Today I pulled my selkie suit down off the hanger and took it for a swim.
The tide was low when I headed out at 10:15am to the road end. Without a moments hesitation, I let go of my habit of “skin swims” and wisely opted to dress like the seal I wish I was and enjoy a good swim today.
Time was limited, and this was my window. I had band practice, kid taxi rides, picking up my dad and a visit with my cousin and hosting outdoor dinner with my parents scheduled for the rest of the day. All would require a fair amount of physical and emotional energy—this morning was my moment to be free and clear my mind.
There was no time to deliberate and wrestle the cold.
At the water’s edge, my seal suit on and yellow cap in hand, I quickly stepped in over the barnacled rocks. I had forgotten how warm my suit is, and felt nothing but sheer delight looking out over the quiet waters, my feet bare and pure joy brimming over as I realized that I need not waste a single precious moment getting used to the cold.
I was already a seal.
Black blubber suit in place and my goggles strapped on, I splashed clear cold water on my face and looked west at the Olympics barely capped with snow, then south then north, contemplating my morning route. Weighing the pros and cons. The southern route was familiar and I had memorized the lineup of houses and bulkheads and buoys. The northern route is much less familiar, and I had only ventured that direction once before. The sunlight helped me decide, as the southern route was still fully shaded by the trees.
Today I chose the light, the warmth. The route to my right, facing west was aglow in the morning sun.
North I would go.
With my first dive under into the clearest water I’ve seen all summer, I knew my little decisions added up to the perfect sum.
I powered forward, floating higher than usual in my selkie suit, scanning the bottom for crabs and other critters among the yellowish barnacle-crusted rocks. Broken lines of sunlight dappled the rocks below me as I marveled in the comfort of the weightlessness of swimming once again.
I swam north, across the opening to Fletcher Bay, then on along the high bank waterfront with no houses to distract from the natural beauty all around me.
I felt spoiled. Exuberant and so very happy to be visiting this watery home once more. My suit also reminded me of how warm I could be in the coming months, when the sky and water blend into one grey mass—cold wet walls of drizzle.
I will swim then. I must. How can I give up swimming where there is no edge, no limit, no end in sight—just an endless world of saltwater brimming with life?
A world so linked to ours and yet so very far apart. So invisible. So secret.
As the late August sun starts to fade and the cold mornings hint of Fall, my greatest fear is how to not lose this water time when winter finally does arrive.
Freedom. I have found freedom and space amongst strands of seaweed and tiny schools of black fish and sunken oyster beds and moon snail nests. I will continue to find freedom here, even when the rains come.
I will keep searching for treasures, and clarity while the world heaves and grieves and thrashes about.
I returned to shore today with this moon snail. It caught my eye and to reach it I had to unhook my float belt. My first dive with the belt on kept me tethered to the surface, just out of reach of this marvelous shell.
To dive down, I had to let go. Just as for this swim I had to let go of the silly notion that I couldn’t swim yet with a wetsuit, because it’s still August. As if there is some reason why I have to wait for fall to officially begin or the temperatures to drop to some arbitrary amount prior to donning a wetsuit.
Back at the truck I peeled my suit off the only way I know how—from the top down like peeling a banana. Turning the suit inside out, exposing the fuzzy orange interior, I thought about the ridiculous rules and self-imposed mandates we make upon ourselves everyday.
We carry such burdens around for no good reason other than to cause unnecessary suffering. There is already plenty of suffering in this world. Already so much work to do. So much healing and reconciliation and acceptance needed.
Maybe our job is to keep swimming towards the light. Find warmth. Look for the hidden treasures of the people all around us.
There is good in this world.
We just need to keep our goggles clear so we can keep finding our path forward, and keep our buoys close to help us stay afloat.
And we need to put on a selkie skin once in awhile to get outside of ourselves and remember that we all started life in the water.
Mary Swims 