21/06/2017 by Carl Reynolds
Down to Breakwater for the inaugural Brixham Wild Swimming Solstice Swim. I woke at 4.15 from a dream where my compost bins were overflowing with orange bugs and bee hives; a sense that it was too damn early, but a knowledge that a swim at sunrise would be restorative. So along with 12 others we bobbed about and watched the big globular sun rise up and embrace us in its Midsummer glory. Thank you Michelle for organising.
And to home for some breakfast and a message from some other swimmers – “Hi, we’re moored up in Fishcombe and the kettle is on.” To another swim, chat and reflection on mortality, the loss of parents and whether the seal that had popped up once I was on the boat would show any interest in us as we swam back to shore. It didn’t.
Before I left a meditation as the waves lapped up on beginnings and endings. My Dad’s funeral is this Friday and I am sad.