I’m the sort of person who will go on a walk and confronted by any body of water, river, lake, puddle, will succinctly strip off and jump in.
admittedly I remain clothed for the puddle type adventures, but you get the idea. I’m a water enthusiast, a thalassophile in a non monogamous relationship with the sea, a practical manatee. As a child I was a competitive swimmer, but found no comfort in the loud and crowded swimming pool. I knew however that I could swim well, and had no fear throwing myself into the ocean. Growing up near Brighton, I could indulge in my water addiction no end, but it wasn’t until I moved to Cornwall that sea swimming became like a therapy for me.
In cornwall, cold water swimming is a religion. I would walk down to my local beach every morning and there they would be, the hardened locals. A gaggle of women, their greying hair just bobbing above the crystal clear water, a summer baked Cornishman, marching down the sand and hurtling into the sea, a hopeful grom, hair plastered against his face, surfboard in hand, standing in the shallows. When I dip bellow the translucent surface, piercing the skin between two worlds, I feel held, alive, and completely free. I am one of them.
There are articles written by publications such as The Guardian, ‘Could cold water swimming help treat depression?’ and Vice, ‘The Remarkable Benefits of Cold Water Swimming’, which serve to try and understand why immersing ourselves in this cold liquid stuff can be so beneficial. From baptisms to baths, people have been trying to heal themselves with water throughout human history, but what is it about open expanses of water in nature that feels so invigorating?
I can’t speak for everyone, but for me it is akin to looking up at a starry sky, it’s that feeling of infinity that makes one feel both insignificant and yet free at the same time. I’ve been known to float, belly up, eyes open and just laugh. That complete weightlessness is what cures me. And when I dip under, fingers grabbing at the milky blue, I forget everything but the pillars of light and the urge to keep swimming forward until my lungs bid me to return to air.
