Something remarkable happened last night.
For the last year and a half, whether it was on an air mattress, on the Murphy bed in the Paris apartment I rented, on a guest bed, or in the comfort of my own bed, I have always relegated myself to one side. Usually the right hand side. In the morning I would wake and the left side of the bed would be totally undisturbed, unless my cat had crept in, and decided to snooze there beside me.
This morning, I woke up, and I was sprawled everywhere. Pillows had been tossed aside, covers twisted and bunched all around me, and myself stretched across the entire mattress. I felt deeply, and incredibly well rested.
Interesting things are happening to the landscape of my universe right now. There are no clear outcomes, but I feel that whatever might transpire, I will be just fine. I remember a time, not long ago at all, when so much of my sense of well being relied on external influences. The actions of the people in my life, the circumstances surrounding work, or my creative world, my family – all of these things had an incredibly strong effect on my state of mind. I would be lying if I said they were now totally unimportant, but their power over me has waned considerably.
I feel sometimes like a still, glittering ocean. There are depths yet unexplored because mankind does not yet have the ability to move into these uncharted places. There are tempests, and typhoons laying dormant because the winds of passion are blowing in another direction. There are flotsam and jetsam that will drift across the surface from time to time, reminding me of wreckage of the past. There is life coursing just below the surface, fed and nurtured, and riotous in colour.
Stand with your toes digging into the cool, wet sand as the water laps gently at your feet. The steady ebb and flow seems compelling, the placid water rich and cool.
The ocean will remain the ocean, whether or not you choose to swim.