But the water felt so nice. The fatigue afterward was satisfying. Collapsing on my small blue towel, now turning a shade of brown from all the sand of the summer. Lying there watching the tiny beads of water on my shoulders disappear. I couldn't help but notice that most people around me were alone. Reading books, curling into naps. I tend to notice those who are alone when I myself am alone. A type of solidarity I guess. Maybe there is no connection. Maybe that day I was just being more perceptive. More aware of my surroundings.
This summer has been free of a lot of distractions. I've had time to think, time to read, time to be...time to swim. This has all been good. It was necessary. But it is already August. Traditionally, this would be the countdown. One month until...school starts. But can there be a countdown with nothing to count down to?
I'm kind of tired of this freedom. But maybe I'm also tired of countdowns altogether. Maybe I'm also tired of worrying and waiting, and more keen on just being.
Maybe what I need is to remind myself, this is water.
here are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "What the hell is water?"
It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over: 'This is water.'