For weather, this passing January was maybe the best on record. Now the weather maps are starting to show different trends for February. A colder night last night than usual, with our old friend Jack Frost returning for an evening visit. In the afternoon yesterday the wind had turned on us with a sharper bite to it than did the day before. I would have gone for a walk somewhere near the ocean, just bundled up a little better than the day before, but my feet were aching, and when they do that I give them a break.

My neuropathy can be so unpredictable. Some days I hardly notice it, while other days my feet are too numb to easily walk. Ibuprofen usually takes away the soreness, but yesterday both feet were more sore than usual. Rather than walk and agitate them further, I went swimming.

I belong to a club with an outdoor swimming pool. Swimming, to me, is a sudden plunge into a different world. I see only the bottom of the pool and a long black tile line that I must follow to keep myself swimming straight. That's the only rule I follow. As I turn my head for air, while swimming freestyle, I see people passing by me in other lanes, and if I twist my neck I can look up and see the sky overhead out of one eye. Looking down, I see a world of sky blue-green water that is loaded with bubbles and bouncing light. Without goggles the view would be too blurry to recognize much of anything. I find that this limited but colorful universe below the surface of the water can quickly induce a sort of meditative state for me.

I struggle at first with looking down in the water and not seeing much, but then I become more conscious of my arms and legs moving through the liquid. My body is weightless. My numbness from the neuropathy becomes insignificant. I can't talk, listen to people, or read a book while I swim. I am forced to talk and listen only to myself. The swim becomes an internal game, the part of me that is always awake and responding to my outside environment, versus the part of me deeper within that is quiet and reflective. Now the two have to find peace and harmony with each other. After I swim a lap or two, I find that my inner and outer world will merge quite nicely. I might have a peaceful dialog with myself, or think about some book I've recently read. Yesterday a simple design for an abstract painting came to me from out of nowhere as I swam.

When I got out of the pool, the shower and locker room was stuffed with talk of the Superbowl that is being played on the east coast on Sunday. What a contrast, to be sitting out in the giant stadium, shouting and cheering for a team far away on the field, while I am finding my energy in moving and stretching my muscles as I glide smoothly through quiet and empty water. I don't dislike sports and games, but money seems to have replaced athleticism. I feel like the things I discover about myself when I swim are the things that attending a football game would take away from me. I understand that the American Atheists will have an anti-prayer commercial this year at the Superbowl. Maybe next year contemplative swimmers will have their say.