“You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” —Rabindranath Tagore
Justine and I have been swimming a lot lately. It’s been so uncomfortably hot this summer and my good friend Sandy, who lives nearby, lets us use her pool whenever we ask. This is the same pool that I spent so many mornings in the weeks after Vernon died. It seemed like I always wanted to be in the water then. In the hospice weeks, when I stayed in hotels near the nursing home, I made sure they all had swimming pools and dipped in every afternoon. I’d never been much of a swimmer, but feeling weightless in the water must have brought some kind of comfort. Being underwater felt more like being in another world—a silent, dappled universe so distant from the dry land of humans and all its stress and death. I wanted to grow gils so I’d never have to return to the surface. I worked at holding my breath longer.
I decided I wanted to become a swimmer. The bottom had fallen out of all the systems I thought I could trust, reality was unreal. Why shouldn’t I become a swimmer if I decided to? I could be anything. After all, I had no identity for that period time: stripped down to simply being a woman vaguely in charge of some children. I bought goggles and a rubber cap. I imagined that with practice, I’d soon be doing fifty laps without stopping. But of course I was very sloppy. Just a few laps would wind me—it’s hard on the lungs, this exercise. I had no clue how to pace myself. And after that first month or so, when the morning air got cooler, I forgot my ambitions and tried something else to ease my grief and help me move forward: What would I be? I could be anything. I could learn anything. But I still didn’t know what I wanted. I was merely trying things out to see what would help, what would stick. All I knew is that my old life was behind me, and I was someone new that had never existed before. I didn’t know my own self anymore. I didn’t know her yet.
Now, I’m far from an excellent swimmer, but I’m better than I used to be, and I love being in the pool. My alien new self feels at home immediately. At this significant time of year, I’ve been thinking about the water and how many times I used that metaphor to describe parts of our journey with the ailing Vernon: mermaids, scuba diving, sea mammals surfacing…the sensation of drowning, This entry about the Ocean was posted after Vernon died exactly two years ago today. To my mind, its the most significant thing I’ve ever written. (I hope it stays that way.)
I want to stretch out a little more on the subject of swimming and talk about the healing the old stories that we’ve let define us. The summer I was twelve, while boogie-boarding with my friends at a San Clemente beach, I got caught in a rip tide. I would have drowned if a lifeguard hadn’t finally seen me and fished me out. I was terrified and humbled, and because my family moved away at the end of that summer, I never had to face my fear by getting back in the water. When we’d visit, I’d just stay on the shore. Playing in those waves didn’t appeal to me at all. But earlier this month, at our family reunion, a group of us went to the beach. I watched my younger brother dive in and start body surfing in the waves. He looked so great and natural, as if he was part dolphin, having so much fun. As I watched him, I had such a strong impulse that I wanted to have that kind of fun too. Suddenly it was time. I marched down to the water, unusually warm for California (turns out it was a record temperature that day, lucky me!) and made my way to him. “I want to do what you are doing. Show me how!” And we played and laughed and dunked under the waves together like kids. My arms felt strong, I knew I could swim. In that moment, my story had completely changed. I was now someone who enjoyed being in the sea. I wasn’t afraid. I was no longer living the story I’d believed for so long. At the end of the weekend, my brother and I agreed that that day was the highlight for both of us—we had so much fun together and felt so free.
Of course we all want to avoid trauma, but in time, and with work, its not without its gifts. It transforms you…and sometimes even makes pathways to healing that you never would have discovered without it.
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I recently read where God was being described as the Great Weaver. Our history has woven a unique design, with various threads and fabrics. Then something rips it. We’re rather taken back, but God then re-weaves. He takes the tear and begins bringing new and different material and melding it with what’s already there. A new picture slowly begins to appear, and it’s always beautiful. It’s who He is. This is a beautiful story!
I always love your comments, Norm. Thank you. I ran into my old 1st grade teacher on the street yesterday. Mr. Busjaeger. He mentioned that you were a friend used to help out at Concordia…my daughter’s school. It was kind of random, but made me feel deeply connected to the community and how we all can bless one another’s lives. Love to you and Alison
It has been awhile since I have posted anything…I love your post today, Allison, could so relate to what you said. I love it when you swam out to your brother in the water and said,”show me how!” I think life is a continuous series of starts and stops – places where we have to stop and rest and redirect our steps and sometimes even find a new path, if needed. I’m going through such a time right now. Your post reminds me of my love for the ocean and how God has been using the ocean to heal the hurts & brokenness of my past. I love to boogie-board and at times the water is peaceful and welcoming, at other times ferocious and overpowering, very much like my experiences in life. The journey can be so upside down and disorienting, just like an unexpected tumble by the ocean waves or getting snagged by an unsuspecting rip tide flowing quietly by. I used to say, “the best is yet to come!” But I seem to have lost sight of the Beacon on the shore. I am taking time to learn to rest and listen for God’s voice within. The pool has been a wonderful place of refuge for me as well – which has never been the case for me prior to this summer. Being a “beach girl” the pool seemed so boring, no waves, and what do you do after you get wet? lol But God had other plans. Through a friend I have learned to work out in the pool with my foam “noodle,” and to float quietly in the water. I will miss this refuge when the weather cools. But perhaps another adventure awaits, maybe ballroom dancing?
Thank you for sharing all that Janice. I love those foam noodles too. Ballroom dancing sounds wonderful too. I am taking some new risks this year with some activities myself, and its scary but exciting. May you continue to heal through new adventures!
Just saw this, Allison, thank you for sharing. Yes, Jerry is a longtime friend, and 1st grade teacher of both of my boys back in the day. I taught 4th and 5th grade for nearly 30 years at Concordia. I loved it, and still have many of my former students’ own kids as piano students, which really dates me! So glad Justine is attending there… I know many of the teachers still, very caring community.
Thinking of you today, what you are writing gives me such a clear insight into your thoughts and feelings. It’s two years ago, still fresh and raw, but you are learning and changing, at the same time connecting with who you are deep down. Very beautiful and inspirational.
Lots of love
I’ve been thinking about you too. I walked by a shop and saw a tee shirt I want to send you. I’ll try to remember to get it soon. Thanks for your constant acceptance and encouragement, Synnove! And weirdly, after yesterday, the Vernon story doesn’t seem so fresh and raw anymore.
I”m always moved by every chapter of your journey. Glad I got to be a single page of it this summer. Your kids are so amazing and even though I didn”t know Vernon, I know he would be so Proud of all three if you. ❤
I love it! The water is my safe place, even with all of the unpredictable elements. I had my first shark encounter a few years back in La Jolla, and I simply chose to swim with the Mako and not panic. He eventually swam away in to the abyss. And I try to swim daily in the pool when possible. Somehow, it has become another world, where I can process and push through all the obstacles that occur in my real life above water!