Doing my homework today. Like it, or not, doing it.
Walking in the water, standing up to my neck in water and walking and it’s cold. I’m forcing myself into that pool every day now, or nearly so. Sometimes I get into the hot tub first because strange as it sounds, coming out of the nice, warm water makes it easier to get into the cold.
Standing there, I can’t stand still; it’s too cold. I start to walk.
“No hands, Mom.”
I am just using feet, today.
Pushing the water forward with my body but not using my arms, really feeling the resistance.
Resistance is a good thing. It tells me where I am and it’s an indicator of where I want to go.
My body is neutralized in the pool. It cannot help me, I can’t fall forward in some kind of metronomic movement or I will take a drink…
In fact, it hinders my progress by resisting all that water and it’s cold and I don’t want to be there.
So I push with my leg, feeling the floor of the swimming pool as much as I can because up to my neck in water, I start to float. I’m one of those buoyant people who floats, I’m not like my father; he’s a sinker. Drop him in water and he goes under. I float; I never could win those wars as a kid, when the swimming teacher throws pennies and nickels into the pool and you have to hold your breath and dive for them.
Pushing with the ball of my foot that’s all that really has contact with the floor. PUSH hard and I move forward incrementally and then the other foot comes to the floor and I PUSH again.
Wanting to walk backwards, putting the toe down and feeling the floor, pushing backwards and feeling the back of my shoulders and neck going back into the water. The water both holds me up and resists my progress; I don’t sense the water as much as feeling the effort in my legs.
I can tell the back of my neck goes back because I feel water pressing me there.
The resistance of the water tells me where I am and where I want to go.
On the dance floor last night, pressing the floor with the ball of my foot, pushing it away and then the heel pressing down, feeling the floor with both feet under me; stable…not like the pool where one false move and I float backwards, seeing the sky and drinking the water….
Suddenly dance is easier; the air doesn’t resist my movement as water does.
Then I realize it’s also harder to aim myself where I want to go.
I need a partner to be like water. I want to be like water for my partner, too…
Thank you, swimming pool.
For the water.
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