A Kingdom of Green

June 25th, 2024

Wind: from S 1.8 m/sec (4 mph); Air Temperature: 23.5 °C (74 °F): Water Temperature: 20.77 °C (69 °F)

Today at the lake it was sunny, warm, and feeling very summery for 6pm on a Tuesday night. 

I think it was almost 80 F, but there was a breeze coming off the water so I didn’t get that suffocating heat wrap feeling. There was still space in the air, and walking didn’t feel like a major effort. 

The beach was pretty busy for a weeknight. I saw a unicorn floaty or two, as well as some generic donut-style floaties. There were loads of paddle boarders. I could see several kids on the cement dock, huddling together, then in small, daring bursts, taking turns jumping into the water. A 30-something couple was trying to get their life jacket-clad dog to sit on a board so they could launch themselves into the water, but he wasn’t having it. They gave up and the guy kept his dog on the leash (thank you), and lead him away from the water. 

I’m not sure how I feel about paddle boards. Seems like fun, but there’s a lot of traffic on the beach. The park should designate areas for the boards so people aren’t paddling across the swim area, but I know in July or August they will put up ropes and have lifeguards to monitor. I’m trying to let go how much the chaos bugs me. People don’t pay attention at all. So many accidents waiting to happen. 

I wasn’t sure where to swim because there were so many boarders in the water. There was also a couple of motorized boats zipping around, and they are the most dangerous. 

I didn’t want to swim to the speed limit buoy alone, so I decided to swim part of the way. The sunbeam tunnel was amazing today because of the bright sun and clear water. I felt relieved to swim into the tunnel and great my people, “T, R, A, H, E.” Then again. I swam south again, heading toward the boat launch. It was cool looking to my left to watch the sunbeam tunnel from a different angle as I moved through the water. 

In the bright sun the milfoil jungle looked almost majestic rather than menacing. The stalks seemed strong and fluffy, and I noticed tendrils reaching and spiraling away from the stem, as if they were seeking new adventures, better food, maybe a new view. Growth. The green looked so brilliant, inviting. Vivid. Green enough to open my heart chakra, for sure.

I was happy to have a new perspective on the milfoil, and it occurred to me for a second that I could apply this to my life. Think of another perspective. Try shining some light on something to see if it looks less scary. 

Almost as soon as I had that thought I reached deeper water because I had gone past the cement dock. The water got darker, and I couldn’t see the fresh greenness. I could still make out the tops of the stalks, the spiky needles that made me think of gills (?). Then a couple more strokes and I was too far away. 

The water just below the surface had a yellowy hue, but everything beneath it was dark. I don’t ever remember the color. Just dark. I swam a bit farther and ran into large floating clumps of lake weed. It might have been milfoil. I wanted to avoid it because it’s disgusting when I swim right into it and it wraps around my face. I don’t know why that particular spot in the lake has so many piles of floating ick, but it does. 

I turned and headed south toward the boat launch. I was enjoying my breast stroke today, reaching with each stroke and kick to make myself as long as possible. I tried to pay attention to my abs working as I kicked. One of the good things about my modified stroke (I keep my head in the water the entire time, using a snorkel to breathe) is that it puts less pressure on my lower back. 

In the past I used to get a sore back from swimming. I have an abnormally long torso, and I’m not a natural swimming. I’m a runner, and I swim like one: too much legs. In some ways the lake works better for me. The water is unpredictable, so I am always aware of 1) staying afloat, 2) breathing through the snorkel, 3) moving forward. I’m not fast or pretty in the water, but I get it done. 

And lately, I’ve been able to go longer and longer stretches swimming crawl. Today not so much. I had two Telehealth doctor appointments today, and one yesterday, so I was dragging in the water. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I tried to swim. 

Slow and steady was all I could manage. 

While I was still in the deep water I stopped and jogged in place for many a minute or two while I looked across the lake to see Mt. Rainier. Then I shifted my body around so I could see the mountains to the north whose names I don’t know. Because I’m lazy and don’t care. 

I swam farther until I could see the milfoil again. There were hundreds of tiny fish in schools of maybe 20. They’re bigger than they were a week or two ago. Now they seem like they could be two inches long instead of one. But I’m never totally sure about size in the water because objects are always farther away than I think they are. I will glide over a clump of milfoil stalks, dragging one hand down to tap it with my fingertips, but I don’t connect. It’s a strange thing because it doesn’t look or feel distorted. I almost never get it right. 

That realization got me thinking again because in the water I feel more clear, more confident, more like the me I thought I was, think I am. Whoever that is. I still feel so jumbled, tumbled, detached, fuzzy from all the shit that’s happened the past several years, that I’m on truly sure of myself or even have a sense of self in the water. But then I reach out to things and can’t touch them. What the fuck does that mean? 

I decided not to think about it, and instead, I practiced backwards chair. It’s a stroke I invented. I position myself in the water as if I’m sitting on a chair, then I propel myself backwards by scooping my arms out and back, then moving them forward until my arms are parallel. At the same time, I extend my legs to help with the movement. I hope if anyone on the shore sees me it looks like a disembodied head slowly moving through the water. Cause that’s the style I’m going for. It’s a relaxing way to move and still catch the view. Also, I get bored, and it’s fun to do. 

The water was full of particles today. It was much clearer the other day after the rain. I don’t like being able to see stuff. My squirrel brain goes into neurotic mode, worrying about amoeba getting into my brain, parasite clinging to my nostrils hairs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

I swam toward the other side of the lake, which is probably at least 1/2 mile, so I could focus on the sunbeam tunnel. Hi, T, R, A, H, E. Hi, I love you. I miss you. 

Then I started to swim back to the beach. I was moving very slowly, but all of a sudden the water got dark. I could still see the milfoil stalks, but it was like night had fallen on them. They looked silent, calm, peaceful in that way it feels balanced and content on a quiet summer night, the part of summer before crickets take over the soundtrack. 

Again it struck me that I was having an opportunity to experience perspective. Simply swimming a few strokes into the part of the lake shaded by huge trees was giving me new view of my underwater kingdom (today it felt like a kingdom; the milfoil was grand, expansive, almost generous.) I didn’t want to dwell in my head, but I was alert enough to tell myself that I need to remember perspective. Don’t get stuck on one view. Look from a different angle. Turn on a light. Turn off a light. Be still. Appreciate what is. 

I am not used to having the clarity of realizing things as I swim. It usually tumbles out of me in these post-swim brain dumps. I noticed I was incredibly tired. The entire swim had been a challenge, but the fresh, cool water on my face had focused me in a way that allowed me to forget my body and just be in the water. I used to be able to do that when I ran. I could check out completely and just leg my legs turn over. I could go like that for miles. I’d give almost anything, and maybe everything, to be able to do that again. 

As I got closer to the shore I could see all the people on the grass, enjoying the day, the sun, the park, the freedom of nice weather. It’s not guaranteed in Seattle, so you better get outside before the rain returns. There were two hammocks strung up in the trees just south of the buildings that houses the bathrooms and the outdoor showers. There were little kids on the beach. The paddle boarders were lazily floating in the deep water. There was a flotilla of boarders in one spot. Part of me thought it looked like fun to be out on the water like that. Part of me thought it looked boring. Not my thing to judge, but I need movement. I’m literally tired all the time, but if I don’t move my body I hate myself and everyone else. 

The cold water is the best thing for me because it resets my nervous system. Literally. 

When I got into the shallow water I noticed that the brown fuzz on the rocks was gone. Now there were green planty, weedy thingies on some of the rocks. But the rocks in the shallow end were smooth, all of the brown crap rubbed off my so many children frolicking in the water. 

I did backwards chair to get myself into water shallow enough to reach the bottom (I do not like swimming in the shallow water; that’s where all the poop germs are), then I walked up to the showers. 

Free. Hot. Showers. Divine. 

Thank you lake. I love you. Now I am home, absolutely exhausted. Ready for tea, some fruit, and maybe hours of bad movies.