Frog-Swimming 

I have written a few times about how it feels like things are moving at glacial speed in my life. That the universe is testing my ability to be patient. To trust. And also, I think, to simply experience joy in the meantime.

It seems I am frog-swimming through life.

That is what I realized yesterday as I dipped into the swimming pool and effortlessly started moving with frog kicks. I was doing the breast-stroke I suppose, but slower. And did I mention effortlessly! I did this nearly the entire half-hour until the last five minutes of my workout when I suddenly decided I wanted to be on my back. So I flipped over and began doing the backstroke.

As I flipped from facing down to being outstretched on my back, gazing into clouds, it reminded me of yoga. Where you have poses that curl you up, surrendering…and then standing with shoulders back….heart open to receive.

Surrender. Receive. Repeat. 

slws-1440x900

Image copyright of Lori Portka.

Earlier this summer I started swimming regularly. I remember telling my therapist about this new routine, and I was a little embarrassed. I explained to her how rough I have it– you know, having to walk past a total of four houses to get to a large community pool. And to arrive only to discover that I have the pool all to myself. I know–I told her–I am a bit spoiled.

Her response: Isn’t it wonderful to be spoiled?  

Her words took me aback. Actually it IS nice to be spoiled. How often can I claim to have felt spoiled by anything? Especially in these last few challenging years.

I’ve held tight to her words as I have floated on my back in the cool water watching clouds move above me. As I’ve seen my leg kicks move from weak and disjointed to strong and in sync. As I have danced giddily under water like a mermaid. 

Frog-swimming through life right now. Surrendering and receiving.

Surrender. Receive. Repeat. 

 


Are you frog-swimming too? Share your experiences!

 

Advertisements

In praise of the ordinary

photo-1455884981818-54cb785db6fc

Image source.

The three-year-old who wants a ganilla (granola) bar, and as she eats it, occasionally walks over to silently spit the almonds into my hand.

The now-cold coffee, abandoned after chasing around the three-year-old who is spraying water into the air with glee.

The mail, the coupons, the unread newspaper. The unwashed clothes. The dogs whose nails need to be trimmed. The sweet crowing of a bird out back.

These moments that are so ordinary. You can almost miss them. Sometimes I am bored in them, sometimes I want to hurry them.

Today, I am choosing to sit with my cold coffee and smile.

Follow along with Mourning Dove on Facebook or Twitter.