Early January and last year’s holiday is weighing in my body.

More clothing layers and a few extra pounds make me want to slow down, quit my brisk exercise, just stop fighting inertia.

I want to curl up, snack and read.

The colder winter weather whips at my morale.

The daily news, the state of the world, feels like another layer to bear.

Some days I want a break from holding my shoulders back, pushing through and toughing it out.

Instead, I head to the local pool.

Getting undressed at the locker, arms folded over shivering chest, there is an elderly woman next to me, talking to herself, or maybe to me.

She tells the room that she has to do re-hab and this is her first day, she will need to come all the way to the gym four days a week, take a cab.

She has a cane with 3 prongs at the base; she has propped it against the bench and I reach out to pick it up when it slides to the tiled floor.

It is hard to start up a new exercise routine. It’s hard to move our bodies at all some days.

I pull on my suit and head to the showers, then into the pool area.

Two small kids are screaming and splashing at eachother with water noodles and I shy away to the other side.

Silence, quiet, moving inward, trying to shed the cold air on my skin, to submerge.

The water is a little cool, but still it’s shimmery blue reflection with bright flags, is cheerful.

There is something about immersion, about going down deep, letting myself sink, that invites.

Through cloudy goggles all is hazy blue, and the world goes quiet.

All except for the exhalation of bubbles, the air coming from deep in my lungs, even deeper.

There’s almost a panic at the thought that all of this activity is happening all the time without thought.

The heartbeat and breath play in my ears. A hyper-awarenss. How full my and then how empty my lungs can be.

My shoulders pull the thick water, stroke after stroke. Suddenly I am lighter.

A pool’s lessons are so easy.

I glide in my lane, the ropes help rein in my self-consciousness.

Keep the head down, but not too far, sip the air, control the thrash of the lower body.

Stay in the lane. Focus.

Let the water hold me. Don’t fight it, ease into the cradling support.

Slice the water any which way, the water always calms, evens out.

The grace comes in finding my pace without trying.

Because today I want the least resistence – to let the stream of motion from my kicking legs propel my torso without much fight.

Who says we need to strive?

Life can be a buoyancy without any control at all.

Today, swimming doesn’t feel like giving up or giving in, it feels like rising.