Back to the Shore

I haven't had a lot to say of late. I guess it's because I'm trying to identify the feelings that are rushing through my head. Have you ever been in a moment that seems surreal, almost as if it were scripted, and at the receipt of information, your initial reaction is the truest. You may cry, you may laugh, you may get angry, but in that moment, however your feelings are displayed, they are real and can be identified. It isn't until later, when you've had some time to reflect that you realize the ramifications of those feelings and what led to your being at that point.

Do you remember swimming in the ocean as a kid and when the water was placid, you could snorkel and see all the fish and the coral and beauty the ocean offers? It seems that as violent as the ocean can be, it is a place of serenity and stillness. But then you try to snorkel on a day when the waves are crashing with violence against the shore and you're trying to make your way through the surf. You know that just beyond that break, the water may still rush with aggression and malcontent, but at least you'll be in place where you can observe the sea's activities. You take the time to open your hands and peer at the weighted object, still as it rests in your hand, but only temporarily.

It is something that you've held onto for times of elation and celebration, you've cherished it when sobs were the only music your ears heard, you wished you could hold onto it when you were alone. In your rush to get to your place of stillness, you find yourself flush with a wave that causes your body to turn. Water rushes into your mask and you fight with determination to break into the air and breath. While you're reeling from the impact of the wave, you drop your treasure. As the water churns overhead and you see more bubbles than transparent blue glass, you wonder if it is worth risking your life to regain it - to grasp it once more.

Becoming inattentive to all the signs that are around you resulted in a treasure being lost, buried beneath the tranquil chaos of the sea. You look down from the water's surface, in contemplation over a pending decision, should you scale the depths of the seas to regain it? Or, should you lift up your head to bathe in the air necessary for life. When you lift your head, the water escapes from your lungs, you cough to release the past and any pain. Slowly you begin to make your way back to the shore, in silence.