78

the bottom of the ocean.

when “these things happen” and we are knocked off the side of the boat, we have three choices: [1] we can let ourselves drown. [2] we can make our way back to the surface, as soon as the initial shock gives way to the realization that we cannot let ourselves sink any further down. or [3] we can decide that having already fallen so far deep, why not make our way to the bottom of the ocean and find out what’s down there? visit all the coral, glow-in-the-dark lifeforms, buried treasure and shipwrecked remains from centuries past.

what’s hidden in the watery depths is so strange and mysterious that it belongs to whomever claims it. what they don’t tell you is that it’s actually your ocean, and if you don’t claim it, it will claim you. now, there’s always more sun on the surface. at the bottom of the ocean, you have to make your own light. you have to bring your own light. you have to illuminate your own depths and free yourself from the dark, from your own unconscious logic, and make it conscious. it’s not just to explore; the bottom of the ocean is not a curiosity. it’s where all of life comes from. it’s a womb as much as it is a tomb. so do you want to be buried there or do you want to find out, first, where you (and all of this) even came from?

we get knocked overboard every whenever, as an invitation. it’s not the siren’s call. your own depths will beckon without even a sound. this can eventually become the easiest or the hardest thing for you to ignore. make the journey today, make the journey tomorrow; they don’t care when you do it. but how many times do you want to fall off a boat?