The Pieces of Me

Some days I feel frantic, others lucky, to try to push myself to do more, be more, than I originally thought I could be.

I am acutely aware of time ticking.

Of days passing me by.

Of seasons changing from summer to fall
to winter once again.

I want to grasp life -- to embrace it and make more of it -- but some days I just don't really know how.

I try not to say no out of fear.

I want to take in the small moments, make them indelible, hold them captive, tiny photographs in my brain,

while grabbing the huge moments with gusto, a big, shiny, sturdy brass ring.

I swim. http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fthewater-blog.blogspot.com%2F2011%2F10%2Ftempest-meets-ides-of-october.html&h=-AQDcvu4yAQB3zGV9avoRAGA4CZIcn91UiLRmSfQNBZT-Hw

I write. http://gaepolisner.com



Now, I even teach. http://www.lenaroy.com/2011/10/why-i-heart-gae-and-ya.html

I lawyer. I parent. I wife. I love.

Sometimes none of it feels like enough.

Sometimes, all of it feels like too much.

I am so many pieces. I am exhilarted. I am lacking. I am fulfilled. I am numb.

I let the waves embrace me.
I hold on for dear life.

I let go as much as I can.

I am acutely aware of time ticking
and the days passing me by.

- gae

Grasping

Girls of October
( photo: Carol Moore)

I'm feeling it this morning: the cold, harsh reality that summer cannot --

will not --

hold on.

I see my breath in the air.
(Cannot, will not, hold on).

I know this. And yet I keep trying.

Why do I try, when I know there's no holding on?

I need acceptance. I just need to breathe and transition to the chlorine.
And, yet.
The open water has become more and more my Prozac. I don't want to transition. It feels like such a damned metaphor.

It's Monday. It's October. It's cold.

And, I can see my damned breath in the air.

And all I want is to swim.

I want the bright hues of summer. I want to run my toes in the sand, to feel the sun on my face, to stroke under blue skies, through the waves, through the bliss, through the promise.

But this morning, there's no promise. Only cold, gray skies. And no mistaking my vaporous breath in the air.

- gae

Late-Season Firsts, Kamikaze Flies, and Joye of Joys!

Joye, headed to the water

In honor of Carol who was not here this a.m., I make this post on behalf of the Water-blog:

Karen, Bonnie, and some hunky guys

Under gray skies that began to part upon our

arrival, a small group of hardy Poddites (Gae, Karen, Bonnie, Ken, and Rob Ripp) were thrilled to arrive at the beach to find a long-absent
Joye Brown - missing since mid-July due to a severe ankle fracture that required multiple pins, rods and PT --
pulling into theWest Neck Beach parking lot .

After hugs and greetings, we set out in crystal clear water amidst fish jumping, some of us for a short swim to the South Buoy, others continuing on to the North.

Despite an abundance of what could only be described as Kamikaze flies that littered the surface of the water, the Pod enjoyed an otherwise-pristine swim to the South Buoy under breathtaking skies.

As Karen and Rob set off toward the North buoy, Ken started a graceful backstroke back toward the beach. Bonnie and I decided to follow suit for as long as we were able, and, despite thinking we'd only last for a few hundred yards or so, we, too, backstroked the entire way back to the lifeguard station. So, new firsts, even this late in the season.

All in all, another glorious swim, though the Carol(e)s, etc. were sorely missed!

- gae

I'm Swinging!

Er.

I meant literally.*

You got excited for details, didn't you?

But let me tell you, this kind of swinging is the next best thing. If any of you could come put a swing like this up in my backyard, I would be your BFF forever. Yes, I know the forever is redundant.

If you want to read more about me and my swinging, you can switch to my YA blog entry here: http://ghpolisner.blogspot.com/2011/09/things-in-motion.html. Or you can just watch me swing and listen to me "scream like a girl," a bit more.

Kisses.

- gae

*with thanks to Carol Moore, our Fairy POD Mother for the swing and the video! If you want to know what a POD is, you can click here: http://thewater-blog.blogspot.com/2011/09/falling-out-of-summer.html OR here:  https://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/West-Neck-Pod/128827940504281 .

Unfathomable

The view toward south buoy just a mere few days ago...

My older son headed off to his junior year of high school this morning.

You heard me.

Unfathomable.

Seriously. Vastly. Unfathomable.

I know, I use that word a lot. But, I mean it. There are things in this world I just can't wrap my brain around. And one of them is how quickly my life with my children is passing.


I want to slow it down, but there are things you can't hold onto.

Well, really, there is nothing you can hold on to.

According to Mirriam-Webster, a fathom is a unit of measure used especially to determine the depth of water. Maybe that's what I'm doing there -- in the water -- all the time. I'm trying to grasp hold of a concept I won't ever be able to hold onto.

It was "just the other day" we came home with him. A little bundle of brilliance in a blue and pink striped cap. He was uncharted territory. He was trouble. He was bliss. He's been heartache. He's been a lesson in strength and patience, and bottomless, chest-busting love. But, honestly, it's all just a blur.

This is him. My bigger blur.

And now he's off to his junior year of high school. I already know it's going to fly. I'm already trying to slow it down by sheer will and the rhythm of my own fleeting breath.

There will be SAT's and driving permits. Maybe there will even be girls. Certainly, there will be more heartache and more love. And all of it will be unfathomable.

So, I'm off in my bathingsuit and towel, where else, but to swim.

Fall means less open water and more chlorine, less wide expanse and more treading.

But there I'll go anyway, in my endless effort to wade in and grasp

what I never can.

Sam.

- gae

Fucking Peter Gabriel

er, that's not how it sounded, but I wish.
okay, no I don't. Jon Hamm, maybe. Or these days, Adam Levine. But anyway.

I blame Peter Gabriel for my angst this morning. Like a Pavlovian trigger, In Your Eyes, took less than two minutes to take a sunny day and turn it angsty. Or maybe I've been hovering there all week. It's the whole end of summer/time flying thing. There are days I can't take it. There are meds for that, I know. Maybe I could use some.

Trust me on this: It's hard to get older. To see the days flashing by. To watch your face and body change no matter what you try to do to hold it suspended in your youth. Life is hard. Then you die. Someone famous once said.

And, I'm not fishing for compliments. I know I look pretty good for 47. Still, it aint no 25. Thanks anyway, though.

I sound gloomy, I know. Apologies. It's that fucking Peter Gabriel song that gets me every time.

I've had two unrequited "loves" in my lifetime. It's amazing how those stick with you no matter how many years pass. In both cases, the boys (men, whatever they were) pursued me, then dropped me without warning, and without a willingness to remain friendly or ever basically speak to me again. When I think of either of those people, it still hurts -- or worse, brings me back to this intense place of longing. Is there anything more angsty than longing?

A few years ago I read (in the New York Times) about a study that demonstrated that, when we remember something painful, it triggers a chemical or a spot (forgive me on the technical details) in our brains that actually momentarily behaves as if we are reliving the pain at that moment. Ah, then there's a science behind it. This makes me feel less crazy.

At any rate, Peter Gabriel just brings me back there. And so he did this morning. Luckily, there's water in my back yard and a bathing suit right over there.

- gae

Obsessed!

Me, underwater.

This is me. In the water. Like you know I like it.

Over the past three years, I've become a fairly obsessive swimmer. I've done some things I'm pretty proud of, like became an open water swimmer at age 45, swam a 5K (against current), and made a second 3.2 mile swim with a friend. Like plunged into waters not much more than 53 degrees, swam with jellyfish and bunkerfish and other such unmentionables that got stuck down my bathingsuit and stung up my back. I'm not the bravest girl in the world (check out my first few open water swim posts, here if you want to see how far I've come:  http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/05/do-something-new.html,  http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/06/conquer-and-fail-but-more-conquer-than.html, http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/06/to-fresh-water-or-salt-water.html,    http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/06/lure-of-body-parts-and-kissing-baby.html), but I've pushed myself in ways I never thought I could. I was never much of an athlete, now I sort of am.

Me, center, coming out of the water
with the girls.

My goal this summer is still to swim 5 miles. It may be this summer, it may be next, depending on who I can get to go with me (and finding a boat-safe route).

I've been relatively proud of myself. I mean, after all, these are pretty cool things. 

But, man oh man, how we push ourselves is all relative. A few weeks ago, a fellow POD member sent us an email about Diana Nyad. If you don't know who she is, you should. I've become pretty obsessed with her, if you must know. Especially if you're over the age of 40, you should spend a minute checking her out, because I'm telling you right now, she can change how you view middle age.

At 61, Diana is poised to swim 103 miles from Cuba to Florida through shark and poisonous jellyfish infested waters. Without a wetsuit, without a shark cage and without rest. At least, she's poised to try. That's 60+ hours in the ocean. Not the little harbor off the cozy Long Island Sound where I swim, people! That's a whole different roiling ball of water.

I swim for an hour or two,
then have a nice little shower.

By the end of the swim, her tongue will be swollen, her skin will be salted and stung raw, and she will be suffering pretty badly from hypothermia. And, of course, that doesn't factor the sharks. . .

To "warm up" for the swim (which is about to start any day -- she's waiting for water temperatures to settle at 86 degrees) she did a 24-hr ocean swim. She's set records before. All her life. She doesn't need to do this again. But she wants to keep pushing herself to try.

For her sake, I hope she makes it all the way; for my sake, it doesn't matter at all. Finish or not, she's already inspired me. With every stroke I take, with every mostly-innocuous jellyfish that slips through my fingers as I swim.

Cheering you on, Diana! Thank you.

- gae