Refuge

Some people like a forest to unwind in, with nothing but the sound of the wind and the songs of birds to break the silence. Others prefer to get into a car and drive away from their problems with the breeze blowing in the window and clearing their heads. Still others enjoy losing themselves in a good book. Or walking on a long beach with their feet in the water. I can also recommend taking a pottery class - slamming clay around is a fine stress reliever. At one time or another in my life, I have enjoyed all those ways to unwind, and been grateful for them.

Right now, this is my refuge. When I have answered all the builder's questions I can answer, listened to all the hammering I can stand, and reached my limit for construction dust, I grab my swim bag and go down to the pool to swim laps.

When I'm swimming laps, I'm alone. All alone. Even if I'm sharing a lane, I'm alone in the sound of the warm water rushing past my ears, the sound of my breathing, and the blissful solitariness of the lap swimmer. I don't have to interact as I would if I did water aerobics or aquaZumba. Instead, I can just settle into my own rhythm, moving precisely, parting the water softly.

No one asks me a more demanding question than "Mind if I share the lane?" and I can just chill out, not even counting strokes, or lengths. I make the turns automatically and push off for another lap without thinking.

Maybe that's the secret: I'm not thinking. I'm just letting the world and my concerns slide by like the water slides by my body. I'll be dry and back in the fray soon enough.