It’s greater than me.
Sometimes by accident when I am swimming water makes it’s way down my throat, and I love it.
There is a right amount, a small taste, just a little, and it feels like the ocean is inside of me, entered me – we are one, floating, swimming, being.
Too much salt water in my mouth and a fear rises, anxiety kicks in… I could drown. I could be out of control, I could, I could, I could get back to safer waters or get out and be safe on the land.
This anxiety is never far, a balance between surrender and panic, the ocean and art continually revealing to me my vulnerabilities and need for control.
How beautiful it must feel the moment before the final act of drowning, the moment I stop resisting, stop fearing and fighting, simple release, thy will be done, surrendering to the unknown beyond my comprehension.
What is the word for that place? I am not drowning, that would imply movement, resistance, hope for safety. I am not drowning, I have gone beyond my vulnerabilities, I can no longer control. After all hope has vanished and I am tired from my own resistance and fear, what is that moment called?
That’s where art lives, that’s where I want to live, in the moment before drowning, when I know the inevitable is greater than me.
