Dark waters

I go down for a sunset swim, as I like to do in the calm waters off San Agustinillo. 

Except tonight the waters aren’t calm. There must have been a storm out at sea. The waves are strangely violent, and I throw myself into them with an old recklessness. Like throwing myself down a halfpipe on a skateboard when I was young, or down a mountain trail on a bike when I was suicidal, it feels thrilling and nihilistic.

The waves rise and crash like I’ve never seen before, and I swim out to the big rock that stands guard over playa elefante. As the sun sets and dark falls on the waters, I revel in the shadows and the way the sea tosses me up and down like a cork.

I love her so much. Slipping under the waves is like sinking into the earth. It’s an experience of being truly grounded, buried in the ebb and flow of the planet itself.

I glance over to the big rock and notice that it is behind me now. I’m about thirty feet out past where I was. Disoriented, I look back over my other shoulder. By the time I turn back to the big rock I’m fifty feet out.

I surge towards shore as panic rips through me. There is no decision — I’m just suddenly swimming as hard as I can. 

After five seconds I come out of the blindness and stop swimming. I can’t swim against the whole ocean. I’m an idiot for trying. And now I am choked with exhaustion.

My heart pounds through my whole body. Salt water gets in my mouth and I’m panting — more from panic than the brief exertion. I feel profoundly wasted and slightly hopeless. Maybe I’m going to die tonight.

Then I curse myself and force my brain to think like the lifeguard I used to be. Just swim parallel to the beach! Just swim out of the fucking current!

So I do that. I swim slow. My body feels like a giant piece of meat I’m dragging through sludge. While I do that I again force myself to think:

The big waves pumped a bunch of water into the little bay. Now all that water is rushing out and it has taken me with it. But I can creep back in around the edge near the rocks on the other side.

It takes a long time. The currents push and pull and the big waves crash around me. I swim sidestroke so I can see the waves behind me before they hit. I swim like an old man.

By the time I get back to shore it’s completely dark. The families and fishermen have gone home. I crawl out of the ocean like a shipwrecked sailor and stand, doubled over on the beach. 

I love the ocean, and I know she loves me. But she deserves respect. She is not my playground. She is a great goddess of life and death and rebirth, and I am not quite ready for the next round. 

So I should start acting like it and be more mindful of her storms.