An Ocean of Darkness

People see the smile outside. No one sees the darkness inside. Not just a spot or two of darkness. A whole ocean of darkness. I am drowning in it. Many times I’ve tried to keep my head above. Many times I’ve resurfaced when I couldn’t keep my head up and had gone down under. But every time I go under, I find resurfacing a little more difficult than the last time. Every time I go under, I need to hold my breath. For letting go of my breath means letting go of my life. If I let the air leave my lungs, my lungs, starved of air and strained with the effort of holding out on their own, are programmed to suck in the dark waters. Dark waters of the ocean of darkness. And once the darkness enters my body through my lungs……my lungs starved of breath, know nothing else but that it is time to tell me that this is what drowning is. Like, “I’m sorry but I’ve failed. I held out very long but, starved of air, the need to suck in whatever was available to fill myself up, was pressing. Just like a hungry child feels compelled to devour rotten remnants of other people’s meals to fill up his empty stomach.”

The suffocating dark waters swirl around, all around. I flail my arms and legs about. My strength ebbs with all the effort. My muscles, devoid of oxygen, also begin to start giving up. But some point of light in some recess in my brain pushes me to exert myself once more. With this psychic strength, I push down with all my remaining energy and resurface. After resurfacing, every initial breath is painful. My lungs, my heart, my nose, my eyes, my ears; all hurt. Slowly, with great effort, the breathing becomes normal and the pain recedes. But then, I am not as strong as I was before I went under, am I? There is wear and tear of my muscles, everywhere, from my extremities to my lungs and heart. There is nothing out there to replenish the energy store. So the muscles never recover, however much the body may want them to.

And then, when the next wave of darkness rushes towards me, I find it more difficult to brace myself. The entire process of holding out and fighting the wave, then going under when that fails, and then resurfacing, and then returning to a semblance of normality, leaves me even more depleted of energy than the time before. The process goes on without a break. My body is tired. My mind is tired too. My spirit is probably the point of light in my brain which pushes me to fight each time, despite knowledge of the inevitable outcome.

This point of light too, is dimming with each episode. The body and mind try to put some more oil into the burning lamp. Meditation, writing, playing, yoga, spirituality. They are all supposed to give strength to the flame inside my brain, to what I think is my spirit. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. The number of times they work is fast reducing while the number of times they don’t is accelerating like a car with the gas pedal pressed all the way down to the floor. So the light gets dimmer and dimmer. And when it goes out, I may find the ocean of darkness, surrounding me, too comforting to be worth fighting against. My body, dead tired; my mind, totally blank; and my spirit, out. Oh look, the ocean bed tempts. How nice would it be to just lie down there, curled up like a new born. How nice would it be not to fight any more. How nice would it be not to make an effort any more. How nice would it be to feel no pain. How nice would it be to float, weightlessly, in the darkness. Float and float and float. To let it guide and let me follow. To let it cushion me from all that lies above. To let me be. Just let it be.

PS : Please don't give up........perhaps there will be a day when the waves of darkness shall recede.....and you have to keep fighting to see the light of THAT day.

Waves of the Ocean

I have often wondered what is it about the sea or the ocean that makes me feel so calm and collected.

For years together, I've lived in a coastal city. Often, outings meant a visit to the beach. Sometimes, when the sun was really white hot and the only way one could enjoy the beach was by sitting inside a vehicle and watching the waves. Sometimes, just after a thunder shower, when the sky was a brilliant blue with puffs of clouds, black-grey-white, painted on it, like a craft class would paste, wool on blue-painted canvas. Sometimes, when the night sky was lit up silvery by a huge full moon, and there would be a silvery stairway down which the moonbeams descended from the heavens onto the water and danced on the otherwise invisible waves. Sometimes, when the everything was just dark and quiet, and one could feel the bay waters just by meta-cognition. Holidays, too, were mostly along the coast. Sometimes on the East, sometimes on the West.

I have spent hours and hours of just sitting by the beach, and watching the waves come and go. The changing colours of the sea are so captivating. So many shades of blue and green, and everything in between. The waves sometimes come up to my feet, tease me and run away fast, like my kids always do. After a wave recedes, it leaves stuff behind. It is interesting to watch tiny creatures like crabs emerge and scuttle away on their sideways travels.

However more than the scenery on view, I find myself entranced with the movement of the waves. Here comes one, and then it goes. Here comes another. Wait. Is it going to build up or dissipate by the undercurrent? See, this is more frothy! Surf!! Will this one go out further than the last one? So on goes the chatter inside my mind. Here, gone. Here, gone. This is one sureshot way of calming my overshot nerves. The longer I watch the motion of the waves, the calmer I feel. Relaxed. Like this is life. The rest can wait.

Today, I had an enlightening moment. Eureka! Actually wave-watching is mindfulness. It is consciousness. It is being in the moment, living just the moment. Mindfulness uses one's breath to anchor one's mind. Breath in, breath out. "Breath" not "Breathe". When we use the phrase "breathe in, breathe out", we are not being mindful. We are actively doing something. So it is "Doing" not "Being", as one does in living mindfully. "Breath in, breath out" is being. Just being in the present. An automatic process which we passively observe.  The straying mind is anchored by the breath.

Similarly, here the wave comes, here the wave goes. We just passively observe the movement of the waves, like we passively observe our breathing. The wandering mind is stopped from wandering further, slowly roped in and then tied to the movement of the waves. This is mindfulness. Our mind is fully and completely aware of the present, in the present, filled up with the present. The mind and body are both in one state. Being. Just Being. In the Present.