This week I took a day for myself at my favourite spot – The Retreat at Elcot Park in Berkshire. I know I mention it often, but it really is my haven from the busyness of life. I’d booked the afternoon off for a swim, some time in the spa and a much-needed massage.
The pool is outdoors, which is part of why I love it. But the sky was heavy and grey and the rain looked set to stay. I’d been craving a bright winter morning and couldn’t help thinking how typical it was that I’d come the day after blue skies and sunshine.
After a leisurely breakfast, I decided to brave the pool anyway. The minute I dipped my toes in and lowered myself into the water I felt everything lift. The word that I keep coming back to is glorious. It felt utterly glorious.
I swam for about 30 minutes and had the pool to myself. The rain fell gently on my face and I realised I could just breathe. My body felt weightless – the magic of water – and I could move freely, without effort.
It struck me how often we form expectations about how things will be. I’d been longing for sunshine and quietly cursing the rain… until that moment. In the calm of the pool, all the chatter about the weather fell away. My mind felt expansive. Ideas started to come. I felt present enough to really take in my surroundings, to breathe them in.
Then I noticed a large tree beside the pool. Its bare winter branches spread and divided like giant lungs – reaching and returning, like breath made visible. I floated there for a moment, watching it, and felt a wash of gratitude for its quiet magnificence. For the way it stood there, steady and generous, breathing out what the rest of us need.
In the warm water, with the rain falling softly around me, my own breathing slowed. My body felt lighter than it has in months, unburdened by gravity and by the usual tightness I carry. I could move in any direction without effort. Stretch. Turn. Simply be held.
It felt like a small lesson in letting things be as they are.
And it was beautiful.
