Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Underwater Tied

I woke up underwater today. If you were at the edge of the pond, you would see me lying there, just under the clear surface, starkly ivory and hair weaving gently within the weeds that wave to no tide. If you peer more closely, you can see three small pronged openings just below my left ear. Let me blink and bend my long neck in a slow turn, mocking a lazed palm for your viewing understanding and hypnotic pleasure. Those pulsing black points are something like gills because I, as most of you already know or carry an inkling of, am not quite of this earth. I'm rather in between worlds, depending on my waking; depending on who's asking; depending on the strength of my word.  Some, though, just have too widely grated belief vents and all kinds of things go falling through their cracks. A fine filter is hard to obtain. I understand and cannot completely help you with that. Especially since with each opening of my mouth, bubbles and gurgles seem to escape rather than words. 

I think in the night I was dry and on land. That is, until my dreams welled and rose and foamed, never calming - much like a sea of champagne eventually pouring from my eyes and mouth in a sparkling, spilling fantasia. My mattress melted into the wooden floor, mixing into mud on which I would still lay. The soft click of my lids, back and forth, back and forth, churned falling threads that soaked my pillow into disintegration. The touch of water turned all things bedroom to sandman cove complete with floor-skimming bobby pin minnows (so fleeting!), a comforter of fluffy lotus blossoms , and tiny torn paper frogs with ribbits of acting tidbits upon them.

Black, beady, pierc├ęd grains roll around with liquid gravity, boba-like and matching the dark tones and shadows that angle strangely in an element such as this; in the calm, gray light of morning with the eventual sword-like ray slicing through my magic water box. My slip, well, does just that - off a shoulder, up a thigh, hugging me like a child and just as wont to be invisible. Curious fringe peeks here and there. Lashes blink with full serenity and I tell you - with these eyes - that this is all a display. It's a partial dream halfway happening in a pure imagination. A blend to be unsolved and relished within. Go on. Dip a toe in and do tell me when it hits this warm, languid, neutral perfection; when it disturbs the surface or is disturbed. You'll have an entire foot in before you know it or can acknowledge it. Mark my words, you can be unknowingly immersed.

But what is this thick syrup layered atop my emotional tank? I "awoke" and found everything stirring below with slow, frenzied intensity - yet unable to break through via word, tongue or cord. Kind of....sperm and egg, if you will. It sometimes takes forever to conceive or birth a thought healthfully into the world; or just outside of oneself. Somedays it all stays just behind the eyes, does it not?  The eyes - which are rich, wet, mysterious ecosystems of their own. This is what comes across in film. This is not what people often look for in life. Every once in a while someone will turn to look at me (as I normally have addressed them) and their gaze is so resonant that I feel both sonically blown and pulled; almost stuck, as if plastered on the outskirts of their inner universe, and possibly totally unprepared to sustain myself if I fall in to their mind. The last time I experienced this, I darted my energy away from the heat of this burning bush, fearful that I would be...seen too deeply for my current comfort. But is that a choice I am to be concerned with? Is that something to turn from? To shorten one's breath near? Does it matter?

I wish we were more willing to take on that mutual risk. Enter my world and I will enter yours - perhaps we can even draw two bridges and cross them with binoculars and tin cans, remaining visible, audible and childlike to one another; trusting and curious in every step.  Unafraid. For even if I am different and dark, so may be you. It is a keen piece of sight to see the dark with the light - a quality to be embraced and rejoiced, not hidden from as if only exuding hints of eau de shame. 

It's perfectly okay to remain and stew in your own tank for a day. Bump into those corners and eat up that introspective algae. Look at everything consciously outside of yourself. Just remember to resist temptation toward the safety of the cave. Find ways to expose yourself - happily, beautifully and mutually. With my 51% introversion, I am often of both land and sea. It does not always lessen my fear to leave one for the other, but it must be done - for who knows what I will discover. Joseph Campbell it up, kid, so that little by little we shed our old selves and thinking, only to glisten in the sun.