I remember, when I was much younger, learning about undertows and how to survive being caught in one. There are currents that run through the water, under the surface, not just the visible push and pull of the tide you see standing at the shore. Any open-ocean-facing beach has an undertow, a current you can get caught in against your will. It can carry you right out into open ocean, far away from where you want to be. It’s a lonely and potentially fatal experience, being caught in an undertow. If you try to struggle against it, you’ll likely end up dangerously exhausted and pulled further away from shore. People drown this way. The best advice I ever heard, when I was living on an island, is to not panic in an undertow. Panic is your enemy. Instead you need to relax your muscles, enter into flotation mode and ride the current. You may find that the undertow spits you out much further down the shore, and then you just have to make your way back to your towel on foot. Or, if you’re focused, you’ll feel the point when something shifts in the water and you can swim your way out of the current. Even as I sit here typing this I can conjure very clearly - and fondly - the sensation of relaxing into the undertow. Is that strange to say? There is comfort in the sensation of giving over to a force of nature you cannot control, of sitting next to your fear and trusting. You have to believe that you’ll be OK, wherever the waves spit you out. Without that belief you will begin to panic, and that’s when you’re most in jeopardy.
For years I’ve had a recurring dream of being in the ocean at night. The water is both danger and safety at the same time.
