SWIM
Yet… I do not collect air music, it is ‘water music’ of which I take note. I have never caught myself driven to find ways to more properly revere and celebrate air like I have water since early on: water pounding on my head dripping off my face in the shower room after swim lessons as I swayed there lost in thought not noticing til then even the last few girls had left. Why would someone leave their shower on? back to my water reverie: something like ‘what proper water celebration might entail’. Idk like a water kingdom where inhabitants celebrated and did wonderful amazing works with water. . .i thought about as I moved from/through shower to shower (having then turned on all of them — I remember (suddenly the memory unfolds more) a cluster of showers served as the refreshingly cool portion) of the water celebration circuit.
some years later standing in the showers after swim team more about pure exhaustion (45 minutes laps for warmup), rhythm of the shower beating walking consciousness back into me. Even more like proper water celebration venue: big olympic pool with half-pool bridge thing could swim under, skylit massive glass ceilings, diving boards platforms, hot tubs, even neat hexagonal shaped patterns to the showers. rhythms sounds sensations of water
In cold lands swimming happened in pools and summer lakes. No prep really for epic water celebration of ocean (at least kind-of ocean such as I’ve experienced so far). The gulf upped water celebration and opened a whole new perpendicular: dissolverging with ocean.
Sunset or later, but day is great too, with a fire on deserted beach is nice, but rain and clouds are grand as well // don’t care as long as I can swim where/how long I want. giving myself completely to the ocean, swim out past where I can stand and stretch out on my back. Sometimes it’s about trust and letting it dip my head underwater until I relax the rest of the way and notice breathing is effortless no matter how much splashing happens if I relax and trust. Sometimes it’s all about the stars splayed out above. or the heat of my body against the perfect cool slipperiness rocking cradled in the heart of it All. Whatever it washes up or whichever shores I wash up on, I trust the ocean. Just suddenly don’t know how I have gone so long being so satisfied with the gulf/not-real-ocean, besides it being so satisfying and all, what am I waiting for
Posted by nirec on April 4th, 2015 in Miscellaneous. Both comments and pings are currently closed.