Water and Transcendence

It was mid-May of a warm spring; senior spring for me at my alma mater, and I wasn’t taking classes. I already had the required number of credits, and was mostly there just to be there a little bit longer. At that point, I hadn’t been living at my fraternity house for almost a year, though still spending time there. Any way, a day came in early May, shortly after I turned 22, that was a gift from the gods in New Hampshire. I had been feeling sluggish from a long winter spent reading the Frankfurt School, Jameson, Benjamin, Zizek et. al and needed an escape.

So I ran; past the well-kept brownstones, the looming Greek houses, the perfectly groomed dogs and -maintained BMWs and Audis. I was out of shape then, but managed about five miles (8 km) until my body did two things: 1) it told me “Benji, we’re done mate” and 2) it led me to the Connecticut River. I knew the river wasn’t warm enough to swim in, but at 12º or so, warm enough at least to wade into. So I did; exhausted from running, slightly out of my senses, I stood in a 12º Connecticut River, raising my arms like Rocky Balboa knocking out Ivan Drago. It’s hard to describe, but in that moment I *was* the champion of the world. The river rushing on my left and right, the early spring sun kissing my ever-browner temples, telling me “You’re the champ Benji!”

~ by Benji on 12 March 2016.

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