the belief in things

the water is deep. it hides unknown things. there could be a simply hungry shark, or a stealthy submarine watching you as you do your thing - up on the surface. you could be swimming carefree at one moment and end up being someone's lunch or conquest. it could be a conspiracy or just natural entropy.
so - do you think about the other side of the reflective surface?
on the up-side there is definite serenity. stroke-two-three, stroke-two-three, stroke... the water is calm, the only thing making waves is probably my head breaking the surface for air. and probably my ass. i've fixated on a patch of pines on the other side of the bay. i've never been there, at least not swimming. it's the goal, for now - it's an idea. i will get there eventually. it's just one of the ideas for the future. for now i'm satisfied with my stroke. it's the breaststroke, but with a twist - a little butterfly-kick to delay my breath. and it feels good on the back. i'm looking at the pines. i passed along the other shore years ago, by bike. there is a little clearing where the locals play petanque. i've heard that the world champion plays learned to play there, and sometimes does still.
the water is cold today. no wonder - there's two more weeks to go before the tourists come, before they make into the summer soup that it sometimes is. there's no one in the water. not even boats. just seaweed blown in by the storm this morning. the bay has a very small mouth and most of what gets tossed in stays in. but there is always enough space. if you're not worried about what lies beneath the surface.
i feel as strong as a horse. i'm thinking i might even get to the other side. my majka isn't expecting me to be out long, and it would probably be a terrible fright, but who cares. i feel like conquering the world, just by getting to the other side.
it's strange to be swimming in such a big lake. i'm aware that the mountains are around me, even though the only thing i see is the reflective surface of the water before me, the mellow dents in it, and the pines at the foot of the mountain. there's no horizon for miles. i'm deep inland surrounded by 1000-meter peaks. but i am well aware that the ships that pass through this same water that i'm swimming in have sailed the seven seas, seen far-off lands, and that they carry with them secrets of the deep.
no way! i'm not going to make it. or at least i'm not going to risk it. swimming is not my sport and no matter how wise i am about pacing myself i know when i'm entering uncharted territory. and regardless of what people think - i don't take risks. educated adrenalin shots maybe - but not risks :)
i've made it maybe a third of the way. i'm sure that i can make it across but how would i get back? lesson learned. another one added to another volume of the book called life. i look behind. the houses on the shore look a lot bigger than i expected them to. but then what do i know? off to the west clouds are resting atop the first peak above the bay. i've climbed that one (the lesson learned that day was much greater than the one today - and it could have been much more costly). the evening sun managed to pierce two rays through the thick cumulonimbus, and they shine on the water. the gray mist covers the mountainsides and the image reeks of energy. the might powers silently struggling between themselves - air against sun, water against stone. millions of years at war, and me seeing but a puny strife. me sitting there in the middle of a dark bay, my white body gleaming beneath the water's surface on a calm evening in late spring. i can imagine the view from the mountain.
the sun rides parallel to the mountain above the village. it skips off the oaks and olive trees on the protruding parts, and slams into the old village half way up the mountain. there's no one living there any more, no one but an old couple with their donkey, two cows and herd of goats. the occasional tourist passes by their home on the way to the old church, to see the view. the only way up is the medieval cobblestone path winding its way steeply up the hill through groves of chestnuts and oaks, and then olives. the clock strikes seven. it's a new clock, driven by electricity. the old one is now just an exhibit for the curious.
the tranquility of the water. no waves, no sway, just water. and then i see my legs beneath the surface and remember that there is 20 stories worth of water beneath me...
the main place everyone visits in this part of the bay is right across. that's where the petanque champion grew up, but no one knows him. the town is famous for its captains who sailed around the world, brining riches to their awaiting families, and the church that they built out on a rock in front of the town. lady of the rock. she shines now in the evening sun. people travel miles to see it and i feel spoiled. its but a boat ride away, and its been like that for years. now i might even swim to it one day. the church floats in the middle of the bay as though it was built out of styrofoam. its unreal. but it's there.
i take a look around once more. the village up the mountain, the rays piercing the clouds and water, the island glistening in the sun, the old town and its church tower. this is a reality. and right now it's my reality. it's not that i belong here - i don't, at least no more than i belong anywhere else. and i definitely don't belong in the water - i don't have fins. but this is where i am and what i should take advantage of. and it is also something that will be there later. even if i'm not here. it's time to go back. i guess i'll be back here again some day. like so many places i've been over the years.
i stare at the yellow house, in the second row from the water. stroke-two-three, stroke-two-three, stroke... the journey back can never be compared to the one going out. it's the way back, home. i'm there in minutes, or at least that's how it feels. the adventure is over. i was on the water, i was in the water - i didn't get pulled under. i did what was mine and i'm going on to the next thing. the cold air greets my dripping body. the breeze makes me focus on by breathing. muscles pulsate as i walk up the street. the sea stays behind. i hose down instead of showering and wipe myself with a damp towel. it didn't have time to dry since my last adventure. it probably won't be dry in time for the early morning one tomorrow. it will be the good-bye swim. but i'll be back, sooner or later. that's the way life is i guess. you go and you come back, but you always keep fighting the monsters from the deep - in your head if nothing else.