Drawn to water
“We must believe that we are worthy of our own approval, and then we must give it to ourselves consciously and concretely. . . . .
“A great deal of the difficulty of making art springs from
this conviction that what we are at any given moment is not enough. We want to
be better, more ready to write before we write. We want to be more in the mood,
more inspired, more alive before we try to paint. And yet, over long years of
work, it is clear that some of the best writing comes through when we are not
feeling struck with light. Some of the finest painting gets done when we just
show up at the easel because that is our job. In other words when we practice
self-acceptance of where we are and who we are instead of striving, always, to
be better.
“We are enough, exactly as we are.”
Julia Cameron, The Sound of Paper: Starting from Scratch
The swimmer in me both loves and to some extent resists this. Practice means improving, which means I'm not enough as is. The pressure to exceed limits makes us at times so aware of our "not-enough-ness" that how can we possibly assert in the face of that the fact that we are enough, that our value isn't just in progressing in speed or form or endurance but in finding in ourselves and in the water that which gives life.
I have measured my worth as a swimmer by my inability to keep pace with others, master skills as easily as others do. Other swimmers tell me such-and-such drill or skill is important to acquire if you are to be a good swimmer. Or they might say "that's all right. You should be glad you're able to swim.
Neither is productive. Both ignore the longing for the best that's in us.
Aging makes the process more fraught with pain, yet maybe it's aging that will bring us to the water in a better way, letting ourselves flow with it, in it, letting it be our medium of expression in ways the younger, more adept athletes haven't had time to absorb, always hearing the voices of coaches, teammates, the start signals, the hours of practice enclosed in chlorine.
I look at these swimmers with envy, wonder what it would have been like to be brought along, honored with praise and critiques that sculpt the swimmer, turning her into a coach's work of art --and her own, if she knows it. (Too many swimmers have struggled with depression, anxiety, and eating disorders, not knowing their boundaries.)
I worry though as much as any college kid if the coach at a practice ignores me--offering neither challenges that s/he believes I can meet or compliments when I meet them. What if I'm truly alone out there and no one cares how I perform but instead sees me as irrelevant.
In the last couple of days, I've become aware of how much I miss open water, the river currents, the wind rippling the water into waves, the herons, the raptors high overhead whom I gaze at during a backstroke. I do love testing myself in a pool, but notice I'm not doing that for me these days but for someone's approval--and I'm hungry, so hungry--for that approval, yet also need to find my own voice, my own presence, my own (as my USMS forum username would have it) "inner fish." That fish is there, the fish that doesn't care what benchmarks others say she should reach. She's a fish and the water is her nutrient, the water, other fish, plant life, life itself.
Today, feeling discouraged and ignored, I took a much-needed walk to water--the stream near where I live. It's a humble body of water, yet the setting sun draws out its sparkle, its iridescence, its power to transform.
My imagination can travel miles, finding where salt mixes in and turns me to ocean.
posted by DPMcManus @ 3:16 PM
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