Swimming for My Life
October 31, 2020 Hunter’s Moon rising over Boomerang Creek
Following the November 2016 elections, I felt like I was drowning in a political nightmare and did the only thing I could think of to save myself. I joined a local fitness club with a saltwater pool and started swimming for my life. I hadn’t done any serious swimming since my early teens but was convinced it would be like riding a bicycle. Once learned, it would be as if I’d never missed a day in the pool. And so, I gathered together the gear that I needed—suit, goggles, and bathing cap--and literally made the plunge.
Not surprisingly, I could barely swim 25 meters without stopping midway. Mentally, I knew the strokes, but there was the matter of endurance. Overhead banners cheered me on. “When our arms get tired, swim with your heart.” And as if reading my mind, another banner read: “Don’t count laps but instead, count progress.” I had to remind my brain how to coordinate my breathing with my legs and arms. It would take time and a real commitment to be the swimmer I once was, but once in the water, I knew it was where I needed to be.
Over time, swimming became a solitary meditation—an escape from the noise of the world. Before long, I started breathing like a swimmer and felt healthy again in both body and mind. Gradually, an amazing thing happened whenever I reentered the water. The sound and movement of other swimmers fell away. A cobalt blue stipe painted on the bottom of the pool guided my forward motion and helped me channel my thoughts without interruptions. What began as a way to escape the dysfunctional swamp that American politics had become kept me afloat for a while—but it was not enough.
At a certain point, I had to resurface and reengage. America was rapidly becoming a country I no longer recognized—one where checks and balances no longer existed. Elected officials appeared to have lost their moral compass and the capacity for acts of kindness and compassion. Political discourse was as uncivil in the two houses of Congress as it became in angry Tweets directed an anyone who questioned White House authority.
Then a year ago, a global pandemic changed the world as we’ve known it. Downplaying the seriousness of the coronavirus to our nation’s health, the White House continued to ignore science and treats the deadly virus like little more than a bothersome fly. As America faces a frightening new wave of COVID-19 cases with no end in sight, there continues to be no national leadership by example on wearing masks, social distancing, or avoiding mass gatherings.
In late October, I turned 75. Due to COVID-19, swimming in a saltwater pool was no longer an option for coping with political stress. Instead, I reconnected with some high school classmates from McLean, Virginia where my family lived from 1958-62. Over the 58 years since graduation, I’d lost touch with them and their lives. This past year, that changed. Politics and social media reconnected a group of us, and we’re now keeping each other afloat in the sea of uncertainty we’re all dealing with on a daily basis.
Rather than drown in information overload and a deluge of disinformation, we share articles and opinions on political issues and our hopes for the future. For balance, I’ve been sharing weekly essays on autumn at Boomerang Creek, images of October’s Harvest and Hunter’s moons, and comfort food recipes to feed the spirit. I don’t know what our world will look like in the days and weeks ahead, but I remain hopeful knowing that a record number of Americans across the country have cast their votes by mail and absentee ballot because, like me, they believe that treading water is not an option in this election.
Soon we will learn who “We the People” have chosen to lead America forward. At last, we are almost there.