13th
There have been three instances in my life where I’ve nearly drowned.
One of them, was when I was in high school. We were doing synchronized swimming and we had to do our individual routines in front of the class. I was in the pool and in the middle of my routine I suddenly got a cramp in my right calf. My leg felt incredibly heavy, like it was no longer part of me and was now just some dark invisible hand dragging me down into the water.
I remember as I sank I tried to pull and push myself out of the water so I could wave for help. The unseen hand tightened. As I broke the surface of the water, I could see my fellow classmates… my teacher… all looking silently at me, before I sank down again. My arms flailed and the water bubbled white around me. I was swallowing water. Why wasn’t anyone coming to get me?
I didn’t scream.
I think the whole time, I was in the water, I thought my struggle would be enough for someone to come and grab me.
I remember the strong arm that came around my waist which pulled me back to the side. I had never felt so reassured. That everything was going to be okay. And that for some reason I had one more day.
“One more day.”
Those words were tattooed on his arm. We had brunch next to the guys from Spankrock. I saw the tattoo curling around like an arm band and wondered if “One more day” was meant to be a reminder. A good thing?
Things have started to come unstuck and are unravelling. The jar is brimming full. It had been awhile since we talked. He told me that I have this glass jar inside which I need to find a way to get rid of. Even though logic says to get rid of the body, it was not an option, he said.
But she gives voice and breathes life into those that should be left unsaid, unspoken. Those things are for the mind and soul to wrestle with in silence. Once spoken, they take on shape and become real, human… and final. Another tap, another nail.
“Numbers don’t lie.”
Once you know who you are or come in touch with it, all it takes is a glimpse… how could you do or be anything else? It isn’t a hobby, it isn’t something you can do or be on sundays. You can’t pretend and assume roles, banners or titles. It you pretend and ignore, it eats you up. The one thing that was true or could be a truth in life disappears.
And even now as I write, that taste of what could be has never left my mind. I’ve felt it and it haunts me, and it is just a dream, but it is my own.
Even though the body can not leave the stage, the other option is for the mind to depart or find a way out.