Into Myself, Out of Myself

“Rhythm is sound in motion. It is related to the pulse, the heartbeat, the way we breathe. It rises and falls. It takes us into ourselves; it takes us out of ourselves.” –Edward Hirsch

Before the war, I tried to swim three times a week. Some weeks, I met my goal. Other weeks, I took the Mark Twain approach to exercise: “Whenever I feel the need to take some exercise, I lie down until the feeling goes away.” Now, I am a daily fixture of the neighborhood pool.

I used to pipe Motown hits through my waterproof MP3 player to distract myself from the repetitiveness of the lap lane. Now, having misplaced the player, I swim in quiet.

My strokes are more sluggish than they used to be. But now I swim 40, sometimes 50 laps, rather than my pre-war 30. Apparently, I am not alone: there is consensus among the locker room ladies that we are swimming slower but farther than before the war.

For three weeks, our pool was closed. The Home Front Command, the agency responsible for civilian safety, had determined that Hamas missiles could shatter the glass exterior walls and retractable roof of our newly built sports center. Though we Jerusalemites try to calm our nerves with the familiar refrain that Hamas won’t dare fire at us, because doing so might mean accidentally damaging Al-Aqsa Mosque, the possibility remains. Since October 7, sirens have blared several times in Jerusalem, alerting us to head for the bomb shelters.

Then, last week, I received a text message saying the pool was reopening, following renovations to enable the locker rooms to double as bomb shelters. In no-nonsense Israeli style, sheets of turquoise wallboard were thrown up over ceramic tiles, and laminated panels replaced glass shower doors. Hamas missiles, and the deadly, flying shards they produce, would not be allowed to interrupt my morning exercise routine.

And thank goodness for that. There is enough that is hard-edged in our lives these days: the unequivocal mission of our army, the world condemnation, the lacerating line that divides the two sides of this war.

With each stroke, I push all that aside. I skim the water’s surface, defying the gravity that tugs at me the rest of the day. I feel my heartbeat, hear my breath. Amidst the competing pulses that surround me, I find my rhythm.