Skip to main content

Sempre a água

Como nadadora, tenho uma relação com a água que é quase romântica. Da beira da piscina, contemplo a vibração das ondinhas que se formam com o movimento dos outros corpos, ocupados em suas idas e vindas. Pequenas ondas cintilam na superfície, em inúmeros tons de azul e prata, ao toque do sol. 

Mergulho e ouço seus sons que reagem à minha chegada, imperceptíveis zunidos aos ouvidos de seres não aquáticos. Admiro sua explosão em pequenas bolhas quando meu braço a penetra em uma braçada de crawl. Pequenas bolhas que se aninham em volta do corpo, fazendo cócegas, envolvendo, acariciando. Observo os distorcidos reflexos, agora dourados, nos azuis azulejos que ondulam e mantém ritmada companhia. 

Sinto a textura da água, a flexibilidade, a força e o poder de seu volume. Adapta-se aos meus movimentos, recua e retorna, próxima, sempre próxima, uma segunda pele. Aceita meu corpo em seu meio. A água me recebe como um todo. A um só tempo é serena, imensa, poderosa.  

Ouço sua voz dizendo: "Calma! Respira! Prossegue!". Posso chegar à ela, desolada, sem força, sem ar, aos pedaços.  Ela  sempre me recebe, me conforta, me acarinha, me acolhe. Dela retorno inteira. 

Comments

  1. Ela é confidente. Ouve nossos segredos sem que se faça necessário falar. Como resposta aos nossos pensamentos, silencia. E é, então, quando a gente alcança a paz. Alcança o momento mais íntimo e sublime. É quando o tempo para e a vida só diz respeito à água e a nós. Feliz dia da natação =)

    Nati

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Feliz dia da Natação! Obrigada por ser parceira na água e na vida! :-)

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When a murderer lives inside your head

Schopenhauer says to live is to climb a mountain and when you see what is waiting for you on the other side of the mountain too early in life, you can never climb it the same way. I saw what was on the other side and decided I was simply not climbing that mountain anymore, unless pushed the way up. You wouldn’t realize that just by looking at me then. You wouldn’t see that I had quit. I would wake up, take showers, eat (actually there would be a lot of eating), go to work, do whatever obligation I was supposed to. I would even go out with friends or family. But if you looked really closer, you would realize I was only automatically responding to demands, except for the food. Food became my only source of pleasure. How was all the rest performed? At work, if there were tasks and deadlines, I’d do them, using no more than the basic skills required.   As to my social life, it rested on the plans of others. They would say when and where to go. They would pick me up and bring me ho...

I upset people (This may be the first of a series)

I feel I upset many people. Maybe it is something I do, but the feeling I get is that what upsets them is the way I live, the choices I make. People get upset with me when they hear I don't believe in God. If I tell them that I once did, but have lost my faith after I lost my first child, a premature baby, they fail to grasp the complexity of it. They look at me with irritating condescendent pityful eyes and they think I can be "fixed." To be fair, maybe I fail to help them understand that after what happened to me, God as I came to know it and most people of Christian beliefs do, is of no use to me.  God proved himself either nonexistent or useless to me when my first born died and when I almost followed him due to Eclampsia and Hellp Syndrome (Go ahead and google it! Unless you are doctor or had someone in the family who had this, you will never know it.) He did not save my baby and he did not spare me the excruciating suffering I had to endure. And if you think I...

Chinese man

  She got up and went to get a cup of coffee. “Damned headache!” Acute and deep, precise, the day ruined. -        -   As if a long, fine, pointy needle forced itself through my cranium, you know? A Chinese man with long mustache holding one point of the needle, manipulating it, pushing it very slowly. -        -   Why Chinese? Seriously, she could not believe it! A headache from Hell, dripping sweat after the coffee and that was the question? -        -   Why not? Is there a law against the Chinese? -       I was just asking! -        -   It’s my pain, isn’t it? If it’s Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, what is the difference? -        -   Forget it!    She regretted the rude reply, but did not apologize! Apologizing would require time, explanations, facing the Chinese man, pulling him by the mustache, immobilizin...