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I'm desperate to get to the portal. When I dive through it I enter into another universe, another world that lies beneath.
I know that others all over the world are longing for the same thing. It's like we have a whole village of people spread over both hemispheres who enter their own portals. Whether it's the sea, a river or a pool and somehow the waters are all connected, we all end up in the same place. A place of calm and comfort, no matter what the season or the water temperature, we all breathe easier after a swim. Standing on the edge of the water I unintentionally take a deep breath in, it happens like a reflex when I’m by the sea. I love being here. The sand that is untouched is in a corrugated pattern just as the water has left it as it receded back into the pacific.
I concentrate not to step on the lone dead bees that lie along the beach today. The air is noticeably cool but the water temperature is kind to me. When I start to swim my shadow is slightly behind me and keeps startling me when I see it move. Somehow it seems separate to me, taunting me, making me look back at it, just like something from your past. I think the water is cloudy but it turns out I just need new goggles, when I clear them I see the weed in detail and a school of big fish pass by. Near the end of my swim, the sun has moved slightly and my shadow and I are swimming beside each other in unison. We’re in agreement, we’re swimming in harmony with a pact to look ahead and no longer behind. I’ve made the wrong decision today, I’ve brought my old wetsuit. It has a few holes in it, it’s still damp and cold from yesterday and when I tentatively ease in to cross the river, the excruciatingly cold water leaks through the stretched zipper causing me to arch my back in a futile attempt at avoidance. On our walk up the beach I’m treated to stories of times past, of steam trains, childhood adventures and the first time there was telly. I imagine what it would be like to parent without the constant negotiation of screen time except that instead the kids are shooting rabbits with a 22. I’m left wondering which is more dangerous. I'm determined to raise my heart rate a little today after a three year old politely told me that I look like a whale on the very same day that my own six year old asked me why I look so much bigger now compared to in our wedding photos. I love how both are innocently unaware of what their comments suggest to me. It’s stunning. From every angle, it’s stunning. The sky is clear the water is inviting. The strong tide demands that we join its route and we willingly oblige. The water temperature changes constantly throughout our swim, there are warm wisps of ocean water separated by little pockets of iciness. I find myself persevering through the cold parts like you do a bad day.
There's something big in the water, we climb up onto some rocks to see if we can work out what it is. Relieved we see that it's a big school of fish, who's teeth are hopefully small, and there's nothing bigger chasing them.
I’ve got that buzzy feeling, kind of a mix between being on a roller coaster and standing on the edge of a cliff as well as the feeling you get before starting a race. But not the good kind of feeling when you're doing those things. Not the feeling of anticipation that something fun is just about to happen, the very opposite. My hands are shaking, I can feel my heart beating, so I take a few deep breaths. I was fortunate enough to speak to Nick Rheinberger on ABC Illawarra this morning before my swim. Click on the link if you'd like to listen.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ooclsdHox2eGj-BkZg_8uapdoWc2nF-t/view |
AuthorKirrilee Archives
September 2018
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