"Ice swimming" in the sea during these festive Christmas days and finding a mermaid connection.

From the moment I put on my swimming suit, neoprene gloves, hat and boots, I begin to leave my human life for that of a sea-dweller, or even a mermaid.  As I walk towards the beach wrapped in my gigantic robe, I am focused on only one thing, the sea.  I change from living my human life, ensconced mostly in a warm brick house to being part of the natural world.  The sea murmurs quietly today, low winds but with some lingering grey cloud.   It feels colder without the sun rays, and for a moment I wonder why am I here?

The water is breathtakingly cold now, only five degrees, which is classed as "ice swimming" (5 ℃ and below) although there is definitely no ice in sight.  Two seagulls watch me with little interest, as they perch on the posts of the groynes and allow me to swim close by.  They accept me as a sea creature for these moments and part of their ocean.  I wonder where this endorphin "high" is or even a sense of  "this is nice" that regular cold water swimmers describe.  My fingers and toes hurt even with protective neoprene.  The skin on my legs and arms tingle and it is unbelievably chilly.  It takes all of my effort to swim and breathe so I only last for a few minutes, and escape to the beach when it feels like enough.

As I dry off and begin to thaw out on the beach, wrapped in layers of fleece, I remain in my mermaid bubble.  I no longer feel detached from the natural world, but part of it.  The steady stream of humans, wrapped up in coats with take-away coffees seem alien to me, just as I must appear to them.  "Was that fun?" I get asked, as if you could sum up the freezing cold yet totally alive experience in a single word?  "Do you go in slowly?" I also hear and try to explain that when the air temperature is only 3 degrees and the water not much more, there is no real shock because everything at this point is cold, cold, cold.

Mermaids resonate deeply with me for some reason.  I wrote a story for three years about a mermaid called Molly and her wise mother, who literally appeared on paper as I journalled one day.  I was already living by the sea at this point, and wondered if the spirit of the sea had entered my psyche without me realising.  Molly the mermaid spent much time swimming, connecting with nature, living in a cave-like dwelling and loving life.  She had a deep connection to the fish, dolphins, the ocean and her cosy cave.  My writing became a sanctuary, giving some respite from ill family members, buried grief and workplace stress.  When I was hit by a number of bereavements, I couldn't find this connection again and the words dried up.

Now as I warm up from my earlier swim, I can feel both my body become physically warmer and my heart being flooded with warmth and love.  In spite of all the challenges of the pandemic, I am finding my mermaid connection once again.  No wonder I need to find a healing sanctuary, even for a few minutes of each day, to deal with the intensity of living through this pandemic year.  And even though staying at home for weeks on end gets tiresome, I remembered that Molly the mermaid spent many happy hours in her cave-like home looking out to sea, which is not so different from our actual house.

As Christmas Eve arrived, combined with the chaos of new restrictions, borders closing, thousands of lorries stuck and suddenly being in "Tier 4" with a new coronavirus variant, I felt totally overwhelmed and exhausted by the enormity of it.  As I lay awake in the night, thinking of how to feed the lorry drivers or how this new variant is going to impact on life here, I realised Christmas was the last thing on my mind.  Even though I only watch or read about the pandemic in a limited way, when another change happens I can start to get hooked on reading updates.  Was it okay to even celebrate Christmas when there were stranded, hungry lorry drivers nearby plus thousands of people ill with coronavirus and cases rising rapidly?  Can our hearts be wide enough to be compassionate towards those suffering right now and still find space to relax and celebrate this time?

Thankfully I listened to my struggling body and decided to keep things simple, just as Molly the mermaid did in my stories.  I had three wishes for Christmas, a sea swim, delicious food and to switch off all news and the internet.  The restrictions of the pandemic are constantly forcing us to reduce our plans, simplify or just cocoon and maybe it makes sense to semi-hibernate while it is cold and dark.  All I know to be true is that I feel much better for having had five days without any coronavirus news and a few dips in the sea.  And for someone who always has a tendency to be busy, having permission to be more mermaid-like for a while is the best tonic I could give myself.  Molly, the wise mermaid, knew when it was time to put down any to-do lists, time to connect more with nature, to eat healthily and rest.