All For The Love of Flow
It is common for people to say that swimming is a healthy exercise. However, it is fair to question if they truly understand what they speak of. I swim everyday. I routinely fluctuate between the freestyle and the breast stroke. As soon as the cool, chlorine water strikes the surface of my flesh, I instantaneously connect to sensations that I have no words to appropriately characterize or adequately describe.
I began swimming at a time not of my choosing. I can’t remember. I do vaguely remember my grandfather throwing me into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, not far from my grandparents’ home in Freeport, Texas. From age 8 until age 13, I attended Camp Longhorn every summer for three weeks. It is an aquatic-themed summer camp. Most of the activities that we participated in as children were in the man-made lake that our cabins bordered. From jumping on the wet blobs and gliding down the zip-line of the “Eyeful Tower”, to shooting down the long water slides and canoeing alongside the springs of the green-colored lake, Indian Springs was an aquatic mosiac. A kind of man-made water park.
At times I have been convinced that the lack of maintenance with respect to the man-made lake, with its grimy and nasty appearance, contributed to me contracting Kawasaki’s Disease at camp in the summer of 2003. With all of the positive recollections that I have of those warm summers in the early 2000s, they must be viewed in unison with all of the nightmarish trauma of that summer in 2003. A summer during which, for me, that lake at Indian Springs turned into a red bloodbath of horrors.
I played as a member of my high school’s water polo team during my freshman year of high school. However, after this short stint, I didn’t swim at any serious capacity for several years. In fact, over a decade had passed before I resumed swimming regularly. I had moved to Atlanta, Georgia to earn my MA in History at Clark Atlanta University. Jun, my foreign roommate from Japan, was studying English at Georgia Tech. One day, he took me along with him to Georgia Tech’s Aquatics Center. It was a day made in heaven. The unforgettable moment, that I dropped my numb body into the lap pool, was timeless. It was as if I had been resurrected like Lazarus, all in an instant. It was as if, after sleep walking like a zombie throughout my late teens and young adulthood, I had finally been awoken from the dead. I swam, in a state of unparalleled bliss, for a few hours. I had been set straight.
Since that day in 2019, I have swam probably a vast majority of the time. It is a vital, undeniable part of my identity. Even perhaps the most important characteristic of my genetic makeup. I flow forward, at remarkable speeds. From freestyle to breast stroke. Consistent fluctuation from one technique to the other. I become an aquatic masterpiece. The flow is a realm within which I can gather my thoughts. Affirmations flow through my mind, spirit, and body with ease. My youthful flesh is enhanced. My creative spirit glides and soars. My magical imagination has been unleashed and is limitless. My North Star is firm and resolute. I am unapologetically on full autopilot. I trust the supernatural forces that guide me. My culture is contagious. My confidence is infinite. Anything in close proximity to me benefits, even if those things lack awareness of my value. I know who I am. I am the King of Flow. All for the love of flow.
