In the past two years, I have jumped into freezing cold water in six states, three countries and on two continents. (The number of states would be higher if I had managed to find any water colder than boiling in Wisconsin, Ohio or Pennsylvania this summer.) Sometimes I was not in the mood to jump in freezing cold water. Sometimes I thought it was an absolutely terrible idea. But always I did it. And, you know what? I haven’t regretted it yet.

The discussion usually goes something like this:

Macky says, “Hey a lake/river/ocean! Let’s go swimming!” You have to give him credit for wanting to submerge himself in pretty much every body of water we have ever seen, excepting perhaps that green colored swamp of farm runoff we encountered somewhere in Utah. Even Macky had second thoughts there. (Of course, later our 16-year-old grocery clerk told us the locals swim there all the time. Guess we met our match. Props, Utah, props.)

Next comes my flurry of excuses. “I’m too cold.” “I don’t want to get wet.” “My bathing suit is at the BOTTOM of my suitcase.” “People might laugh at us for lying facedown in this three inch deep creek on the side of the highway in BF-Colorado.”

Macky, being the amateur therapist that he is, is usually able to get to the root of the problem which is almost always this: “I’m cranky and petulant and enjoying being cranky and petulant and I know that dousing myself in cold water will cheer me up and therefore I do not want to.”

Once my inner psyche has been aired like that there isn’t much I can do but follow him to whatever ice-cold river/lake/ocean we have found this time. I make a good show of complaining en route, but as soon as I feel that first gasp of air forced from my lungs, that first tingling in my extremities, I feel my mood start to turn around. Things that seemed life-threatening before now seem like mere annoyances. Things that were hard are now easy. Just as the air is forced out of my lungs, my insecurities, concerns, hesitations and fears are expelled from my mind. When the surf crashes over my head and the salt stings my eyes, I embrace the present, because there is nowhere else to be and nothing else matters. It is cleansing. It is beautiful.

I want to approach my whole life with the same humility and sense of purpose I feel when I launch off a cliff into an crystal blue mountain lake. I want to take risks. I want to experience the unknown and embrace change and see all possibilities. I want to travel the way I swim: full immersion, no take-backs, in the moment. I want to be bowled over and left breathless by the enormity of what it means to be alive, right now, right here.

Today I went swimming in the Pacific ocean, which despite its name is neither peaceful nor warm (or at least this part of it certainly isn’t). And, okay, yes, I cheated and wore a wetsuit. But, trust me, it’s still plenty cold. The tide was low and the waves seemed to come from three directions at once. The fog was rolling in so the water was a steely gray, not the vibrant blue-green it is on a sunny day. Days like this make for lousy boogie-boarding–you get up on one wave and then another comes in from your left and bowls you over–but the effect of the cold water is still there. Letting icy waves slam into my body, over and over again, is cathartic; with each icy cascade I feel a little of the stress and irritation of the past week fade away. Cold water erases me, exorcises my demons, and lets me start over a little cleaner and a lot braver.

And now, for your entertainment, a little bit of Macky’s handiwork: