Swimming

I swim. Its been more than two decades since I took to swimming - seriously. I swim for a variety of reasons - most very common. I swim for exercise, to de-stress, to take a break from staring at a screen, to help preserve a bad back. But I also swim to meditate, to play, to compete against my own self, to see if I can swim longer, faster, better, stroke counts without breath, under water, just feet paddle, and the list goes on. In other words, I swim, and I really like it. Almost unconsciously I have acquired a habit of clocking my swimming. And to my surprise, I discovered something interesting today.

Usually after a number of warm up laps, I start swimming fast. I consciously speed up, beat my legs harder, move my hands faster. Then slow down on my last lap and flip over floating and looking at sky while catching my breath and then jump out. Today I forgot to do that. I got too engrossed staring at the perfect butterflies coming together with a bubble heart in reflection in a breast stroke and the quiet paddle sound of rowing in the freestyle. I got too absorbed watching and listening to myself swim. And at getting out - found that I had broken all my previous records.

I had swum faster in effortless silence than in furious conscious speed. Interesting, huh?

Nude

Sometimes when the head boils and the heart brims, I take to a woodblock and with a mallet, chisel away at all that should not be, in the head, and the heart, and racing blood streams. I chip away in intense gouges, ripping lengths, molding curves and shapes, till nothing remains covered, hidden - and all burden is lightened.

A Trip to Coorg