Dive

Do you remember that chap, Hercule Poirot? No? Known to be quite charming with his impeccable manners, dressing, the accent and that egg-shaped head. And of course, his meticulous moustache. But that’s alright, you didn’t miss much. An absolutely intolerable chap, really. Eccentric, egocentric and a bit too prim and proper. If you ask me, go to Sherlock Holmes any day. Now, there’s my kind of guy.

But still, I have to admit, Poirot was onto something. He kept saying that answers always lie in “the little grey cells”. I agree. I am a thinking man. I like to sit down and think about anything and everything; past, present and future. I need to first anticipate a situation and then consider all the possibilities and then just sit back and……think. It doesn’t matter if I can’t come up with a solution. The fact that I have lived it in my head before it occurs outside of it, acts as something of a meta-experience, if I may coin such a word. An experience of an experience itself. 

And so I always appear to be lost in thought. Day dreaming about seemingly irrelevant things. But of course, I am still figuring this out. Surely I haven’t around long enough to be an expert. In fact, most of the time, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where I began and I don’t know where to go from there. Every possibility leads to many possibilities and so on and so forth. Unfortunately, in the labyrinth of my mind, I am no Theseus and there is no Ariadne to help me manoeuvre my way in and out. But, the Minotaur lurks, at every wrong turn, at every evil twist of imagination.

The mind is razor sharp. Mine and yours. Only, some know it and others don’t. It is only as sharp as it thinks it is and works fastest when under pressure. Sadly, it must be taught the concept of direction and must be trained to be a vector. But the mind is not the kind of thing you can tempt with a carrot or threaten with a whip. Before you train the mind to watch where it is going, you have to train yourself to watch it. If you are able to follow your mind, you will be able to persuade it to follow you.

That is why I come here, three miles out into sea in the middle of the night, wrapped tightly in a dense fog. I see no moon and I see no sea but there is a circular patch of water marking my visibility. Only here and now, do I not mind losing my individuality. As the fog and the cold water slowly seep into me, I feel that we have interchanged states of matter. They bite, and I feel. I do not act and I do not react. I only feel, and they only bite. It is time; I remove my shirt and let them in. After a while, when they have stopped biting and we have reached our understanding, I prepare myself to think. There is nowhere else I’d rather be, there’s nothing else I’d rather do. I need to think. I need to watch myself think. As my thoughts change and dart about, they morph seamlessly and without effort. I try to catch them, I want to hold them, I need them to obey.

I breathe deeply and let myself go under gently. The water sizzles on my skin for a brief moment. Under the water, I am now awake. I can see the fog above holding on to my dream. And I can see me, waiting to be…..me. It has started.

I look down and proceed. The trick is to get as far down as your breath would allow; reserving nothing for the journey back. With every movement in descent, I go years behind. With every thrust, I explore countless worlds and timelines. As the air is sucked out of me, my mind starts to fill the emptiness with a flood of memories. So many things, all at once, I cannot feel their joy and I cannot feel their sorrow. I only watch. A mute spectator as the story unfolds.

My mind races, gathering speed with every passing moment. I struggle to keep up as ideas shoot forth in every direction, I do not know which one to grab on to. I explore as many as I can, simultaneously. The darkest corners of my mind are lit; they expose their most evil intentions. I should be scared, but I cannot bring myself to be. They are mine, after all. I see the good, I see the weird and I see a streak of the freak that lives in us all. My lungs have burst. Oh, the soothing pain. 

I begin to return and look around but sadly, there is no blood. My lungs have burst in vain. There are too many horses in my mind and they are too wild. I do not believe that the horrors of my mind do not identify me. You cannot perceive what is outside of your imagination and you can only imagine what you are capable of, a window into our soul. What we imagine may not be a part of us, but it lies in our imagination only because, it has the capability to become a part of us. Similarly, what is outside of our imagination, we may never be able to accept or identify with; but that does not mean that they do not exist.

I do not feel the need to breathe anymore. There is no pain, no burning sensation. There is no sea, no cold, no heat. There is just me and my mind. But as I slowly float to the surface, I can feel the pain returning. All at once, all the pain. I burn until I am forced to breathe in as much air as can be. I climb on to the boat and look down to say goodbye. I am back in this dream now but I will come back soon. Reality is far more alluring and I need to think, I need to watch myself think.

I start rowing back to the shore. Slowly, steadily. Every time I get back from these glimpses of reality, every time I dive out of this dream, I appreciate the silence. The glimpse of freedom. I can have it any time I want. Not for long, Not always. But, I can have it any time I want.

I have my peace.