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In Fall 2021 we were able to crawl out of our covid isolation a bit. The children went back to school, and I finally had some breathing space again. But in that space, I discovered I was not interested in just picking up where I had left off back in 2020. I was deeply depressed and was struggling with the grief of letting go of past plans.
This time of uncertainty happened to align with
the beginning of the Jewish sabbatical year, or Shmita Year (observed every
seven years). Shmita literally translates to "release", I set my intentions for the year to rest, release and recharge. I gave myself permission to release my ambition, put it aside for a
year and learn to get comfortable with not planning what happens next. I gave
myself space to grieve what I had lost. And most importantly space and time to refill
my cup, to unapologetically spend my free time doing things that made me happy. In this space I began cold plunging and open water swimming in the Puget Sound. I held myself to only one personal task for the year— to get in the water as many days as possible.
Enjoy some of my musical mantras
for my Shmita year
I played both these albums, Loosen by Aly Halpert and Karov by Batya Levine, on repeat during this time of release and renewal.
The Salish Sea is cold year-round, and while swimming is inherently meditative—with your head in the water, you’re cut off from the sights, sounds and obligations of everyday life—swimming in cold water takes this to another level, deeply stimulating your body in new ways. I began my journey in September when the water is at its warmest, around 60°. I acclimated to the cold and rode the temperature swing down through the dark of winter and into the coldest 40° waters of February. On the upswing the water practically felt balmy as the temps climbed again toward the mid-50s by May.
Water at these temperatures is a total reset for the mind and body. All anxieties, worries, grief are wiped from your mind as your body must feel the intense cold and move through it. You’re flooded with endorphins, and after a few dips the cold water becomes addictive.
The open water swimming community is welcoming and enthusiastic. Some days I swam with friends; on others I went by myself, but never—not once during an entire winter of swimming—was I the only swimmer in the water. This nourished the sense of community that was so worn away by the pandemic.
This watercolor series, What the Sea Gave Me (My Shmita Year), has a simple focus on color, shape, and emotional mood that reflect my year of plunging into the cold watery depths of the Salish Sea and returning to a place of centered calm within myself and a belonging— to both the natural world and Seattle community.
I was lucky enough to buy a beautiful original from Rachel. The colors and movement of the painting give it a life of its own. Every time I look at it, it brightens my day. The wall it's on feels transformed, showing off her beautiful way with color.
By Melinda I.
