Monday evening, I let go of the effort and my body floated

On Monday evening I went straight from work to the pool. It's the beginners' class I signed up for a month ago, and I can barely manage twenty-five meters of freestyle. Today was my first day of backstroke. The instructor said, "Let's start with floating on your back today," and had us all hold on to the wall.

Lying back in the water was scarier than I expected. With my ears under, every sound turned muffled, and the lights on the ceiling seemed to wobble. The moment I let go of the wall, my legs went down first. I panicked, flailed my arms, and only swallowed a mouthful of water. The second time and the third time were the same. It felt unfair that the harder I tried, the more I sank. One person in the next lane had simply spread their arms wide and lain back, and really was floating there.

"You don't have to do anything. Your body will float on its own. Just lift your chin a little and push your belly up." The instructor said it from the edge of the pool. It sounded easy, but my body wouldn't listen. By the end of the class I hadn't floated properly even once.

Not thrashing

There were ten minutes left of free swim, so I sat on a bench with my hair still wet and opened still().

The LORD will fight for you, and you shall be still.

Exodus 14:14 (WEB)

I remembered hearing somewhere that these words were spoken to people standing before the sea. Water in front of them, and something chasing them from behind. "You shall be still" sounded to me like an echo of what the instructor had said earlier, that I didn't have to do anything. Today I had sunk as much as I thrashed, and swallowed water in proportion to how hard I tensed. It occurred to me that straining to win and handing something over are different things. Of course, this is a story about swimming, and life doesn't always work out this way. Tomorrow morning's things will still be right where they are. But I think I understood this much: whenever I believe I have to win it all myself, my body tenses first.

I got back in the water. I held the wall, took a deep breath, lifted my chin, and let go. I could feel my legs wanting to sink, but this time I didn't flail. I kept my mind only on pushing my belly up. For a few seconds, really only a few, my body stayed still on the surface. The sound of water hummed inside my ears, and this time the lights on the ceiling didn't wobble. Soon I got scared and dropped my legs, but the fact that I had floated once stayed with me.

Standing there holding the wall, I laughed. At the edge of the pool I saw the instructor nodding, and I let out a breath and let go of the wall again.

Today's breath — Lying in bed, loosen your chin and arms, and let out a long breath.