The crossing, part two: complete contemplation

I found myself staring at the water.  After all, this was the first time I had ever been completely surrounded by water on all sides- I mean, technically being on any continent means you're surrounded, but if you would all stop being so nerdy for a second and keep in mind that a boat in the ocean is much smaller and much closer to water than, say, Dayton, OH, you'd catch my meaning.  It was mesmerizing.  I just kept looking and looking and looking.  Observing the patterns of the waves- how they seemed to have a symmetry and how they all danced with purpose as they foamed into the bow of the ship.  Even the foam was hypnotic- the white formed a puffy iridescent lace that fell into aquamarine and then to crystal blue- the ocean knitting its own fabric of sorts.  I couldn't get enough.

There is also something about floating on top of a whole new habitat.  You know- there's tons of stuff down there- stuff that can only live in water, and only in salt water at that.  Of course, you could say the same thing about living on land, as there are things that live in the earth and such. But nothing in the earth is as big as an 800-pound tuna, or a shark, or a WHALE.....and thank God for that- imagine the nightmare it would pose
for city planning.  As it is, thinking about the fact that they have now found colossal squid, it's hard not to imagine the antique inscribed novels of tentacles rising out of the ocean to drag a vessel to the murky depths. Or worse yet, to imagine that the megalodon still exists and is coming to bite a hunk out of the Rotterdam, just as the curtain rises for showtime.

Okay- so now I'M being a nerd- I never said I wasn't.  OH- did I tell you that I saw a stingray come up in the waves?  An actual stingray- triangular with the long tapered broomstick tail.  For the most part I had only seen a bird or the occasional kelp patch.  But even thinking about the bird- how it floated with no one else around- no other birds, no other boats, nothing for miles.  And it was perfectly fine with its life- no panic no stress. Chillin.  I couldn't help but think that was somehow a symbol of how I needed to see life.  Not that the bird would always be alone, and not that I would be either.  But that the ocean- and life- Would take care of things as long as the bird and I did what we had to do.

It's a tricky place to be in life.  It requires tremendous faith and tremendous oblivion.  You've gotta ignore a whole bunch of bullshit that is constantly being lobbed at you by family, friends, magazines, the news, movies, commercials, billboards- pretty much everywhere you look.  Without this sounding like the beginning of an after-school special, it just means letting go of a bunch of pre-conceived notions about what one SHOULD be doing with life.  In other words, the only thing one should be doing is what one wants to do.  Given that I've lived with many regrets, I began to realize how much I had not done just that. That's what got me to audition in the first place.

The bird on the water was so calm.  He/she didn't dive, didn't flap, didn't even move his/her head to observe the massiveness passing it by.  It just kept floating along, rocking along with the waves.  Time for me to do the same. I mean, 'tis truly a very in-between place- one never feels quite settled. The funny thing is, there is no better way to feel more grounded.