injured vertabrae is my reality, what do i miss? you ask in february, easy to answer, cross-country skiing, white snow, pine trees, vast mountains, i’m nothing & everything, expanse of time & space, gliding on undulating slopes, effort sweat spreads, limbs working hard, heartbeat, blood knows i’m at peace, no cellphone reception, only the next climb, one ski in front of the other, smooth swish, bits of ice crystal on boots, now just memories.
no more 8am waking up, dean martin really can’t stay, chestnuts stop roasting, the hallmark channel starts to countdown from 364, the radio quits playing it’s the most wonderful time of the year, dead christmas trees adorn city concrete, jimmy stewart disappears back into nostalgia, family says goodbye, credit card bills get paid, calories are cut, gym memberships rise, green & red sweaters go back into cedar chests, thank you cards are written, hot chocolate loses its luster, mistletoe romance becomes memory, new year’s resolutions begin, to do lists resurface, everyone gets a little older & 2023 says goodbye.
swimming centers me, fallen japanese maple leaves sink in water, nestle between my toes, stick to shoulders, i am a leaf magnet, like the man feeding pigeons in central park, the tree likes me, i think, gifts from above, cold water thoughts, staring at stars, nameless constellations, pump arms and legs harder, keep the heart moving blood to numb fingers, i have a rock on pool’s ledge for coyotes, but i would never throw anything, maybe splash or yell, coyotes won’t visit, worries disappear, this is a good night.
thought about buying a wetsuit, but after research and experimentation i’ve come to learn that i can swim/tread water all winter in northern california without a wetsuit, my max so far is 20 minutes, i’m going to do at least that much into november, december, and beyond, after a full day of teaching, then helping my kids with homework, and cleaning dinner dishes, there is something cathartic about gazing at a full moon in the night sky, listening to an owl hooting, while gentle water undulates all around me, numbing my injured back, big breath in, big breath out, i feel my heart, alive, all of me.
i was an athlete, six feet, maybe 190, kinda husky, remembered water polo in high school, we played in five feet of water, i liked pushing guys around, throwing the ball into the net, polk, you should come out and play with us, the colby captain said to me one night, yeah, i thought, i can play division III water polo, the first practice was two days later, i borrowed a speedo and headed down to the pool, ok fellas, we will start with 20 laps, at this moment i should have walked away, i had never swam more than a couple laps in my life, but i was too embarrassed, so i got in, labored through 7 exhausting laps, then quietly exited the water, went to the locker room, put on my clothes, and pretended the whole thing never happened.
i’m experienced in walking meditation. one step slowly in front of another, ball of foot, then toes, and finally the heel, like a dog carefully touching december’s first snow. the point of walking meditation is to go nowhere, except within, and this can happen while breathing each breath, one inhale, one exhale. in the pool where i paddle pushing water with palms and legs and arms, maple leaves glide near me on the surface where i pretend to walk in deep water, treading instead. i sometimes pray, that my back heals, that i can be kinder, that i will live without fear. with glances i watch the trees, today it was a pileated woodpecker, the birds know more than i, about when to move quickly and when to just sit and wait. my quick days are over, the waiting days are here, breathe in, breathe out.
They look in the large mirror,
at biceps or red faces huffing,
breathing during squats or lunges,
shouldered weights pressing
gravity, reps into struggling flesh,
trick a body into staying young,
aging less, iron lifting medicine
like swallowing Omega-3 pills
to keep it all going. They worry
about who might be watching
contours, smooth, hard, flabby,
sagging skin or calves that pop.
They stay indoors listening to loud
music staring at reflections wanting
to halt time, be bigger, be stronger.
As if it were so simple, forgetting
that real strength is invisible, it dwells
immeasurable, unphotographable.
But for them it is easier to put it on
Instagram, pretend, pretend, pretend.
Daniel W. Polk 