can’t be true so I just commit to my stroke and trust that it will get me to where I am heading and sure enough it does. Soon I can feel my feet on the sand. I debate to walk all of the way or swim to a shallower depth. I just walk and find myself on this rolling floor that rises and falls.

I grab my pack and head up the stairs. The sun is pretty great and the hand rail here is also akin to the love of God on my numb right hand. I climb and climb and the sun’s presence is palpable all of the way. Work is now well behind me and food is that much closer.