"Swimming cultivates imagination," wrote Australian-born champion and movie star Annette Kellerman in her 1918 volume, How to Swim. When we swim we shed our higher consciousness, the complex, reasoning human organism, and remember, deep inside ourselves, the first oceanic living cell; we almost become our origins. Whether in lake, ocean or pool, there comes that moment when the world of our ordinary preoccupations washes away and we sink into a meditative state in which the instinctual, intuitive, sub-conscious mind can tell us what we need to know.
The question is always the same: Who am I? The answer is in each swimmer’s – and writer’s – imagination.
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In the world of water, we become aware of our skin, of the body's limits and definitions, while we are simultaneously wrapped in an element so familiar, so delightful, so sensual that we feel we have come home. Because life seeks both merger and separation, swimming is a perfect correlative for its mystery.
“Splash: great writing about swimming” introduction by Laurel Blossom
Esta última frase é a minha favorita de sempre, como descrição do que pode ser o ato de nadar (só um escritor para encontrar as palavras certas). E portanto, parece-me ideal para inaugurar o blogue.
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