The Sea, Always Enough

 

The sea is beautiful, whether calm or lightly stirred by waves, because whenever you’re in it, it feels like enough. Whether for a quick dip or for hours in the middle of a day of coming and going, you emerge sun-drained yet certain of it—certain it will always be there to cool and refresh you.

And in the evening, the sea turns into a witchy realm, where colours and reflections merge and dissolve, deepening the silence under the gaze of the moon. 

The sea, along the beaches, is both communist and anarchist. It gives to everyone and takes nothing from anyone. It invites you in, but you enter only when you choose. 

It belongs to everyone, at least until they sell that too. 

It is also a place where you can be alone, or among anonymous multitudes whose voices merge into a collective hum that recedes as you drift further away. Yet it can also be a place of encounter and breezy conversation, where lightness and depth meet. 

The sea has a smell, a sound, and a touch that reach you everywhere—body and soul, material and spiritual at once.  

And though it moves to its own rhythm, in an eternal dance with the wind, within it you find silence. Because there, it is easy to stop wanting more. 

Whether you are in it for a moment or for a long while, it is always enough—so much so that even when stormy, you can feel the urge to dissolve into it completely, to lose yourself in its raw force. 

But on calm days it is gentle with the soul. At least while you are beside it or within it. Even when you're far from it, you know it's still there—ready to welcome you inside it, always.

Two-liners

1. The good moments in life are light, pleasant, a bit random,  and come without any need to process them.  They become memories which evoke gentle melancholy. 

4. History is both random and subject to over-determinations dictated by objective material realities.  So a random subjective  act  can only alter history at a particular and unique juncture, or, to put it more mystically, when the stars (conflicting over-determinations) align or collide.  

7. “If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution” (even if I am a terrible dancer). The self-appointed prophets of wrath, fire, and brimstone—the Savonarolas of the world—are always counter-revolutionary, no matter how fiercely they denounce corruption.

10: In-yun: Encounters can feel already known from countless past lives, that fleeting déjà vu at first meeting,  but it is the later choices that give those crossings their meaning.  Kismet: Encounters are serendipity with intention, unlikely paths briefly intersecting as if inevitable, asking us to surrender to life’s absurd choreography.

11. The pessimism of the intellect against the optimism of the will: an eternal struggle between the realm of the possible, burdened by its contradictions, and utopia, haunted by its fanatics.

15.  People exist independently in the minds of others. The way we are lived and  experienced in other people’s minds defines who we are—Unsettling but awesome.

18.  Sometimes all you have to do is to change perspective. Things then start floating in the gentle lightness of being.