When Sara Nesson left her job as a mentor to Jewish teenagers in 2014 due to symptoms that she’d come to learn were from myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome — an incurable, debilitating condition — she thought she’d have more time to rest and go for gentle swims in pools in Marin.

But, she quickly came to realize that her body wasn’t able to do what it once could.

“That’s when I really knew something was wrong, because I’d stopped working. You regain a huge amount of time to rest and recover. But I noticed that every time I swam, I would feel really sick,” said Nesson, of San Anselmo. “I didn’t know I had chronic fatigue syndrome yet that’s a telltale sign that your body doesn’t tolerate aerobic exercise in the way it once did. Prior to that, when I was sick and still working, I was oblivious. I just kept swimming and I couldn’t really examine all that was happening. Within a few months, I let all my swim memberships go.”

Unable to swim, kayak, hike and ride her bike around Marin like she once could, Nesson returned to one of her early loves, the theater, and began sharing her musings on life, loss and her chronic illness in original monologues, which she’s performed online to groups throughout the country.

She’ll perform her latest work, “Body of Water,” in honor of Tu Bishvat, at 11:30 a.m. this morning online through San Rafael’s Congregation Rodef Sholom. Sponsored by the synagogue’s REAL Mental Health Initiative, the 25-minute show will be followed by a conversation, hosted by Rabbi Elana Rosen-Brown, where people will be able to share their own experiences of grief, loss, hope, resilience or however the piece resonates with them.

“It’s a chance for people to come and talk about loss and honor that grief and, at the same time, celebrate our resilience and capacity to keep going,” said Nesson, who has been touring as an online storyteller since 2021.

Admission is free. Register at shorturl.at/3IftA.

She’s currently in production for her first dance film, “Unbound,” which will feature 20 people living with long-haul conditions.

Q In this piece, what messages do you delve into?

A I’ve been thinking about my own experiences with my body and that I’m living with chronic illness. I thought it would be interesting to write a piece where I explored my relationship to the natural world. The Earth is also living with chronic illness, you could say. I was interested in exploring the connection between those two things. It’s really a story about what it’s like to wrestle with life’s limitations and to face loss. And those losses could include the losses that come with illness or aging, or just the losses we feel as we see what’s happening around us in the world. And how do we reconcile ourselves to those things? How do we still have a good life, a meaningful life, a joyful life in spite of the limitations that come inevitably for everyone?

It weaves a story about being with my husband on a vacation in Mendocino and trying to navigate the logistics to go kayaking. And that story is woven with more poetic writing about my relationship with water, but also looking at the sacred dimensions of water.

Q How’s this piece similar or different from your last work?

A The action of this piece takes place over one day, and then it’s woven with memories from my past. The other piece was my life story through the lens of creativity and spirituality. This one is a much closer look at what it’s like to live in a body where there’s illness, where there’s limitation. I didn’t want to delve into my grief about my relationship with water, but I ended up feeling that was the best way to tell the story. It’s personal, but it’s more focused about my relationship to my body, to sports, to water, to Marin County, and the frustrating experience of having illness and ultimately how we all find our way to be whole in spite of losses. I feel that’s important in life, that when we lose things, we make space to really honor them, to grieve them, to talk about them.

Q How’s your relationship with water these days?

A Now that I can no longer swim and kayak to my heart’s delight as I once did, I have had to develop a different relationship to water. It still does bring me a sense of calm and peace to be near a body of water. I’ve spent some time out at Marshall and Tomales Bay and when I go to the water now, I still feel the beauty of it. I do think it’s very sacred. But I can only look, so it’s bittersweet. But I think part of my healing, my growth has been that I can go and be with it. Sharing some of the memories, it’s like I’m dipping back into that part of me and honoring that, even if it’s lost.

Q How do grief and loss factor into how you view the environment?

A I definitely touch on that in this piece because it’s one of the reasons why I wanted to write the piece. The climate crisis is so upon us. We do live in a different world and I know that in my lifetime I’m not going to see it restored to what I grew up with. And that’s sad. We don’t live with the security of knowing that things are going to be OK for the Earth. What we have to do living in this world is similar to what I do with my losses: still to appreciate what’s been lost, to appreciate what’s still here and tend to it with love and, like many people, to do what we can to help make it better.