A lot of the magic this month came from living and working near the beach. I didn’t find work as draining this month. And once again, I have the beach to thank for that as our workspace was across the street from the Znjan beach.
Our workspace in Split, WIP Coworking is the first space we’ve worked out of that is created and run by Remote Year. It’s the kind of space you look forward to coming to: bright, beautiful, and spacious. The fact that you look out to views of palm trees and the sea is a major selling point. Most days I would sit facing the window and the water. Some days it felt downright surreal, like I was looking at the generic beach screensaver installed on your machine, except the screensaver was real life.
Some might find that view distracting, but I found it to be very calming. Whenever work was stressful, I would pause and simply look up and get lost in the natural beauty of the landscape: giving my eyes a break from my screen, and my brain a quick break with beach views.
So much of my work life in Chicago revolves around my commute. Eventually, I found myself moving to be closer to work as I couldn’t deal with the bus to train transfer anymore. We all know how much a good or bad commute can impact the rest of your day. Right or wrong, your commute holds a lot of power over your daily happiness.
In Split I got a taste of how sweet it can be. I can’t even use the word commute to describe it, for commute implies drudgery and repetition. I walked to work every day and every day it was a pleasure. The city dweller in me feels like any time you can walk to work that is a luxury. When the walk is less than 10 minutes and you have a view of the Adriatic the whole time, well now you’re just downright lucky. I lived on the same street as the workspace so I simply headed downhill each afternoon. I was living the high life again and I was keenly aware of just how high I was living.
There is one added bonus to working across the street from the beach that I unfortunately didn’t realize until my second to last day: a swim break. The same idea as a smoke break, brief in duration, only healthier and more refreshing. Our last Thursday in Split I had a block of meetings from 10:30 p.m. to midnight. I decided to take a swim break before my late night block in an effort to revive myself.
My nightswim was idyllic. The water was both dark and inviting, with the moonlight reflecting on the water as my night light. Surpsingly, I wasn’t alone. There were several people on the beach and a few in the water. As I walked down to the water, I was mentally preparing myself for the cold and telling myself to dive right in. But as my feet hit the water, I found that the water was warmer than during the day, and with that, my whole body relaxed and my head went under. And in that first submersion, I immediately asked myself “Why didn’t I do this sooner?!”
But that’s how this trip goes sometimes, you don’t discover the good stuff until the end of the month. Instead of dwelling on the could have, would have, should have, I’ve shifted my perspective to gratitude. I’m grateful I had that nightswim. It was one of those little moments that will stick with me. That warm comfort that comes from feeling like you are the only person in the world. So content in my solitude, enjoying nature, wrapped in water, with the obvious choice “Nightswimming” playing in my head the whole time. That dark beauty of a song that sounds like dusk and captures the feeling of nostalgia better than a firefly in a mason jar.
Indeed, “Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.” And what a quiet, beautiful night it was. One of those magical moments when the song in your head echoes the emotions you are feeling in that exact moment. The movement of the water mirroring the easy flow of the piano melody. And those bittersweet strings, as if with every down bow, you are pulling a memory from the back of the personal card catalog that is your memory, to the oboe that comes in at the end whose sound pierces the heart as only recollection can.
Remembering that night is one card I will be pulling from my memory for years to come.
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