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The Art of Not Drowning
If I didn’t stay present, I would drown.
At least that’s how it felt at age forty-nine as I crawled my way across a four-foot-deep Olympic pool. Determined to learn to swim before my fiftieth birthday, I’d signed up for lessons at a local health club. The friendly, eager instructor encouraged me to use fins, goggles, a swim cap — whatever it took to achieve my goal.
But she had to start the first lesson by convincing me to get in the pool. I don’t like being cold, and I’m terrified of water. When I had to put my face in, my mind registered the shock of cold as deadly. Before I took a single stroke, she taught me how to turn my head to breathe while I was standing, holding onto the edge of the pool.
Eventually, with much practice, the kick, stroke, and breathing combined to form an activity much less elegant than what the people gliding past in other lanes were doing. But I propelled myself through the water just the same.
Meditation teaches us to be with thoughts and body sensations regardless of their quality. Years of practice kept me from screaming or drowning or simply getting out of the pool. Each stroke provided an opportunity to feel the water against my skin. Each breath was a chance to notice how inhaling feels from an unfamiliar position. And each kick offered the lesson of how relaxing was…
