I have always shared a symbiotic relationship with the sea. I credit a lot of it to the fact that I’m a Piscean, but whatever the reason, I’m glad that its there.
Ever since it struck home that I’ll be starting over in London towards the end of this year, I made a subconscious decision to embrace as much as sunshine as I could, before learning to accept the snowy winters of the United Kingdom.
It started with the running.
In an attempt to outrace my thoughts, I fell back on to an old favorite pastime of mine – Running. I started running on the beach edge, blaring my iPod, and letting my limbs and lungs drown out the screamingly painful thoughts in my head. Finally, exhausted, I trudged onto the sand and collapsed, and underneath the protection of the clear blue sky, and the waves tickling my tattered Reeboks, I felt safe, for the first time since the year began. I felt that sooner or later, everything would click back, and it would click back better than before.
From that day onwards, the beach has become my savior. Some days I run. Some days I spread out on a rug in the sand, with a notebook and scribble freeflow poetry, the kind of poetry I haven’t been brave enough to write since high school. Some days I just sit and stare, into the vastness of the twinkling aquamarine waters, and suddenly, my problems, my life and just me in general, seem smaller, seem like little black dots compared to the scheme of greater things. Some days I go with friends, and we scribble in the sand, build monuments to failed relationships, sing Dear Prudence to the clouds, jump into lacy waves, and swim in beautiful blue waters. Some days I take a bagful of books, and beside the crashing waves and my iPhone crooning Carly by my side, I find that I’m able to read “heavies” like Tolstoy and Nabukov and Keats again. Even on the the days that I go to the beach and do nothing but drink coffee and smoke cigarettes, I leave with a sense of clarity that I am hard-pressed to find anywhere else. I am permanently sunburnt, and my flip-flops, blue bikini, my trusty Reeboks and faded shorts have become my new best friends. But I have clarity, and I have peace, and beneath the sunny skies, I am finding myself again.
I know that I’m stronger than this, and I know that I have my writing and my books to protect me. I know and am grateful for the fact that it is my writing and my dreams that has offered me the chance to start over, in a glorious city, in a whole other continent. I know that I can’t get by without a little help from my friends. I know that I have choices, I have options, and I have years and years ahead of me. I know that there is more out there, bigger things that I have to conquer. And I know that no matter where I go, and what decisions I make, I will always, yes, always, have the smell of the sea, the comfort of sand between my toes, and the feeling of the sun dancing on my shoulders embedded in a small and permanent part of me.