The Hazy water

 

On Tuesday, I went for my swimming lesson and something rather interesting happened. I have been making progress with swimming, and this week I was particularly happy with myself. I had gone three times and was feeling quite proud of the progress I was making. But as I approached the deep end, I noticed something.

Normally, when the water is clear, I can see the bottom of the pool getting farther and farther away from me. And strangely, that is when my heart starts pounding.

This time, the water was hazy. I could barely see the bottom.And I didn't care. I went further into the deep end without thinking too much about how far down I was. I already knew how deep the pool was. Nothing about the pool had changed. What had changed was my ability to see exactly where I was. It made me wonder how often knowing the details of something actually feeds our anxiety.

Sometimes, when I know exactly how long something will take, how difficult it will be, how much energy it will require or how far I still have to go, my mind starts calculating. Ten more minutes. This much left. This much effort required. And suddenly, I am no longer just doing the thing. I am measuring the thing.

The funny part is that uncertainty is often presented as something we should fear. But perhaps not knowing everything can sometimes give us room to simply experience what is happening. The hazy water reminded me that I don't always need to see the bottom to keep swimming.

Maybe there are things in life where having a general sense of the destination is enough. I don't need to constantly measure the distance between where I am and where I want to be. Sometimes I just need to keep moving. Interestingly, the pool had not become any shallower. I had simply stopped looking for the bottom.

And perhaps, every now and then, that is exactly what we need to do.