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I Don’t Believe in God But I Know Where to Find Him
Searching for spirituality among the waves
Today, I swam.
There’s something magical about the ocean, and I feel such pity for people who say they hate it and swimming in it. It’s not good, or right, to feel actual pity for people, to look at them and think Awwww, poor thing, but I do.
Today, I swam. Out past that point where the waves break on the shore. Out past even that point where the waves suck you toward them before they build to their crests. I was out in it, and it’s different out there when you are closer to the buoys than you are to the beach.
Out there, you really are alone. If you start to drown, or you’re attacked by a shark, a lifeguard might be able to reach you in time, but they might not. That’s your choice, to go out there. For some people that’s normal. For some, it’s brave, for other’s it’s reckless. For me, it’s the closest I ever, ever come to God. And I don’t believe in God, so that’s saying a lot.
Here’s how you do it:
Swim out as far as you can, and then swim out a little bit further. Float on your back, facing away from the beach. Try to tune out what’s left of the sound. It’s easy. By this time, you can’t hear much of it anymore anyway.
