Swimming at dawn started many days ago, from need. It started from restriction. It started because I felt I must do something, something to keep myself alive when the world around me seemed to be going crazy. I must go to the one place, outside my front door, that resonates life, bounty, mystery, joy, fear, passion - the sea. I must greet it each day. I must journey to the sea rain or shine, wind or peace, cloud or sun. Take it as it comes. Brave the elements. I must immerse myself one way or another in the waves, the pools, the cold saline water and discover what lay within and without.
Begin. Just begin and keep going. Trust the inner voice urging you to go.
I did it once and then I did it again and again and again. It became my daily journey to the sea. It became unexpectedly a journey to myself. In this blog I describe the sea, my journey, swimming, daily rebirth. communion with the elements. I didn't know when I began that it would become a daily ritual, a way to start my day, a way to reflect, a way to challenge myself and and a way to learn and grow. As I write I've gone to the sea more than 100 days in a row at dawn to greet the day, overcome resistance and apathy, contemplate life and nature and face whatever the sea has to offer. It has now become a part of me.
I took this photo on one of the first days. Dreary, overcast, as if the world had been bombed and I was the last survivor. The sun shone weakly through the clouds, giving no heat or light. Lonely, desolate. The only prints on the sand were mine.
The sea that day was calm, grey, dark. The tide was low. The mood, low.
The goal at first was immersion, contact with the water, dipping in. Braving the cold in the 4C weather. Stripping down to the elements and feeling the salty sting on my skin, the sudden aliveness, the rejuvenation, the infusion of hope, the merging of mind, body and spirit. Freedom.