I’ve recently rediscovered my love for wild swimming. I love the feeling of the ground giving way beneath my feet. I love exploring the underneath of the surface… a glimpse into just how much we can’t see upfront. In the water, I feel like how I’ve felt for most of my life: unanchored, yet afloat. Yes. I think I will get that tattooed 😀
But I’v
For an avid overthinker, swimming has helped me (literally) strip down to the basics. There’s no puzzle to piece together, no mystery to solve. In the water, I feel exhilarated, liberated.. but more than anything else, I find relief. A lightness, a letting down of guard, a letting go of things, an abandoning of all “extras”.
I’ve always loved jumping into waterfalls and have done so across various places in India… from the Western Ghats to Meghalaya. But this year has been the Year of Swimming in the UK. I’ve swum in the sea (Cornwall), in a tarn (Lake District) and in the river (Cambridgeshire). On a trip to Oslo, I managed to get into the icy waters of a Norwegian sun, where I swam for a good half an hour in the summer sun. Later I snuck in a solo swim in Sognsvann lake, surrounded by pine trees. I’ve now got a nice swimsuit mark on my body that I’m wearing with battle scar-like pride. Swimming has helped me develop a stronger relationship my (otherwise clumsy) body and has helped me deepen my trust in myself. Woooooo ok bye running off to become a fish.
When the summit is not the goal 🙂
A comic inspired by a recent hike up Middle Fell in the Lake District, England. The route takes you via Greendale Tarn and is supposed to be a “moderate” walk according to the National Trust, but with a bad foot and improper shoes I found the steep uphill climb really difficult. After a lot of being pulled up by K, I found a spot by Greendale Gill where I decided to settle down and wait while he climbed up to the tarn. I could see the Wastwater Screes plunge into the water before me, and far away in the distance I could see the sea! I could even make out the windmills.
I drank the water from the gill and listened to its musical gurgling. I opened a bag of chips and ate it happily. I was perfectly content, and my initial dismay at not having made it to the top faded away. Maybe there was beauty in being halfway up, too.
I’m always amazed by how a familiar (or unfamiliar) song can make me feel right at home. I seem to constantly find myself in music: an upbeat song playing in an auto-rickshaw in India, jazz melodies in a fancy restaurant in London, the quiet strumming of a lone busker, the cacophony of a pub at night. Sometimes I stop in the middle of a street to listen to music I can hear being played in the market or in a cafe, and I feel so full, it’s almost like fishing myself out of a sea of unknowns and giving myself an identity.
Dedicated to Cambridge, my adopted home, and a place I’ve fallen madly in love with. From riverside walks and punting to leafy parks, from secret lanes and corners to buildings full of history, Cambridge is full of incredible.
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