ILLUSION AND THE SEA
Our true emotions are not always the ones shown. Pleasure and joy sometimes trick us but sooner or later we must come to terms with reality and either change or leave
I looked at it worried but it just smiled back.
Only the sea can do that. Look at a plain or a mountain, and day after day, little will change on their stony façade. Look at them all you want, and they’ll never bat an eyelid. But the sea is different. The sun, the clouds and the wind marry with the water and make her breathe. The sea is never the same. She can be still or noisy, calm or angry, happy or sad. And she is unafraid. She looks at you and shows you how she feels.
This morning she looked at me and smiled.
She wasn’t merely content. She didn’t laugh loudly. She just smiled. Weathermen love to spoil it all, and tell you other things. They say that the wind was just enough to break her surface, that the sky was clear, that she reflected sunrays from the proper angle. But I was not a scientist. I looked at the surface of things.
The sea just smiled and invited me in.
I had spent four days at Ios. I had practically crossed it end to end and even fallen in love. I had seen most of its beaches and its rocky shores and the sea that went out beyond. And she had meant nothing to me, until this morning.
I couldn’t refuse her. I took off what little clothes I wore and crossed the water line. The sea’s smile was genuine. She was surprisingly warm and drew me in till only my head projected out. I swam away from the cove and out into the open. At other times, the sea could have been angry. She could have carried me away to bash me against the rocks and drown me and wash out my lifeless body on the shore. But today she was smiling. She had swallowed me up and hid my body in her belly and I felt good being inside her. Then when I had gone out far enough, I layed back and I could only breathe and stare at the sky. And maybe time passed quickly, or didn’t pass at all, but I didn’t know which because I only heard a drone and nothing happened.
I was practically half-asleep.
(Ch. 9, page 90)
I looked at it worried but it just smiled back.
Only the sea can do that. Look at a plain or a mountain, and day after day, little will change on their stony façade. Look at them all you want, and they’ll never bat an eyelid. But the sea is different. The sun, the clouds and the wind marry with the water and make her breathe. The sea is never the same. She can be still or noisy, calm or angry, happy or sad. And she is unafraid. She looks at you and shows you how she feels.
This morning she looked at me and smiled.
She wasn’t merely content. She didn’t laugh loudly. She just smiled. Weathermen love to spoil it all, and tell you other things. They say that the wind was just enough to break her surface, that the sky was clear, that she reflected sunrays from the proper angle. But I was not a scientist. I looked at the surface of things.
The sea just smiled and invited me in.
I had spent four days at Ios. I had practically crossed it end to end and even fallen in love. I had seen most of its beaches and its rocky shores and the sea that went out beyond. And she had meant nothing to me, until this morning.
I couldn’t refuse her. I took off what little clothes I wore and crossed the water line. The sea’s smile was genuine. She was surprisingly warm and drew me in till only my head projected out. I swam away from the cove and out into the open. At other times, the sea could have been angry. She could have carried me away to bash me against the rocks and drown me and wash out my lifeless body on the shore. But today she was smiling. She had swallowed me up and hid my body in her belly and I felt good being inside her. Then when I had gone out far enough, I layed back and I could only breathe and stare at the sky. And maybe time passed quickly, or didn’t pass at all, but I didn’t know which because I only heard a drone and nothing happened.
I was practically half-asleep.
(Ch. 9, page 90)
The sun was up, and from where I was sitting, I could look out to the sea. It was the same sea that had smiled at me a couple of days before, the same sea that had invited me into her belly and hid me. But there was a northern breeze this morning. Not a gale wind or anything fierce, but enough of a blow to raise waves and bash them on to the shore. And the sea wasn’t that mad and the waves weren’t that big. And the sea didn’t smile at me, and didn’t invite me in. And if I had dropped in, she would have pushed me out. Not to smash me against the rocks and kill me. She wasn’t that mad at me. But to push me out to the sand and expose all of me for what I was.
(Ch. 18, page 175)
(Ch. 18, page 175)
I didn’t say a thing. I could remain a stranger, with my mask securely on, and live happily ever after. Love could not be without opaqueness, it could not flourish without mystery, it could not last without absence.
But the sea was the master of illusion.
You looked into her and she deformed your face. She smiled at you and invited you in while she had swallowed a thousand ships and drowned a million men. She caressed you while sharp teeth waited to tear your flesh away. And in her depths, Polaris submarines patiently waited to end posterity forever.
I could no longer trust the sea.
Only her surface had emotion. Her depths were dark and calculating. I thought I looked good, but people told me that my face was deformed. I had stayed inside her and she had destroyed the very things I had tried to protect.
No, the sea was not for me. It was best that I stayed out in the sun. There were mirrors I could look into, to see my face. And my naked body, I think, had a beauty of its own.
The masks had to come off.
(Ch. 21, page 199)
But the sea was the master of illusion.
You looked into her and she deformed your face. She smiled at you and invited you in while she had swallowed a thousand ships and drowned a million men. She caressed you while sharp teeth waited to tear your flesh away. And in her depths, Polaris submarines patiently waited to end posterity forever.
I could no longer trust the sea.
Only her surface had emotion. Her depths were dark and calculating. I thought I looked good, but people told me that my face was deformed. I had stayed inside her and she had destroyed the very things I had tried to protect.
No, the sea was not for me. It was best that I stayed out in the sun. There were mirrors I could look into, to see my face. And my naked body, I think, had a beauty of its own.
The masks had to come off.
(Ch. 21, page 199)
I received a message from Sid just as we arrived at the lighthouse. It said: ‘took her sleeping bag from luggage rack while she was in washroom. Threw it to sea.’
So the sea had taken it. The sea took everything. She gulped all the world’s evils and buried them in her depths. And still when you looked at her, she managed to smile.
She was nature’s biggest hypocrite.
(Ch. 22, page 208)
So the sea had taken it. The sea took everything. She gulped all the world’s evils and buried them in her depths. And still when you looked at her, she managed to smile.
She was nature’s biggest hypocrite.
(Ch. 22, page 208)
No comments:
Post a Comment