Every morning in summer I swim in the tidal pool below our home. It’s a piece of paradise, full of magical sea anemones and tiny rock fish, and surrounded by big boulders and the crashing waves of the open sea. On sunny days, the cobalt sky hugs the glorious blue line of the horizon.
BUT (there’s always a but, isn’t there?) the water is cold. It’s fabulously refreshing and exhilarating, but it is cold. The temperature varies between 15° and 20° Celsius (that’s 59° to 68° Fahrenheit) and it’s usually at the lower end.
I am always fascinated by the different methods people use to get into the water. Some dive in headfirst without a moment’s hesitation while others stand there dithering, slowly lowering themselves into the water, inch by inch. Others find a half -submerged rock and push off from there. Small kids run and jump, aiming to make the biggest possible splash. Others get in gingerly but soon dive deep while others keep their heads resolutely and sedately above water.
And for me, that’s how differently we all approach life. The “how” doesn’t matter as long as we take the plunge because getting in and enjoying the magnificence is what counts.