Left the house early today at 6:20. I’m definitely thankful for the time change giving me some light. Also, it’s not so terribly cold this morning. We have stayed north of 50.

According to the surf report, there is an offshore breeze blowing at about 7 knots which isn’t too bad. As I pass Doheny, the ocean surface looks a bit textured.

I get to the parking lot and I can feel the small breeze. Water looks smoother here than Doheny. It’s a beautiful morning with a super clear view of Catalina.

At the top of the stairs someone has some rap music blasting loudly. It seems out of place here and creates a sort of alternate, parallel experience to the one I see in front of me.

I get to the beach and it is high tide. The water comes up almost to the rocks. I set down my stuff, shed my sweatshirt and t-shirt, and head to the water.

Things do not feel too crazy cold. I dive in and let the cold wash over and through me.

The water is really clear here just past the surf. I can see the grooves in the sand and dive down to get a better look. That dive sucks the energy from my lungs and thighs. I forget how the initial cold plunge steals your breath.

I resurface and rebalance and ease into my rhythm as I make my way south. The water feels good. I feel the cold but every now and then I get this sensation of my hand plunging into warmer water.

I keep moving forward. The light is shady here but I can sense the sun hiding just behind the cliffs. Every so often, it peeks through a notch on the ridge and a beam of light wanders into my periphery.

I am staying with my breath and searching for an essence of something that sits just below the surface right here. I’m swimming past the monsters that skate from my thoughts and through the water and escape over the horizon. The horizon. It’s anchored solid and true and unaffected by the phantoms of my mind. My breath finds its way to its edge and rests in a warmth of exhale that hovers over this cold water.

I turn to head back north. My core slowly grows colder. I remain in the exhalation. It’s carrying the fire that burns in my solar plexus. I notice as belief fights fear. Will this cold overcome me? I calm my thoughts and see more clearly. Every several minutes I look up for the lifeguard tower at Salt Creek point. It is bright white in the sun. It is a beacon that pulls me toward it.

The sun has risen well above the cliffs now and the light shines bright into the water. Its a welcome presence. The shore still looks dark but the sun gains more ground with every minute.

The beauty here is exquisite but I don’t like to pause in the cold. I keep moving. As I near the point I begin to see other swimmers around me. Looks like the usual Sunday crowd. They glide by as I stop to turn around and head back south. I hear an announcer saying, “well welcome everyone.” Who is he talking to? Is he talking to me and the other swimmers? Well thanks! It’s good to be here! I actually think he is part of the weekend’s surf competition and is talking to those on the other side of the point.

I’m heading south now on the final leg. I can do this. I am fighting belief. Struggling to exchange one for the other. I am the one who creates them. I lean toward calm. I loosen my jaw and relax the back of my neck where fear tries to take hold and tell me that the cold is too much. As I relax and let the cold be cold and nothing more, I am struck by the stunning view of the light on the shore and the water.

I turn directly east now and head toward the beached tree where I stashed my backpack.

This is definitely a morning where I will take the time to towel off and put on a couple layers. The sweatshirt feels good. I couldn’t ask for a better view as I dry here with the swim behind me.

I head to the stairs and make my way up to the parking lot.

I remember these mornings from last year. There is a sweet satisfaction of what I just experienced but I still need to steady myself with every exhale. I push the air out very consciously and grab whatever warmth I can as I do. My feet grow colder and colder until they feel like dead stumps by the time I get to the top.

The shower by the restrooms actually feels good on my feet. Not warm but a cool soothing feeling that gives life to my dead feet.

I take a hot shower at home before church. I wrestle with my thoughts of group religious engagement in this post modern world we live in. I welcome the opportunity to set aside my rational, analytical mind and open my heart to the poetry of the songs we will sing. I think of passages from the bible and embrace their mystical quality. I think of God in the words of 1 John - “the one who is from the beginning.” From the beginning. I think of the beginning and my left brain can only fall into a spiral as each moment must include one that precedes it and so on an so on and so on. My right brain settles into eternity. I watch as my mind becomes agitated with those who want to spin this right brain experience through a left brain lense. As if I have some skin in the game that needs to argue.

I remember the swim. I remember the struggle of belief and the remedy of breath and now this agitation subsides and I go to church and let myself have the experience it gives me and don’t bother myself with whatever anyone else is thinking. They will have their own experience and by the looks of things they seem to be better for it.