Friday, February 28, 2014

I read somewhere that grief comes in waves. One that washes over you and then lets you be for a while soaking up the sun being dry and warm and feeling that the wet and cold feeling has passed until ... the next big wave and the cold wet splash. Wetting you through, chilling you all the very more to the bone. The goosebumps back on. The vulnerability, the shiver and the cold.

Ofcourse you can walk away from the shore and you do want to but then you also do want to see the sea and sand castles and the beach and all that it means for you and meant for you or could have or should have meant for you.

It may be something the only thing sometimes that makes you feel alive. The fact that you feel chilled and cold to the bone. The warmth that follows. The feeling that all is not a monotone, even if what you hear is not music atleast it is expression.

It is also safe to be sitting by the shore. You are at the receiving end of it, inactive in the way that leaves you open to feeling, just pure feeling. Something that day to day life does not let you be. You are just busy navigating one thing and another. Thinking through the alleys and the turns and the puddles.


No comments:

Post a Comment