Contemplative Play

Below was my swim yesterday. The cove with an azure sun, today is so banked in with fog that I can see every brilliant color of desert brush, orange and purple dashes of paint on canvas then park my bike and climb down to the pool that is teaching me about how to live with grief and the energy derived from it each time that I dive into the pool, a reflection of obsidian blue. No longer cold as ice but gentle, enveloping, saturating and reliable. This hole in the earth is here everyday, as irresistible to dive into as a thought that is beyond thought of whether I want to – whether pleasant warm or cold – I see her pearly water and sit on her rocks, and look out at the ocean to the sets coming in, and when the waves have calmed (there is always a calm between sets), I dive in. Only now, as opposed to the first dive, I find myself staying longer, exploring in the crags of water pools and abundant life in myriads of microcosms. Is death even real?