Tag: ocean

103a – enroute san francisco

Haven’t been able to journal at all. I’m not sure what’s happened to me over the last ten days.. I feel quite dissociated and maybe that’s part of the problem. 

There is a bigger problem though. Every time I sit down to write I can’t figure out what I want to write about. This is not a new problem, but it’s a problem I haven’t faced too recently. Except for the last 2-3 months— wherein this problem has been very present. 

Honestly I’d love to write about how lovely it is that my flight is taking a very scenic route over the Pacific Ocean and how the surface of the water glows under the 3pm sun and how the clouds seem to be merging with the sky and the water and how there are a few islands that I can spot even though we’re probably pretty high up— islands that I think I’m able to spot on the map too— probably the Chanel islands of California. 

I’d love to write about how the water is so beautiful that it makes me realise that despite having lived in California for over three years I never really took a proper dip in the water. I know why I didn’t— but I’d like to change that. I don’t know if I can do that this trip, but within the next couple years, I’d definitely like to change that. 

I feel guilty for expecting too much from people. Luckily my partner is the same as me, so we keep high expectations from each other, I feel quite grateful for that, but hanging out with other people does make me realise that there are enough people who don’t function this way. People who’re willing to tolerate so many little things, who don’t want to change or accommodate or really who’re just not willing to understand the people around them. Anyway, I know this is all abstracted out for anyone reading this to really understand what’s going on, so my apologies for that. 

Y and I want to go away to Goa for a month or so (we recently found that a friend is subleasing her place and it would be perfect for us) BUT I just remember today that I don’t think I have a 2 wheeler license! And one of the main reasons I wanted to go was to be able to practice 2-wheeler driving. What a bummer, eh. 

The pacific coast really is just so beautiful. I can see the clouds so low, they’re almost touching the land.

008a – appreciation for the sea

She stands at the edge of the pier, staring into the water the surface of which glistens brightly under the evening sky. She wishes the waves would meet her eyes and bring answers to questions she doesn’t know she has. Another lost soul makes its way to where she stands, but she doesn’t turn around – she fears she’ll see herself in them. She doesn’t turn around, she fears she might have to acknowledge their presence, she’s not done grieving the lost ones yet. She stares into the sea, hoping it’s her desperation that’s making it talk, and not the moon that’s barely visible tonight.

She hears voices float towards her from a little far away, a family of four out for fun, out practicing, trying to catch fish. She hears the voices but she doesn’t pay attention to them, she’s hoping the ripples and the waves will somehow fuse to make the sound that she really wants to hear. The sounds of the lost ones.

She’s been coming here for the last seven days, seeking and saying goodbye at the same time. She fears being recognized. She thinks if someone saw her twice they’d know what was happening, they’d know she’s been grieving. She’s shared her grief with everyone who’s listened, yet tonight she doesn’t want to be seen. Not unless that can bring her comfort.

She’s listened to Atlas Hands for hours and she’s found comfort in the idea of a shared external world. She cannot reach the moon or the stars but she can get pretty close to the sea. This is the first time in years she’s glad she lives near the water. This is the first time she’s fully appreciated the sea and all it can be and everything it can mean.

She is falling in love again. She is transferring her love for another heart into the sea. She tries to draw the meaning out of the memories and pour it all out into the sea, where it can dissolve with the water and free her a little bit. She’s been doing this for seven days, or seventy, she’s not really sure.

She starts making her way back to her house, there’s real life she needs to get back to. She doesn’t really want to go back, it’s peaceful outside. There’s a homeless man sleeping near a sidewalk, she wonders if she’d ever survive a life like that. She sees a group of homeless men talking and laughing. She wonders if, in this moment, they’re happier than she feels. She pays attention to people on her way back. She feels drawn to them, in ways she can’t always describe to other people. She moves slowly, as if in a movie. Everything she perceives feels beautiful. Every noise musical, every movement graceful. 

She’s making room for the new ones and she doesn’t know it yet. She doesn’t know she’ll be thinking about this night a couple months later from now. She’s found meaning in life all by herself and she doesn’t know it yet. 

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