Swimming in Structures

I’ve been told by a good many unsolicited lecturers that we’re all swimming in structures. It is, whether we know it or not, a part of existence. This is regardless of personal buoyancy and paddling expertise as determined by the YMCA. They rarely elaborate further, assuming the people huddling around their upturned milk crate know just what they mean. Perhaps in lots of cases, the recipients of this sacred knowledge are left confused and distraught. 

Not I.

I know precisely what they mean by structures and have ever since I had the privilege of taking a family vacation to the crystal blue Caribbean. It was a resort like any other, with its white sandy beaches and incessant steel drumming. I took to snorkeling as a way to see the sea from the surface. As a student of the Brooklyn Bridge’s fraught construction, scuba diving was not my idea of relaxation. Unless you consider nitrogen in the bloodstream as the first step towards pure rest. 

When I would snorkel, I would see things. Bricks, cans of Coors light, and realize, that there was more than algae, coral and schools of fish down there. Water is an amazing thing. The idea that all the water on the planet just gets recycled over and over, arriving back to us in different forms is a wondrous concept. Recycling as an act of curbside devotion was rather inscrutable, but I could taste the humidity on a hot summer day. This I could actually grasp. And despite what my Australian friends say about the merits of a pointless game like boomerang, maybe they have a point when it comes to water.

Whether you’re drinking a glass of H2O, stepping into a street puddle, or bathing at the perfect temperature, you might as well be in Atlantis meeting Plato for a cocktail and more. Because we’re all swimming in structures. They could be wide, sweeping steps, or columns of a variety of competing architectural styles, or arches used to carry humans or human waste. This is why having a spotter is prudent. Otherwise you might run into a sudden pillar and have no way of reaching the surface conscious. Whatever it is, we’re carefully performing the elementary backstroke by it, so as not to disrupt any nearby marine life. 

Unless you believe it's only a race to the bottom.