I feel there's things I can get away with not telling.
I long to sleep in the shallow, and let the waves carry me out far. Freedom is said to be miles from the shore, yet how is it I feel such a wondrous sense of liberty the moment I start to swim out? When a longer arm could easily reach out and lure me back to shore.
I translate much of my relationship with the world lately in such terms. As though there is something in the thick, luring, preying, not wishing me well. I'm deep in work, and trying to loosen the hold of my own left hemisphere. I wish to keep my whispers private, and go out further than you have wish to go. Somewhere I hope you won't find me.
It's at the sea I remember how little I want to be found, noticed, acknowledged. I have a deep need to disappear. I've told you, haven't I? So why am I here, at all? I guess I wanted to say hello.
The other day, I told someone I'm needing a long period of introspection so had to decline an invitation. I'm relishing greatly saying no to things. No, I would like to stay in. I would like to focus.
To take ample time for long, winding strings of thought built on complexity and metaphor, though not necessarily a rigid kind of logic. I'm frankly tired of the problems that require solving. A clean, sterile attention of me, when I've no wish to give such a thing.
I'm sick of this digital world that's got us convinced we'd be better off as machines, so we better turn off everything that's nuanced, beautiful, hard to read about ourselves. In order to be more efficient.
Fuck efficiency.
I want to keep the parts of myself that need to stay for long periods by the sea. I worry, like the women in the stories, that someone will steal my true coat and burn or hide it away from me. Being by the shore reminds me of how I feel trapped here, really, and long to leave.
It's an uneasy relationship, the kind humanity is predicated on.
Can't really explain, the balm-like kinship of the waves when they rock up on the shore. That sacred sense of being held, acknowledged, and secretly soothed. I thought for days of all the greatest turmoils I've carried out to sea. How it's taken all my worries, the good things I can do on account of having the time to swim. Every once in a while.
The sacrifice inherent in nature.
The knowing I will or at least should be asked someday for my pound of flesh. To give back to the water all these beautiful things it's given me. But will it?
Will I.
This song-poem always accompanies me to the water. Always. Perhaps on account of having built a world of terrible but also wondrous things which accompany me, and make my existence more stimulating.
Libertatea reală la kilometri de mal.Not water. But not entirely land, either. In my ears while I work. Hi, @ablaze. Happy Three Tune Tuesday.
And hello to you.
