Do I spend too much time inside myself? I wondered earlier today. Is that necessarily a bad thing?
I had that thought at the beginning of my swim, for which I already felt out of kilter postponing it by several hours to [willingly] accommodate a sick child. I could tell I had a lot pent up that I needed to release into the water. I ticked off the first few laps, letting the thoughts fill me, then settle somewhere else. One of those was the initial question I posed.
Somehow that led to wanting to swim hard and see if my skin could permeate the water or vice versa and I could feel as if I were the water, not just cutting through it. It was odd, crazy, calm and totally sane all knotted together. My body raced almost as fast as I had let my mind early on. I kept thinking about what a friend had shared awhile back about going to the place between the thought clouds as opposed to the conventional wisdom to let your thoughts float away like clouds.
So, while I hammered away, sluicing the waves I was creating, I revved up to go between the clouds. Liminal space, I thought. I almost got carried away, which is what I wanted. Yet a slim thread kept me connected to the lane in the pool inside the gym. I do close my eyes some to swim, but open them when I raise my head for air every fourth stroke. It ensures I am swimming straight and keeping in my lane. I think if I could have swum with my eyes closed the whole time, I may have made it. But, I came pretty darn close.
It triggered something; perhaps, just endorphins, but I am still experiencing the aftershock. It is as if the unnecessary and negative tension in my body leeched into the water, replaced with a peaceful and constant energy – a healing source. Like I had to wear out the unhealthy stuff inside by some sort of physical trickery. Odd and crazy, huh? Yet, I feel totally sane and calm, blissful.
So I was totally inside myself, yet also outside. Perhaps not exactly one with the water, but somewhere between my body and the water.
Next time I want to cut or break that thread. What happens then?
• How often do I travel inside myself?
• Is it my usual inclination or something I force myself to do?
• What happens when I do?
• Can I find a transcendent space, somewhere that belongs inside, yet outside?
• Do I counter that in time spent with others?
not to get