Just Keep Swimming
One of the lessons we are all learning from coronavirus is that we cannot take anything for granted. My husband has a saying, “we never know, we only think we know.” Now more than ever, we just do not know.
Shauna Ruda wrote, “the reality for all of us, we must learn to live without them (our parents), they will not be here forever.”
Being a part of the national chevra kadisha movement, I have learned about the importance of storytelling to help with the grief process. Our bodies die, the soul will live on, and stories will live for generations.
We are the keepers of the stories of our loved ones. My grandparents and father live in the stories we tell about them, and when our time comes, we will live in the stories our nearest and dearest tell about us.
As I’ve come to accept the idea that our stories live forever, I have taken the time to listen to my mother's stories. Since we never really know, and she is here to share, I'm all ears. All I can say is, who knew? I had no idea.
One such story:
My mother Eunice, born in 1938, remembers spending all of her summers alone and lonely. She was the youngest of two children and she did not know where her brother was on those hot summer days. The activity that kept her busy was washing her doll clothes, letting them dry in the sun, ironing them, and then dressing her dolls. Between being her dolls’ laundress and making grilled cheese sandwiches, she stayed occupied. Bored, yet occupied.
One day while rummaging through her mother's closet, she found a jar of dimes. She decided, at 12 years old, she would use a dime to take two buses to get to the public swimming pool.
Life had opened up!
She had no fear of being a 12-year-old riding two buses alone, in a midriff and shorts. She noted, “we weren’t afraid in those days of the things you are afraid of now.”
Summer had changed, her days were spent with friends. Swimming, dancing and socializing. Mom notes, “I had no idea where my older brother was, or what he was doing day in and day out, so I had no problem letting him get blamed by my mother for stealing the dimes.”
Swimming and the pool became the greatest of escapes for my mother. She learned to love the water, loved to swim and has passed that on, somehow, to me and me to my children.
Pre-coronavirus, each night I would check my weather app. You might think I was looking to know if I wear tights and boots, leggings and closed toe shoes, or sandals, but was really looking to see if the temperature outside would be over 55 degrees. Over 55 means I can swim in the outside pool at the JCC. What a blessing: year-round outdoor swimming, in Denver Colorado.
I am a pool lover. I love to swim! As children, our destination every weekend was the pool. First stop, the green store by the railroad tracks, where we’d pick up provisions to spend the whole day at the pool: rolls and a pound of bologna.
We moved on up to a new club, Willow Glen Swim Club. Just saying it reminds me of the lazy days of summer. Snowballs, pizza, and friends. Always surrounded by friends. The beach every summer. Ocean City, Maryland. The hotels had pools. And, as kids we lived in an apartment with a pool where my friends and I would hang out all afternoon.
When I was old enough to go to sleepaway camp, another privilege, I learned to dive. I really wasn’t that good, however I loved being in the water.
As an adult the pool is the place I go to ground myself during transitions.
Just keep swimming.
Says Dory the fish with amnesia from Finding Nemo. She reminds herself over and over again to just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. A fish, whose natural instinct to swim is like a human's natural instinct to breathe.
Ironic that at this time we just need to keep breathing.
I also love the saying because I am a swimmer. I am a swimmer, or I was a swimmer? I’m not sure.
I am grateful for the ability to take in long deep breaths every day. I practice breathing meditation to remind me how fortunate I am. If asked what is the thing I miss the most during the Coronavirus pandemic, besides my family and friends. Swimming.
Swimming is not just a physical exercise, it has become a form of meditation, a hitbodedut (meditative self-seclusion). The uber mystical Rebbe Nachman, reviver of the Hasidic movement, taught that it’s best to find a location which is conducive to meditation and which will allow you to concentrate on your words undisturbed. A private room is good, a park better, out in the fields or forests still better. A swimming pool, for me, even better.
It takes me about 10 minutes to actually lose track of time.
One stroke after the other. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. Concentration on the miracle of the human body, breathing, moving, breathing.
People ask me how far I swim… I am not sure, ½ hour a day and then onward to conquer the world. I’ve learned new skills in the pool. Flip turns, two sided breathing, and the idea of pushing on when you just want to stop. My laps have become a metaphor for life.
If I can stay in the pool and do those extra laps I can push on in life. The discipline flows into many of my experiences.
One of my greatest pleasures is swimming alongside my sons. When we are in the pool side by side, there is this amazing sense of connection. It might come from the fact that like my mom shared her love of swimming with me, I shared it with them.
Sunday mornings at the JCC I often found a 93 year old woman swimming with her son. They made a day of it. They would swim, go to lunch and repeat the tradition each Sunday. I want to be her one day!
My son, Jules, swims in the Mediterranean Sea. I would love to swim with him in the sea. I think I am a strong enough swimmer HOWEVER I am too anxious. When I get out past the breakers my mind goes nuts. I can’t touch the ground, are there fish? Are there other things around me? What if I can’t get back to shore, what if I can’t get back to shore, what if I can’t get back to shore. What if….
Right now, my head is filled with what ifs.
It is a constant exercise to replace the troublesome, scary, what ifs with positive uplifting what ifs. When my brain zigs… I need to help it zag. I find trust and comfort in the angels that are around me helping me reframe, always working to reframe.
When I turned 50, I had a goal to do a ½ triathlon. Ambitious since I am not an athlete. And I knew I could do the swim. Entering the open water I was quite nervous. I had never swam in open water before. I became preoccupied with the individuals floating on styrofoam noodles in colored bathing caps. They were there to keep the swimmers on their course. Without them who knows where we would have wound up.
I saw these floating individuals as angels and I began to refer to them as angels on noodles. Angels, put there to keep us on our paths. After my swim, I told a Rabbi about the metaphor for the angels on noodles. He affirmed my belief that there are in fact angels all around us, we just can’t see them. They are here, keeping and guiding us on our paths.
During this pandemic...we have to breathe deeply, and just keep swimming.
In a recent letter from my mother, she writes, “today we are in good health but we recognize this could change in a second. We will always love each of you and will always look after you from our new residence.”
JUST KEEP SWIMMING!
