I am not sure I know who I am.
It has been rather blurry lately. Last week felt like years. More happened than I want to summarize.
Most days, there’s a steady narrative going through my mind. I admit, it is cumbersome living in a vertical world. I walk into things. Rice boils over. Eggs burn. Refrigerated items end in the pantry. Thoughts spill on the floor or stick to the ceiling. Ideas converge and explode.
I wish I could quiet some of my thoughts.
That’s when I swim below an imaginary line. Sometimes I can barely navigate the uneasiness it creates. But when I can, I breathe between shades of darkness and find silhouettes seeking lightness. It is an expansive voyage into an arching archive of ancientness; it is a place that sees both above, in and beyond.
It is necessary to spend time there sorting out how to splice through the ordinary and fly on the feathers of a continuum but not get caught in an elusive crossfire.
Quieting the vortex and eventually returning to the steady waves of lyrical notes is difficult.
Finally, as if it never occurred to me before, I took a short walk and found a narrow crease where I could rest sideways into this beauty of nature.
Some think of her as weedy and a nuisance. I see beauty and a wild quiet tenaciousness. However many times I cut her back and try to squelch her, she still persists and flourishes.
For right now, I hold the sea in my mug, sipping a gentle dual helix of healing. The torrents of salinity wash through and reassure me: Our individual strands are pouring into a tangent collective of “we”.
I need to hold onto all of this because it validates a cellular vocation and a trajectory assisting me back to the origins of my soul.