Many of us find ourselves seeking water as warm weather approaches.
We are drawn to the crashing waves of the ocean, the still waters of the community pool, the gently meandering trickle of a country creek.
Our busy lives have a way of taking us away from our quiet minds, from our easy breath, from the looseness of limbs that comes when we are out in nature. With the end of spring comes the end of the school year frenzy, the end of the fiscal year reflection, the stripping of self that comes with shedding winter’s clothing and opening windows that have been closed and silent many months.
It can be overwhelming to the inner self that thrives on living inside a quiet mind.
When the long days become taxing, I find myself drawn to the water. The only source of water therapy during the long Midwestern winter is the bathtub and my bones begin to ache for a pool of water that has been warmed by the sun and lit up my the moon.
I seek and find a source of relief for my water weary soul.
I step into the cool water, which immediately supports my discontented body in a way no other Earthly substance can. I allow the water to support my body as I float heavenward on the coiled rods of tension in my back and the water demands that I give the tautness to her as a sacrifice, the first of many.
She, in her gentle but firm way, will not allow any constriction here. This is a place of freedom and she will punish each thought of ingratitude, each moment of muscle tension by plunging me further into herself and threatening to push me under. In her unwillingness to allow me to fall back into patterns of self-limitation, she allows me complete freedom to simply be.
I float, the sun on my face-kissing away my tears.
I float, limbs loosening as all pain is dropped into the water, easily submissive to the demands of the velvet liquid beneath me.
I float with easy breaths, thoughts dropping from my mind as if over-ripe apples from a tree that are trusting the wind to bring them safely to the ground.
The more empty my mind, the easier I float. I lose myself into seconds, then minutes, hours.
Until the sun has set, and I feel the chill of dusk upon my skin.
Until I feel the delightful emptiness of mind that calls upon me to create a new existence.
I walk slowly out of the water towards the waiting comfort of a thick towel. I am soaked to the core and should feel heavier, laden. But, there is no heaviness here.
I am lightness. I am air. I am water. I am Earth.
Author: Amanda Redhead
Editor: Cat Beekmans
Photo: Rachel Rae/Flickr