 | I’ve been teaching myself to swim. When I was about ten years my cousins and I went swimming in the local baths. It was a packed and pretty noisy place, with lots of swirling of water and close contact with strangers. My older cousin gave me a piggy back ride, took me into the ‘deep end’ and promptly dropped me in it. I panicked and went under, gasping for breath and swallowing water. |
I never went into the deep end for a long time after that. Swimming was part of our school curriculum. In those days, we had variable experiences. One was a fairly ‘safe’ indoor pool but the teacher was hell-bent on us picking up something from the bottom of the pool and bringing it up. I had a great aversion to my face being in the water, so I never succeeded in that task. In senior school, there was an outdoor pool in the town of Cleethorpes, a pretty windy, weathered place on the coast. I was always cold, and we had to go swimming in all weathers. One day there was actually ice on the water. Cruelty to children or what?
All these things shaped my feelings about swimming, not to mention the dreams I had about drowning and not being able to breathe. Nevertheless, I lived on the coast and loved the water, and gradually over the years I taught myself to get along in the water, even to visit the deep end if it wasn’t too crowded. But I never managed to put my face in the water and would always end up with aches in my neck or shoulders after a good swim.
I went for a swimming lesson a few years ago and the awakened and enlightened teacher brought our attention to how our movements were received by the water, and we were given goggles so we could fully immerse ourselves in the water and the experience.
When the teacher noticed my reluctance to fully put my head in the water, she asked me a question, “What is it that you do not want to see?”
This question stayed with me and will stay with me for the rest of my life. All kinds of ‘buts’ came up: ‘you don’t know what I’ve been through, suffered, the injustice of being dumped in the deep end, I didn’t deserve that, I deserve this’ etc.
I hadn’t been swimming for years so I joined a posh health spa in one of our local hotels this year, as a special treat for myself and my self-care. Now, in this pool, rather on the small side, but always warm, I felt safe enough to buy some goggles and teach myself to put my face in the water, so I could learn to do a proper front crawl stroke. I also bought a swim hat, to hopefully stop the chlorine turning my hair yellow.
Often, I have the pool to myself, so I can gasp and splutter without loss of face (pun intended)! I was overjoyed when I could see where I was going underwater with my goggles on. My first attempts at doing this were interesting. It took quite a few times to feel comfortable putting my head in the water and, at first, I went in as far as my nose, so I could still snorkel with it and breathe. After a while I could put my whole face in when I held my breath, coming up for air with my nose snorkelling the air into my lungs. When I got the rhythm wrong and breathed water up my nose the spluttering began and my heart would be racing, my arms grasping for the wall for support, however far away it was. Fortunately, the depth of the pool is the same all the way along so I can put my feet on the floor to avert disaster! When this happened, it felt like I was ‘swimming against the tide’. I went home feeling exhausted, beaten.
However, I was pleased with my progress on being able to put my face in the water and after asking a few people for advice on technique, I came across information that front crawl and managing the breathing wasn’t an easy thing to do. I turned to Google for help and up came some (free) help – in a booklet on front crawl technique and later a sheet on breathing. The booklet explained some simple information and different methods of tackling the technique. After a bit more practice I was ready to bring in the arms but found I was spluttering more than usual, and it was not fun. I went back to my old ways for a while in order to enjoy my swim again. It felt like hard work to make the change.
I love to try new recipes for foods at home, and I often have to substitute different ingredients as I have a gluten intolerance. But I always follow the method because the people who present the recipes have tested them to make sure they work. There is that word again, method. I know that the method works because of my training in catering. Just like if you buy some packaged or frozen items, always follow the manufacturer’s instructions for preparation, because they know what chemical reactions are involved, so to optimise the product, follow, follow, follow. If you do, a bunch of ingredients magically change into the desired product. Alchemy!
This morning I started to read ‘The Science of Multidimensional Psychology, Volume 1, A Preparatory Understanding’ by Serge Benhayon. There was the word again ‘method’. Writing about ‘the very old days’, Serge tells us that mythology, parable, and allegory of legend were respected as different ways of teaching ‘and people knew how to listen to them because they were educated as to how to contemplate what was being conveyed. In other words: the listener knew the method, so they knew how to comprehend and draw advance from the imparting.’ Then the penny dropped. A realisation that, just as I know the premise and the logic behind the method in a recipe and am obedient and respectful as to what has gone into the making of it, people used to have a similar responsibility towards teaching and learning. They understood how to use it as part of something they needed for their evolution. There was a process, a responsibility on the listener’s part and an end product – evolution. All involved, the teacher and the student, would be doing alchemy, simply and naturally.
This led me back to my swimming. Why was it so difficult? I re-read the different methods of learning to breathe, this time following the exercises before I got into the water. In the water, I paid attention to my breathing and how it flows. It should be calm and rhythmic, easy, simple. Notice how and if this changes.
I realised I needed to be totally connected to my body at all times to follow the advice.
The next day when I approached the water I placed my feet on the rungs of the ladder so, so gently, keeping fully connected to my body as it felt the change in temperature as the water rose and covered me. I noticed that usually I came out of my body and shuddered at the relative coldness of the water, but this day I kept connected and felt the warmth of my body rather than the coldness of the water. The shock was much less upon my submerging body and I swam along fully in the moment, leaving the coldness behind me. Focusing on keeping my breathing calm and steady, the swim became a meditation, a thing of wonder and ease. I realised that when I brought my arms into play, usually my breathing changed, forcing me to be apprehensive and expecting the worst. Now I kept my breathing calm and if I wasn’t ready for arms, I would take my time and not fuss over it. It was my responsibility to keep connected and calm, respect what my body needed, be in harmony with the water, learning as I go.
I reflected on my previous ‘battle’ to be at one with the water. I hadn’t noticed my breathing changing with the effort of trying to be an ace front crawler, while leaving my poor body to fend for itself, struggling to breathe, and feeling exhausted after a few strokes of unbalanced crawl.
This could be an allegory for life as it is today. I have noticed as I walk around our busy city, that most people are pre-occupied either with a screen or with drinking coffee or alcohol and I know many people are exhausted as they go about their daily lives. I know this through conversations I have and in the course of my work. People want such distractions in order to feel ‘better’.
The question is, “What do they not want to see, or to feel?” With the rates of disease and multi-symptomatic illness going through the roof, as an advanced society, have we lost our sense of purpose? Are we ‘swimming against the tide’, hence the constant exhaustion and the need for relief? Perhaps life doesn’t need to be so hard. There is a natural flow to life. Perhaps all we need is a moment of reflection.
Reconnecting to our bodies and listening to its needs could be a responsible way of coming back to understanding our purpose: true evolution.
Now I’m not saying I have fully mastered the art of front crawl, but the fear of water has subsided into a healthy respect for my body’s needs and the flow of the water. I enjoy my swimming and the feeling of being comfortable in it.
I enjoy the feeling of swimming fully submerged, able to see where I am going. My next challenge is to be able to follow the black line and stay in my chosen lane instead of using the whole pool. I know the reason I am not swimming straight is because my body is still rolling as I move my head to breathe, so I’m working on that. I continue to learn from my body’s response to the water.
When we hear a teaching, that is telling us how to live optimally to improve our health and physiology, we can develop our own rhythm or method that helps us embody what we know to be true. In ancient times we knew how to respond to teachings that were true.
These ancient teachings are still true today, and we need to be, and are responsible for, developing an intimate relationship with our bodies so that we can clearly hear the truth.
Christina H., UK
If you enjoyed this article, you may also like to read:
The Body is the Marker of all Truth
All these things shaped my feelings about swimming, not to mention the dreams I had about drowning and not being able to breathe. Nevertheless, I lived on the coast and loved the water, and gradually over the years I taught myself to get along in the water, even to visit the deep end if it wasn’t too crowded. But I never managed to put my face in the water and would always end up with aches in my neck or shoulders after a good swim.
I went for a swimming lesson a few years ago and the awakened and enlightened teacher brought our attention to how our movements were received by the water, and we were given goggles so we could fully immerse ourselves in the water and the experience.
When the teacher noticed my reluctance to fully put my head in the water, she asked me a question, “What is it that you do not want to see?”
This question stayed with me and will stay with me for the rest of my life. All kinds of ‘buts’ came up: ‘you don’t know what I’ve been through, suffered, the injustice of being dumped in the deep end, I didn’t deserve that, I deserve this’ etc.
I hadn’t been swimming for years so I joined a posh health spa in one of our local hotels this year, as a special treat for myself and my self-care. Now, in this pool, rather on the small side, but always warm, I felt safe enough to buy some goggles and teach myself to put my face in the water, so I could learn to do a proper front crawl stroke. I also bought a swim hat, to hopefully stop the chlorine turning my hair yellow.
Often, I have the pool to myself, so I can gasp and splutter without loss of face (pun intended)! I was overjoyed when I could see where I was going underwater with my goggles on. My first attempts at doing this were interesting. It took quite a few times to feel comfortable putting my head in the water and, at first, I went in as far as my nose, so I could still snorkel with it and breathe. After a while I could put my whole face in when I held my breath, coming up for air with my nose snorkelling the air into my lungs. When I got the rhythm wrong and breathed water up my nose the spluttering began and my heart would be racing, my arms grasping for the wall for support, however far away it was. Fortunately, the depth of the pool is the same all the way along so I can put my feet on the floor to avert disaster! When this happened, it felt like I was ‘swimming against the tide’. I went home feeling exhausted, beaten.
However, I was pleased with my progress on being able to put my face in the water and after asking a few people for advice on technique, I came across information that front crawl and managing the breathing wasn’t an easy thing to do. I turned to Google for help and up came some (free) help – in a booklet on front crawl technique and later a sheet on breathing. The booklet explained some simple information and different methods of tackling the technique. After a bit more practice I was ready to bring in the arms but found I was spluttering more than usual, and it was not fun. I went back to my old ways for a while in order to enjoy my swim again. It felt like hard work to make the change.
I love to try new recipes for foods at home, and I often have to substitute different ingredients as I have a gluten intolerance. But I always follow the method because the people who present the recipes have tested them to make sure they work. There is that word again, method. I know that the method works because of my training in catering. Just like if you buy some packaged or frozen items, always follow the manufacturer’s instructions for preparation, because they know what chemical reactions are involved, so to optimise the product, follow, follow, follow. If you do, a bunch of ingredients magically change into the desired product. Alchemy!
This morning I started to read ‘The Science of Multidimensional Psychology, Volume 1, A Preparatory Understanding’ by Serge Benhayon. There was the word again ‘method’. Writing about ‘the very old days’, Serge tells us that mythology, parable, and allegory of legend were respected as different ways of teaching ‘and people knew how to listen to them because they were educated as to how to contemplate what was being conveyed. In other words: the listener knew the method, so they knew how to comprehend and draw advance from the imparting.’ Then the penny dropped. A realisation that, just as I know the premise and the logic behind the method in a recipe and am obedient and respectful as to what has gone into the making of it, people used to have a similar responsibility towards teaching and learning. They understood how to use it as part of something they needed for their evolution. There was a process, a responsibility on the listener’s part and an end product – evolution. All involved, the teacher and the student, would be doing alchemy, simply and naturally.
This led me back to my swimming. Why was it so difficult? I re-read the different methods of learning to breathe, this time following the exercises before I got into the water. In the water, I paid attention to my breathing and how it flows. It should be calm and rhythmic, easy, simple. Notice how and if this changes.
I realised I needed to be totally connected to my body at all times to follow the advice.
The next day when I approached the water I placed my feet on the rungs of the ladder so, so gently, keeping fully connected to my body as it felt the change in temperature as the water rose and covered me. I noticed that usually I came out of my body and shuddered at the relative coldness of the water, but this day I kept connected and felt the warmth of my body rather than the coldness of the water. The shock was much less upon my submerging body and I swam along fully in the moment, leaving the coldness behind me. Focusing on keeping my breathing calm and steady, the swim became a meditation, a thing of wonder and ease. I realised that when I brought my arms into play, usually my breathing changed, forcing me to be apprehensive and expecting the worst. Now I kept my breathing calm and if I wasn’t ready for arms, I would take my time and not fuss over it. It was my responsibility to keep connected and calm, respect what my body needed, be in harmony with the water, learning as I go.
I reflected on my previous ‘battle’ to be at one with the water. I hadn’t noticed my breathing changing with the effort of trying to be an ace front crawler, while leaving my poor body to fend for itself, struggling to breathe, and feeling exhausted after a few strokes of unbalanced crawl.
This could be an allegory for life as it is today. I have noticed as I walk around our busy city, that most people are pre-occupied either with a screen or with drinking coffee or alcohol and I know many people are exhausted as they go about their daily lives. I know this through conversations I have and in the course of my work. People want such distractions in order to feel ‘better’.
The question is, “What do they not want to see, or to feel?” With the rates of disease and multi-symptomatic illness going through the roof, as an advanced society, have we lost our sense of purpose? Are we ‘swimming against the tide’, hence the constant exhaustion and the need for relief? Perhaps life doesn’t need to be so hard. There is a natural flow to life. Perhaps all we need is a moment of reflection.
Reconnecting to our bodies and listening to its needs could be a responsible way of coming back to understanding our purpose: true evolution.
Now I’m not saying I have fully mastered the art of front crawl, but the fear of water has subsided into a healthy respect for my body’s needs and the flow of the water. I enjoy my swimming and the feeling of being comfortable in it.
I enjoy the feeling of swimming fully submerged, able to see where I am going. My next challenge is to be able to follow the black line and stay in my chosen lane instead of using the whole pool. I know the reason I am not swimming straight is because my body is still rolling as I move my head to breathe, so I’m working on that. I continue to learn from my body’s response to the water.
When we hear a teaching, that is telling us how to live optimally to improve our health and physiology, we can develop our own rhythm or method that helps us embody what we know to be true. In ancient times we knew how to respond to teachings that were true.
These ancient teachings are still true today, and we need to be, and are responsible for, developing an intimate relationship with our bodies so that we can clearly hear the truth.
Christina H., UK
If you enjoyed this article, you may also like to read:
The Body is the Marker of all Truth