I Am the Buoy

I left the house at 11:30. It has been super cloudy all morning. Earlier it was drizzling and then it graduated to whatever is the next level after drizzle. I’m guessing this is all from tropical storm Eugene. I did not think it would clear up until mid afternoon at least.

However as I am leaving for the beach, the clouds are starting to clear and there are some serious gaps of blue expanding.

When I get to the beach, it is still mostly cloudy but things are definitely in a state of transition. It is definitely warm and what sun that is making it through the clouds sure feels good.

It’s mid to low tide and surf is small. Water is still warm. Surfline upgraded the temperature to 72 degrees a couple days ago and things are supposed to stay mostly where they are through the weekend at least.

I make my way out into the water and it is definitely on the rough and tumble side today. It is hard to tell what direction the water is moving in. Both the south and northern legs of the swim feel like they require a lot of effort.

Regardless of the effort, it sure is easy to tolerate this temperature.

The initial south bound part of the swim definitely feels cloudy and grey, but almost as soon as I turn around, I can see the sun in my periphery just behind me. The farther I go the sunnier it feels.

Oh that sun. Is that what I feel on my back? Is it possible to feel it under the water? I think I do and I want more. It feels like hope. It was so cloudy before and now it is not and it appears to become even more not and I hope that it will totally be not and I feel it becoming not cloudy. I feel it becoming more sunny.

The surface is so bumpy today. I just try to let my body go with the movement of the water. At times it seems like I certainly cannot be making any headway but I just trust that as long as I keep moving my arms and my legs, I’ll get to the other end of the beach in about the same amount of time as it usually takes. This is how it always goes.

I imagine that I am the buoy - bobbing up over wakes and occasionally being submerged underneath them. With every breath I extinguish my struggle and effort and let myself drift to where I am intended to drift.

There is something between the summit of effort and the summit of surrender. I gaze into a trough of authenticity and wonder how can I remain in that divide. How can I navigate effort and no effort? How can I let my effort go and how can I fall into the center of my effort that folds into a crease leading into who I am?

I open myself up to the edge of the water and sky that is always there when I lift my head above water. The edge is far from level or straight today. Sometimes it looks like it is forever away and sometimes it is literally smashing into my face and it rolls over my eyes in sheets.

The sun shimmers on the surface at constantly changing angles. My goggles fog up and everything starts looking like a blur and I stop to clear them out.

I look at the sky over Salt Creek and it is now largely blue with several white puffs floating above. I look below the water and see several bass. I always seem to see them in this same spot over the last couple weeks. They must like the warm water.

I finally get to the end and turn around to finish things off. My body is feeling pretty tired. I can’t imagine swimming in this spin cycle much longer.

I make my way to shore and it is definitely a bright summer day now. Eugene? I don’t know who you are.