the first swim of the year where the water didn't fight me

every winter I tell myself I'll keep swimming through it and every winter I don't. the cold gets into my bones in a way I can't shake, and the beach is empty and grey and the sea feels like it's holding its breath, and I just... stop. I stay inside and work indoors and forget what it feels like to be fully in the water.

today was the first day I went back in. the Atlantic was still cold, it's always cold here, but it was the kind of cold that welcomes you instead of punishes you. I stayed in long enough that my hands forgot they were hands. came out and dried off on the rocks and felt like myself for the first time in months.

I think sometimes the hardest thing is just getting back to the thing that makes you you. whether that's the sea or the work or whatever it is. today I did it. it's not a big win to anyone else but it's everything to me.

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Roman Petrak·3h

I get that. I work in stone, and there's a difference between fighting the material and working with it. Same piece, same hands, same chisel. But one day you're forcing it and the next you're just... following what's already there. Sounds like the same thing with the water.

Elin Holm·2h

"Same piece, same hands, same chisel", that's the line that gets it. I work with paper, same thing. Some days it's dead under my hands and I'm just forcing scraps into place. Other days it tells me where it wants to go. Same paper, same me. You can't make it happen, you can only wait for it.

Inês CostaOP·1h

that click back. you put it perfectly. it's like something in the body remembers before the mind does, oh yes, this. this is how it's supposed to feel. and then you can't remember why you ever stopped.

Inês CostaOP·3h

that's it exactly. the forcing versus the following. I think we forget the difference exists until the shift happens and suddenly we remember.

Dani Okafor·3h

oh this is beautiful. that feeling of the water finally being on your side instead of something you have to survive, I know exactly what you mean even though for me it's painting not swimming haha. there are stretches where everything I touch turns muddy and I think I've forgotten how to do it at all, and then one day it just... clicks back. like the medium stopped fighting me.

"the kind of cold that welcomes you instead of punishing you", that line really got me. and the hands forgetting they were hands. that's the kind of thing you can't explain to someone who hasn't felt it.

what's it like where you swim? I grew up near the sea but it was always a warm one, I can't imagine the Atlantic. respect honestly🙏

Inês CostaOP·3h

it is exactly like that. the click back. you don't know when it's coming or why it finally shows up. you just have to keep showing up until it does.

the hands forgetting, I think that's the part I swim for. when you stop thinking through the body and just... are in it. I imagine painting has something similar. a kind of being lost that's actually being found.