Like Snakes & Corn Do

Posted on by Lanessa Hunter

Lake swimming, Shucking free our deadened selves, Like snakes and corn do, Our bodies tore off swimming suits, And all the old notions…

Laura Veirs, Lake Swimming from Year of Meteors

On a warm afternoon in south Alabama I walked barefoot up the west side of our pasture along the fence shaded by grand live oaks.  The cool spring grass, oak pollen clumps, a mix of leaves yielded to weight of my elementary school aged body. I froze when I came upon the corn snake’s translucent skin dancing in the gentle breeze.  It was draped atop the smooth twisted tight line wires of the barbed wire which protected our beloved old horse, goats, and chickens from marauding packs of wild dogs. It is not that I was scared of snakes. My amygdala must have initiated the freeze. Once it registered that there was no imminent threat, I was captivated by the magic of this remnant, riveted by the notion  that a creature could undergo such a dramatic transformation. I wondered, Did it hurt? I carefully lifted the corn snake’s discarded suit off the barbed wire and added it to my treasure chest of acorns, dried butterflies and cicada exoskeletons. 

This year as the winter snow melted & the spring rains came, I began to feel as though I had grown into new skin.  I have tinkered with this blog entry since January in attempt to figure out what this was all about.  I reflect here; to write is to compost.  This post attempts to assimilate recent additions to my treasure trove of experiences:  a move from the south to northwest, lake swims, the notion of embodiment. I hope you draw inspiration from the Resources at the bottom of this post.  My wishes for you: Self-compassion, delight in self-(RE)discovery.

TRANSITIONS

In 2019, loved ones’ reactions to the news of the move ranged from the supportive & humorous, You know how cold it gets there, right?   to the hurt & serious, You are making a huge mistake.  The latter  felt like a blow to the solar plexus. Reactions, spoken & unspoken expectations (my historical ones for myself & others for me) were on replay in my head for 3 years. I wrestled with guilt despite crystal clarity & the ease with which this move seamlessly materialized.  Grief also played into the emotional mix of excitement & gratitude about the move.  In between selling our place in FL and build completion here, we had the good fortune of being able to have an interim stay at a house my parents built in AL.  We were there when Hurricane Sally hit in September 2020. The overwhelm of the destruction the hurricane brought lead to a return to my grief over Dad’s death. It also mingled with the guilt I felt about leaving the place he and mom had built with their own hands.   I no longer swam at the YMCA pool because of covid and no longer swam outdoors because of hurricane debris. I was afraid to swim with no visibility (of debris) in that brackish water, plus the combination of flooding + household septic tanks in the surrounding area.   I numbed & buffered my uncomfortable feelings via busy-ness with work, home building & planning details, peer-to-peer online workshops on writing, EQ, non-violent communications, and…wine.  

When you swim, you feel your body for what it mostly is – water – and it begins to move with the water around it. No wonder we feel such sympathy for beached whales; we are beached at birth ourselves. To swim is to experience how it was before you were born.

Roger Deakin, Waterlog: A Swimmer’s Journey Through Britain

I resumed swimming upon landing here in May 2021. It started with indoor laps.  And last summer my lake swimming dream came true when Hunter and I joined an adventurous & friendly cohort of open water swimmers. Donned in full wetsuits  & tethered with swim buddies buoys, we swam alligator & snake-free Glacier fed lakes throughout the summer.  Camaraderie and community once again!  Swims support me in feeling my feelings & thus in moving forward in a healthy way.  What I learned from swimming is just how much my body & my psyche had missed it, i.e. How much I need to swim, to have this moving meditation.  That weightlessness and the rhythm, once I relax into it, put me into a flow state. I decompress. I get out of my head and into my body.   -similar to walking or yoga in that I notice how I feel somatically & what the heck I am feel emotionally.

…so to embody your reluctance (whatever emotion) and, therefore, once it’s embodied, to allow it to actually start to change into something else. Things only solidify when they’re kept at a distance. As soon as they’re embodied, they actually start to take on a kind of seasonality. And you’re actually, by embodying it, by feeling it fully, allowing it to start to change into something else

OnBeing Interview with David Whyte:  Seeking Language Large Enough

MOLTING, SHUCKING FREE

I came to realize how much unnecessary weight I was carrying around in the form of guilt about my decision to move. I had been hurting myself, mentally swimming in circles so to speak. While it is true that our decisions affect those we love, it is also true that we can acknowledge the feelings of our fellow humans and still choose to honor our own truth & feelings. The challenge is to stay open. It’s been a year since I moved. Throughout covid & the move, in the rush to get settled, I had not paused to notice the things that everyone had felt with Covid. Only once I began to settle did I realize that for a very long time I was going a 100 miles an hour (as my mom accurately put it), did I start to realize how very tired I was.  I’d buffered the stress & grief that Hurricane Sally brought up. I’d buffered the isolation of covid. I’d numbed the sadness I felt around losing the physical proximity of family and friends. I’d overdone it on the activity front and ignored pain in my foot & sustained a stubborn case of plantar fasciitis which took 7 months of rest to resolve. The weightlessness in water showed me where I was holding tension. The water brought a new set of friends in this community. Swims have been pivotal in gently bringing me back to me & feeling like myself, attuned, balanced and strong.

The great thing about an aimless swim is that everything about it is concentrated in the here and now; none of its essence or intensity can escape into the past or future. The swimmer is content to be borne on his way full of mysteries, doubts and uncertainties. He is a leaf on the stream, free at last from his petty little purposes in life.

Roger Deakin, Waterlog: A Swimmer’s Journey Through Britain

RESOURCES

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