We enter water and we leave ourselves. Gravity loosens and we...

We enter water and we leave ourselves. Gravity loosens and we swim into a
slow trance, we swim into wisdom. And what is the wisdom? It is of
being un-separate. It is a temporary return to the unbroken planet,
where we exist as both whole and dissolved. In the dark-bright of water,
we’re wet at the throat, at the back of the neck, in the ears, on the
eyelids, and the water on the skin gives a literal cleansing. We emerge,
from waves onto beach, up the shining metal ladder off the side of a
pool, onto the twiggy banks of a river, onto a lakeshore surrounded by
pine forest, first smoke of campfires rising on the banks, and the world
is reset. We return to our selves, separate and distinct once again,
severed from the All, with only the memory of that quick glimpse into
the mystery of what was.

Part Two on a series on the summer solstice for the Paris Review Daily. It’s a lot about swimming.

[Painting: Max Pechstein, Frische Brise, 1921]