Bliss Fevers of Midsummer
Happy summer beautiful friends,
I’ve come down with a particular type of fever the last few weeks, and the only cure for it has been more lake swimming. With the bliss of midsummer in full swing and as my focus centers on Where Will I Swim Tomorrow/This Weekend, the high anxiety internal soundtrack gets muted. The only problem I have is a little swimmer’s itch, a tweaky shoulder, and too little sleep.
Coincidentally, I stumbled across this Anais Nin quote:
“As you swim, you are washed of all the excrescences of so-called civilization, which includes the incapacity to be happy under any circumstances.” - Anais Nin, Diary of, Vol 5.
Last week, the Pacific Northwest broke out in a delightful five-day heat wave (for us that means hitting the 90s). This warmed Lake Washington to almost 80 degrees. Morning after morning, groups of half-human/half-fish lake devotees showed up on the shores of parks, beaches and public docks for watery morning sojourns in the cozy dark of our local favorite body of water. One mile, 2.5 miles, 3.7 miles… We entered a dusky sparkle in our multi-colored swimsuits and bright yellow/orange/pink buoys; mid-swim, the sun would come, and the horizon rose in blood orange.
We stopped for eagle sightings, to admire herons posing on docks, and seized photo opps with unicorns.
We swam from a multitude of beaches; we did out-and-backs, and point-to-points. We swam at 5:30 am and 1 pm. There was one stop at a floating bouncey island where we helped ourselves onto that lonely playfield, jumped and squealed, sunned ourselves, and then like seals, slid back into the water for the ride home. One afternoon, an eagle circled and swooped us a few times, we shivered in some fear adrenaline, but were spared. And swam on.
I went into the lake with anyone who would have me—from championship swimmers and English Channel trainers, to breakstroke dippers, great-grandmas, and toddlers. I took early evening frolics with my mom (89) and my grandkids (4, 6). Everyone was equally as fulfilled, giddy, elevated, and restful.
One afternoon, Steve and I breaststroke from our beach club to five homes over, where Steve knew someone from his college swimming days who he hadn’t seen for ten years. This gentleman, who happened to be a top 200 IM-er of an earlier decade was frolicking with his family, and we socialized in our swimsuits in waist-high water. I felt like I was in the 21st Century version of The Swimmer. But more sane. What bliss, this lake-driven life!
I made new friends, reconnected with ones I hadn’t seen in a while. All the while, the world throbbed away in all its Great Musical Chord Variations, and I went to bed blissful, tired, and free.
In the back of my mind, stirrings of the pesky “how can you be so #*$& happy when [enter catastrophe/tragedy/ suffering here]?” were quieted, seeing their purposelessness. I can help the world with love and compassion, not guilt and apologies. And this fever will break soon enough.
Also, in this blissful, water-logged state I’ve read so many possiblity-filled essays and blogs! I found not hope but opportunity popping in this newsletter by my brilliant, mindful pixie pal, and swimmer, Tia Ho who shared this great NYTimes article Try to Resist the Call of Doomers, a perfect guide for how to *be with* all the stuff going on without turning away from the world.
And also from the NYT, comes an excellent piece about In Defense of Daydreaming, an act I happen to be a huge fan of, quite expert in, yet sadly, it’s been relegated to airplane rides when I could be tending to it more regularly in daily life. My lake swimming is my waking daydream. You have yours.
I’m so high on the Summertime Bliss, that when the Blue Angels buzzed our house for an hour yesterday (so loud, so close, so scary!) I was entranced with this bee working away on our butterfly bush.
The weather did cool, the clouds came in, a few sprinkles, a couple days out of the lake, resting the shoulder. I’m ready to spring back at it tomorrow, when a smaller-scale heat wave is supposed to visit.
To bliss fevers, and even the most micro-moments of b.f.s, for those of you duking it out in life’s harder corners.
PS. When I was struck by the phrase “I have a fever”, I ended up rewatching this classic feel-good.