Being flung into icy waters

• Content by Ray Brimble, posted on December 16, 2017

I learned to swim at Barton Springs. However, my first memory there was not swimming, but flying. Unexpectedly flung out by my own fathers arms, I still half imagine / half remember that moment of suspended disbelief as I hovered ever so briefly over the icy waters of the springs. This cannot be happening. Wait! What just happened? Did he really throw me in the deep end? Doesn't Dad know I cannot swim? Let's be reasonable.

Sppllllassshhh! 

Hoooooollllyyyy cow! Deep green clarity mixed with panic. 

I was in the middle of a body of water that may as well been the Atlantic Ocean. I was propelled too far from the banks from which I came and, equally, not close to the other side.

So I splashed and struggled and sunk and swam, often in the same breath and within the same motion toward a far distant shore.

I left Austin. Years later I returned, without a plan. I only knew I had to leave Houston. Imitating my father's fling, I flung my own self into icy waters anew. Once again, learning to know something I did not think I knew. 

Why do I love these Springs?  Perhaps because they are an authentic mystery. Cold water in which to plunge my weary body on the hottest summer day. 

Each and every time I question the wisdom of it; the shock of the frigid waters I will encounter; the reminder of one's ability to endure, adjust, and enjoy that magical transformation which can happen if I just keep moving.

Oh, and there is the acceptance. The Springs are no spa. The temperature is a constant 68 degrees, year round. I, and the seasons of my life, are the changes. The sun does not revolve around the earth even though it might have seemed that way for a while in my days. The Springs have a way of flinging me back. This seems rude and uncomfortable at first, but comforting and familiar in the end. 

These lessons are both fleeting and enduring. Every single time I descend those concrete steps toward a new plunge, some part of my psyche surely recalls that first time when my father silently and without explanation introduced me to this unexpected realm. Yet here I am again, on my own volition, drawn into it, no longer needing to be flung. Herein lies the mystery. As a great city grows around us, let us strive to maintain those things and those places that we cannot quite understand. And let us be ready to fling, or be flung, into the mystery. 

Ray Brimble and One Skye Foundation are proud supporters of the Barton Springs Conservancy.