Ever since my husband and I started to attend Knesset Israel two years ago, we never missed services on Shabbat morning.
Then came the shelter-in-place orders and, suddenly, we had to daven at home. I was consistent about praying but it just wasn’t the same, with our baby daughter crying for me and our new puppy nipping at my toes.
Now that we’re praying with a physically distanced minyan in a backyard, it’s much better than doing it alone. Although a backyard is nice, nothing can compare with walking into our shul and feeling those holy vibes and the energy of the many Jews who were there before us. I look forward to the day we can go back.
Thankfully, though, I’ve found a new way to connect, in the unlikeliest place: the Pacific Ocean.
It’s funny, because just a few months ago, I complained to a friend about how the ocean is freezing and filled with gross seaweed. The waves are massive and you come out feeling like you’ve just been through a war. I told her how I missed the warm and calm Atlantic waters from my childhood.
But then, when COVID-19 hit, and I faced going to the local mikveh or finding a natural body of water, I chose the latter.
I was frightened. Last summer, I went to the beach in Oxnard and came out of the water with the chills. To keep myself calm leading up to it, I thought about how the mind is more powerful than the body. I was just psyching out myself. I’d gone in cold water before and survived and I could do it again. I’d just given birth — could it be harder than that?
There is nothing more fulfilling than floating in the ocean at sunset.
When I got to the ocean, I was already freezing just standing on the beach. With my husband’s encouragement, I ran in, said my blessing and came out shivering. It was rough for a good five minutes but then I felt euphoric. I smiled underneath my mask for the next hour. I was refreshed and relaxed and happy. I wanted more.
As soon as the beaches reopened, my husband, daughter and I started to explore new ones every week. It’s become our ritual. Each time, the same thing happens: I don’t want to go in. I dip my toes and feel how chilly it is. I rush to the safety of the warm sand and then tell myself, “I have to do this.” I wait for the nod from my husband, pray to HaShem for strength and jump in. It’s painful for a good 20 seconds but then it’s wonderful.
When I’m in the water, I thank HaShem for the magnificently beautiful Earth. After months of isolation, I’ve finally found my freedom. Swimming in that icy cold water makes me feel more rejuvenated than a good night’s sleep, more energized than I do after running and absolutely content with my life in the midst of so much craziness going on in the world. There is nothing more fulfilling than floating in the ocean at sunset, hearing the waves crashing down around me and smelling that fresh, salty air.
It gives me a sense of inner peace in a time when I’m freaked out by the fireworks exploding in my neighborhood, saddened by the boarded-up buildings around me and unsure about how long this pandemic will last. All the things I used to do, such as go to restaurants and shopping malls, were fun and I miss them, but they were a distraction from the splendor that was around me this entire time. I’d never go to the beach more than a few times per year pre-COVID-19, and now I can’t stop. I can’t get enough of HaShem’s amazing creations.
I always thought I had to be in shul to find HaShem. It turns out, He’s been everywhere all along.
Kylie Ora Lobell is a Journal contributing writer.
