Swimming is a way of losing yourself in the vastness of the landscape. On Sunday I swam at Slapton where everything is enormous - the sky is huge, the sea stretches as far as the eye can see and the shingle is an endless line. It's a very abstract place, in three colours, three stripes ahead of blue, dark blue and brown, the sky, the sea and the shingle. The water was clear and I let it move me up and down the shore. Then I floated and looked up at the sky. It's that Hardy-esque feeling of being microscopic in the immensity of the world, and it's a feeling I crave at the moment, perhaps to try and make my loss less. In the last few days I've been in Snowdonia where I climbed a large part of Cadair Idris in a quest to reach a glacial lake called Llyn y Gadair which lies in a bowl under the towering cliffs of the mountain. It was breathtaking, and I felt a sense of relief on getting there and plunging myself into its icy waters.
Swimming is a way of losing yourself in the vastness of the landscape. On Sunday I swam at Slapton where everything is enormous - the sky is huge, the sea stretches as far as the eye can see and the shingle is an endless line. It's a very abstract place, in three colours, three stripes ahead of blue, dark blue and brown, the sky, the sea and the shingle. The water was clear and I let it move me up and down the shore. Then I floated and looked up at the sky. It's that Hardy-esque feeling of being microscopic in the immensity of the world, and it's a feeling I crave at the moment, perhaps to try and make my loss less. In the last few days I've been in Snowdonia where I climbed a large part of Cadair Idris in a quest to reach a glacial lake called Llyn y Gadair which lies in a bowl under the towering cliffs of the mountain. It was breathtaking, and I felt a sense of relief on getting there and plunging myself into its icy waters. 
2 comments:
Hello Sophie!
I came across your blog as I was gathering information on Anstey's cove. Funny enough, your post blew my mind away. Your writing style and the contents of your post are very interesting. But what made me feel more connected to you is that I went through loss myself. Two of my brothers and sisters died at 10 year interval. The first one was 2 and she drowned in our swimming pool. The second was 5 and drowned in the sea. The most recent happened in 2011. As they both died in the water, it is always difficult to go swimming while I adore the sea. Even after all this time.
I know it is not the same circumstances but I think you are very brave to keep swimming despite the fact that you lost your son. You are an inspiration. And if there is a few things that I can tell you from my experience if that time heals everything. You will never forget the pain but years after years it will become less intense.
Keep swimming.
Thank you.
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