Swimming five days a week invites energy into my body, my world and my life. It’s meditative. It’s restorative. And, it’s healing my injured (from Levaquin, please note) left leg. Starting the day in the pool is the best way I know to prepare for a full day of productive, creative work.
Though I swim in a number of YMCA pools during the colder seasons, I benefit from living near the magnificent Great Lakes and all that pulsing, glowing energy.
Aware — and grateful.
There is permanence in the universe.
All the good stuff.
Love. Kindness. Compassion.
That energy lives on, I’m convinced.
At least, it’s wonderful to think so.
She lost her dad just one week and one day ago. She’s 32. He was just four days older than I am. Already she’s closing the door on her old life — “I am so grateful to have had such a wonderful man as my father” — and welcoming the new — “He would want our business to succeed. And, besides, his energy is right here with me, at all times. Kate, I’m OK, really. His energy continues.”
She’s crying. She’s grieving. And, she’s in touch with way more than those 32 years of life with her father.
This day — this one tapping me on the shoulder with its bright winks and persistence — this day has my respect. Its fierce light will grab a piece of that universal sky and live on — like all good energy in this world and the next.
Though I do believe that when we die, we are immediately within God-consciousness, death is so shocking. We are vital, alive, breathing — and then we are not. Our energy lives on, though. That, I believe.