A Very Angry Man

"soon, swimming #meditation at the Y - just being with experience of body moving through water, lap after lap after lap"

My swim started just as I had tweeted. Nothing like a fast swim to ground one in the present, registering the deafening noise of body kicking and slapping the water, being aware of taking in air in between strokes, and being with the subtle pain from back and shoulders stretching, stretching . . . meanwhile keeping track of the number of laps. 

Then, in the midst of  a turn, a sharp pain at the right ankle that brought me to an immediate stop. A big man had grabbed me forcefully, and was shouting at me that I did not know the rules, and that I should have stopped for him as he entered the lane. I recognized him from another similar interaction two years ago, and I reacted with a firm "You are so rude! You cannot do this." The man continued with his angry rant, and aggressive gestures. I remained calm, and was comforted by the rally of support from fellow swimmers and the lifeguard. I was told "This is not his first time. He is a very angry man. He's done the same thing with other people." I moved to the next lane, and resumed swimming. 

The energy of the interaction was still with me. I realized I was not done with my aggressor. Being mindful does not mean turning the other cheek. It means, standing for what is right, and in this case, taking measures so he would no longer spoil the safe sanctuary of the Y pool. Still swimming, I started to plot filing a report. A crowd assembled as  I wrote down my complaint by the side of the pool. The man was watching from behind his goggles. I looked at him 'in the eyes', and in silence wished him to find peace. 

Now, I have to be careful. To not fall into self-righteousness, and the illusion that I am so much better than 'him'. 

Concentration in Action

"Today, we're doing 50x50". In swim coach language, that means fifty continuous 50 meter laps for one hour of practice. I started dreading the monotony, and plotting ways that I could maybe cut out early. Several laps into it, however, I came up with the idea of trading boredom with concentration. What if I started repeating the lap number with each stroke? Five, five, five, five, five, five, five, five . . . . And then six, six, six, six, six, . . . Soon there was only room in my mind for numbers, and the fleeting awareness of each stroke, and of the beginning and end of each lap. Several thoughts managed to squeeze in, and so did a few moments of boredom, but overall, it was pretty much empty mind. While I do not wish to clear my head of thoughts, necessarily, I did appreciate the temporary clearing. I realize this is a practice I can apply to many other repetitive activities.

Swimming Meditation

Annoyed at feeling irritated, still, from an unpleasant exchange earlier in the morning, I motioned towards the pool. And acted as if all was well. Slipped on my fins, put on my cap, and adjusted my new pair of goggles, and dove in. As I warmed up slowly, I had plenty of time to mind the grinding sensation inside my stomach. Along with the dislike, and the wishing away of the anger. Fleeting images of the one at the source. Letting them go by, making up a breathing set to help me focus. I lasted two rounds, that's it, until anger visited again. And stopped for the coach's instructions for the session. Unlike other days, when I forego difficult intervals, this time, I decided to try harder. Concentrating on the times, and the strokes, and staying in sync with the people in my lane. Next time, I checked, I noticed it had been quite a while - ten, fifteen minutes at least - since anger had visited. In between, were no thoughts, other than counting laps, and intervals between each. It is true that anger is not a solid state. Rather a juxtaposition of moments, with varying degrees of stubbornness.

Open Mind, Happy Swim

I have started the new practice of consciously noting my thoughts as I come across strangers. This morning, I got plenty of opportunities during swim practice. Several people showed up in 'my lane'. Old folks, who swam slower than me, and took liberties with the coach's instructions. I was not pleased. Who is this old fart who is entering the pool at the wrong end? He should not be there. I am going to tell him to go in the other pool. And this plain looking woman. She's got an odd looking bathing suit and does not fit in. I could feel my world shrink, as my mind went on with more judging, and disliking, and wishing for my lane minus 'them'. I had a choice. To keep on excluding, and not liking. Or to make room for my swim mates, and my thoughts and feelings towards them, and the reality of our communal swim. I chose the latter, and opened to a whole new experience, discovering once more the happiness from keeping an open mind.