When I search for solitude and solace, when I’ve exhausted my patience with impossible demands, when I paw through the medicine cabinet of life in search of a salve for frayed nerves and a broken heart, I usually head outside. Sometimes, I wind around country roads with my window down, camera riding shotgun. Sometimes, I go to the farm and blow the cobwebs out of my four-wheeler. Sometimes, I grab the Hawaiian Tropic and head for my pool. My favorite escape, though, is Spring Lake with my paddleboard.
Forget those cathartic options. We are just trying to survive right now — survive this hateful-but-apropos winter, survive this winter of our lives. Just survive. Hang on until spring arrives. Winter, whether literal or metaphorical, is really messing with my usual therapeutic escapes.
I haven’t spent much time with my camera in recent months, but I hope to find my way back. Photography is a solitary activity that allows me to connect with nature and express myself in a hopefully-creative manner. I’m just not feeling it right now. I know — loss of interest in things that previously brought me joy is a red flag. I’ll get there again, but not today. I certainly won’t be riding around with my window down until the temperature is about 60 degrees higher. Stupid winter.
Apparently, some people enjoy riding their four-wheelers when it’s cold and snowy. Nope. Not me. I can see how riding in snow could be fun, but it’s SO COLD! So that escape is out. Same with the backyard pool or the paddle board and lake. It’ll be several months before my favorite outdoor escapes are realistic options. I’m eagerly counting down the weeks but the weeks are many. Again, stupid winter.
Today left me searching for some kind of escape, an emotional salve for the wounds of the day, but here we are, stuck in an overzealous winter. I knew I had to do something or risk an implosion or meltdown. Possibly both. After last night’s aqua yoga class, getting back in the pool seemed like a good plan, so I booked a lane for 30 minutes. Then I added another 30 minutes and started counting down the time until I could leave home and head to the pool.
The pool was divine.
For that entire hour, I had the pool to myself. I know it won’t always work out like that, but sometimes it will. I’d like to say I swam lap after lap after lap, but let’s be real. I can get there, but not in one night. I spent a good deal of time doing a fair impression of an old woman with the water dumbbells, but I did lots of arm work, and even core and leg work. I thought as I counted, and as I worked my way through the reps, my mind cleared. The tension eased. The constant, nagging pain of sadness relinquished a bit of my soul.
When I finished the “work” part of my hour, I stretched out on top of the water and just let it hold me. The constant effort of keeping myself afloat was temporarily not my problem. For those floating minutes, my muscles relaxed and my frame stretched out. My mind quieted. The water knew its task and was up for the challenge. For those floating minutes, my burden was not so weighty. I was not so weighty.
I know I’m supposed to surrender my burdens to God, and in the past, carrying far lighter burdens, surrender was successful. Surrender these days is an ongoing process. I keep trying, but I know I’m failing. Not because I don’t believe, and not because I’m not trying, but because this burden clings to me and I to it. This burden is a part of me, and complete surrender is elusive.
So tonight, when I needed to lose the stress of my day and work through pervasive sadness, the pool was the perfect escape. I found the solitude and solace I needed. For a while, the weight of my life was replaced by relaxed buoyancy. The burden, my burden, floated beside me–not gone, but not trying to drown me.
Woods Writes 