If it weren't for the cold, constant springs here, I'm not sure I would've made it 18 months, much less 18 years.
So I started today with a swim.
I don't know why I don't do that more often -- it makes me feel so awake and relieved.
So different from a run -- hot and pounding, or even yoga, indoors.
While I swam I thought about Neruda -- water often makes me think of Neruda -- and of this poem especially:
To whoever is not listening to the sea
this Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up
in house or office, factory or woman
or street or mine or harsh prison cell;
to him I come...
(Read the rest here, or watch and listen here...)