And that's my life, salt brain. Sea-eyes. I finally got fins and a mask and didn't even bother with the snorkel literally just ditched my towel and tossed my clothes and ran for the sea. And it feels like I'll blow it now, trying to give words to what that was like, being finally able to see what I could feel for all these years? To really see. Most people it scares them to feel that large body living and breathing and pulling and pushing you all around but me I have nothing but intrigue. It's an honor to dance with her, to be swept up in her moves. And I don't know how to make people understand which means I guess I can't which means I guess I just get to keep the smile of secret glee all to me. Which is that I have a salt water heart. Which means really and secretly I know the truth of the alchemy-romance between the ocean and the sun.
Holy god more than once I had to move my legs hard to get to the top again because I could've stayed down there forever-- but I mean you know, it's just--air. Because when I was far enough out above my head and dove under again and felt it, the pull--the livingness--I turned quick as I could which with fins is still awkward but I was looking for it, what I felt--and there it was and sure as I saw it well it also saw me, too--and this is the part I can't explain and you won't understand. But the shock was enough for me to have to fast remind myself not to breathe in bc I'd a sucked sea. Which I think I would've been happy like sorta it's finding Camelot under there, but also please don't read this the wrong way it's not like I want to drown. What I am trying to say is there where the sunlight went under and was glistening with the water it was real, the livingness, like it was living, had presence. Was more life-full and emanating with the life-ness then the small skate that slid under me or the many many schools of corvinas I swam through. And I knew it was real when I saw it bc I had to squelch my gasp. Like it was animated, where the sun and water met, they made this other, this sacred precious third made out of them together. Just like all great soul mates, that thing, their own third that is her and her or her and him or whatever combo of two together--and the witnessing of the creation of sacred other, the Third. Which is Their's. Of them but not them. Holier than as result of the combination. Startling in its truth.
I have felt and swam and floated inside that presence, its come up and cradled me a million times so it was like for the first time ever truly coming home. To see it. Holy Sacred Third, divine created combo of Sea and Sun. To have it react to and with me. I am not being hyperbolic here or a creative writer. This really happened and I am still awe-struck, in bliss.
It was cold tonight but I stayed out for a half hour or more. I changed on the beach and laid a long time on my towel, watching the sun go down and stunned and still in stoke-awe. I thought I'd cry. Then dude with the blonde ponytail, the one the Coachella boys would call an old loc, he showed up and went out mask and hand boards but he took his piece. To breathe.
And we've never met but always acknowledge each other since we often beach at the same space. But tonight he came right to me when he got out, clearly enchanted too, said Can you even believe it out there eyes clear and wide and green-blue sparkling same as the sea. And I had someone to share it with then, my slack jaw glee, my joy at the livingness unseen now seen. Danny the ol loc who's been in the same spot above Taco Loco for 30 years. Just livin and jammin on the magic out there. We marveled over the sunset so clear you could see San Clemente Island to the left of Catalina.
I drove in circles when it was done confused by the foot traffic and bc I was thinking I'd raised Atlantis with the setting sun. Now I am being creative. The fact is though I had to park and made my way through my little town on its sparkle strung air by foot, greeting other ol locs and finally making my way to St. Anne's. It was $5 enchilada night at Feast. I had a lot to celebrate.
Like the fact that tomorrow I will get to do it again.
Amen. Amen, amen.
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